“You don’t want him pinched?” asked the policeman.

“Of course not,” replied Jimmy.  “Why should he be pinched?”

The officer turned roughly upon the stranger, shook him viciously a few times, and then gave him a mighty shove which all but sent him sprawling into the gutter.

“G’wan wid yez,” he yelled after him, “and if I see ye on this beat again I’ll run yez in.  An’ you”—­he turned upon Jimmy—­“ye’d betther be on your way—­and not be afther makin’ up with ivery dip ye meet.”

“Thanks,” said Jimmy.  “Have a cigar.”

After the officer had helped himself and condescended to relax his stern features into the semblance of a smile the young man bid him good night and resumed his way toward the hotel.

“Pretty early to go to bed,” he thought as he reached for his watch to note the time, running his fingers into an empty pocket.  Gingerly he felt in another pocket, where he knew his watch couldn’t possibly be, nor was.  Carefully Jimmy examined each pocket of his coat and trousers, a slow and broad grin illumining his face.

“What do you know about that?” he mused.  “And I thought I was a wise guy.”

A few minutes after Jimmy reached his room the office called him on the telephone to tell him that a man had called to see him.

“Send him up,” said Jimmy, wondering who it might be, since he was sure that no one knew of his presence in the city.  He tried to connect the call in some way with his advertisement, but inasmuch as that had been inserted blind he felt that there could be no possible connection between that and his caller.

A few minutes later there was a knock on his door, and in response to his summons to enter the door opened, and there stood before him the young man of his recent encounter upon the street.  The latter entered softly, closing the door behind him.  His feet made no sound upon the carpet, and no sound came from the door as he closed it, nor any slightest click from the latch.  His utter silence and the stealth of his movements were so pronounced as to attract immediate attention.  He did not speak until he had reached the center of the room and halted on the opposite side of the table at which Jimmy was standing; and then a very slow smile moved his lips, though the expression of his eyes remained unchanged.

“Miss anything?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Jimmy.

“Here it is,” said the visitor, laying the other’s watch upon the table.

“Why this spasm of virtue?” asked Jimmy.

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied the other.  “I guess it’s because you’re a white guy.  O’Donnell has been trying to get something on me for the last year.  He’s got it in for me—­I wouldn’t cough every time the big stiff seen me.”

“Sit down,” said Jimmy.

“Naw,” said the other; “I gotta be goin’.”

“Come,” insisted the host; “sit down for a few minutes at least.  I was just wishing that I had someone to talk to.”