“At the door of the apartment I met as fine looking a youngster as I ever laid eyes on, brown as a berry, with a quick, straight look about the eyes that would have done you good to see.  No booze or dope in that face, chief.  He said—­”

“How tall was he?” asked the chief.

“About my height.  Know him?”

“Maybe.  What name did he give?”

“Didn’t give a name.  ‘I’ve come to surprise Jerry,’ he says to me.

“‘Anybody would surprise Jerry at this hour of the morning,’” says I.

“‘It’s too early, I take it?’ says he.

“‘About five hours,’ says I.

“‘Then this is going to be one of the exceptions,’ says he.

“‘If you knew Jerry better you wouldn’t force yourself on him,’ says I.

“‘Son,’ says this fresh kid—­”

“Is this the way you talk to Smith?” broke in Mark.

“No, I can polish up my lingo with the best of ’em.  But this brown-faced youngster was a card.  Son,’ he says to me, ’I’ll do my own explaining.  Just lead me to his dugout.’

“I couldn’t help laughing.  ‘You’ll get a hot reception,’ says I.

“‘I come from a hot country,’ says he, ’and I got no doubt that Jerry will try to make me at home,’ and he grinned with a devil in each eye.

“‘Come in, then,’ says I, and in he steps.  ‘And mind your fists,’ says I, ’if you wake him up sudden.  He fights sometimes because he has to, but mostly because it’s a pleasure to him.’

“‘Sure,’ says he.  ’That’s the way I like to have ’em come.’”

“And he went in?” demanded John Mark.

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Northup anxiously.

“Nothing.  Go ahead.”

“Well, in he went to Jerry’s room.  I listened at the door.  I heard him call Jerry, and then Jerry groaned like he was half dead.

“‘I don’t know you,’ says Jerry.

“‘You will before I’m through with you,’ says the other.

“‘Who the devil are you?’ asks Jerry.

“‘Doone is my name,’ says he.

“‘Then go to the devil till one o’clock,’ says Jerry.  ’And come back then if you want to.  Here’s my time for a beauty sleep.’

“‘If it’s that time,’ says Doone, ’you’ll have to go ugly today.  I’m here to talk.’

“I heard Jerry sit up in bed.

“‘Now what the devil’s the meaning of this?’ he asked.

“‘Are you awake?’ says Doone.

“‘Yes, but be hung to you!’ says Jerry.

“Don’t be hanging me,’ says Doone.  ’You just mark this day down in red—­it’s a lucky one for you, son.’

“‘An’ how d’you mean that?’ says Jerry, and I could hear by his voice that he was choking, he was that crazy mad.

“‘Because it’s the day you met me,’ says Doone; ’that’s why it’s a lucky one for you.’

“‘Listen to me,’ says Jerry, ’of all the nervy, cold-blooded fakers that ever stepped you’re the nerviest.’

“‘Thanks,’ says Doone.  ‘I think I am doing pretty well.’