two were ensconced in the privacy of the judicial limousine, "I would have known better how to guide myself in this unfortunate affair. As it is, I can only assure you of my profound regret that I was not better advised. And I trust sincerely that you will not fail to tell Mr. Digby that I acted immediately on receipt of his telegram."
"Rest easy, I won't forget," Barcus promised him enigmatically, at pains to cover the truth that Digby was nothing more to him than the name of Alan Law's man of business.
"This is what Mr. Digby says," the judge replied, laboriously deciphering the message by the light of a match: "'Please see to immediate release of one Thomas Barcus probably in jail in your jurisdiction for rioting on waterfront this morning. Pay his fine and instruct him to report to me in New York at earliest feasible hour. Give him all the money he wants and look to me for remuneration'"
The private comment of Barcus to this was: "I've suspected that this was a fairy-tale all along. Now I know it is!"
Not until a sound night's sleep had topped off the beginning of his rest in jail did Barcus come down to earth. He demonstrated his return to common sense by making a round breakfast in Grand Central Station before looking up the residence of Digby in the telephone directory, reasoning that, if he was to
