The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VII | Page 3

to the station. The superintendent
was mad and rags me good, for there never was a job of that kind done
in the house. But the other man was the same looking as the real, so
how was I to know?"
Duane started off with Tommy, and winked to the reporters to follow.
At the Quadrangle, a bachelor apartment house noted for its high rents
and exclusiveness, Duane was met at the entrance by the superintendent,
who told the officer that there was nothing in the story, after all. It was
a lark of a friend of his, Mr. Carrington had said, and was annoyed that

news of the affair had been sent to the police. The superintendent was
glad that Tommy had not reached the station house. Duane looked
inquiringly at the superintendent, who gravely winked.
"Good night," said Duane, holding out his hand. "Good night," replied
the other, taking the hand. "You won't report this at the station?" "No,"
said Duane, who then put his hand in his pocket and returned to the
reporters. He told them what the superintendent had said.
"What do you make out of it?" asked Fetner.
"Nothing," the officer replied. "If I tried to make out the cases we are
asked not to investigate, I'd have mighty little time to work on the cases
we are wanted in. If Mr. Carrington says he hasn't been robbed, it isn't
our business to prove that he has been. You won't print anything about
this?"
Fetner said he would not. To have done so after that promise would
have closed a fruitful source of Tenderloin stories. The reporters left
the officer at Broadway and resumed their interrupted walk to supper.
"Lots of funny things happen in the Tenderloin," Fetner remarked, in
the manner of one dismissing a subject.
"But," exclaimed Holt, quite as excited as Tommy had been, "I know
Carrington."
"So does every one," answered Fetner, "by name and reputation. He's
just a swell--swell enough to be noted. Isn't that all?"
"He was a couple of classes ahead of me at college," continued Holt. "I
didn't know him there--one doesn't know half of one's own class--but
his family and mine are old friends, and without troubling himself to
know me, more than to nod, he sometimes sent me word to use his
horses when he was away. Before I left college and went to work on a
Boston paper, Carrington started on a trip around the world. My people
heard of him through his people at times, and learned that he was doing
a number of crazy things, among them getting lost in all sorts of
No-man's-lands. His people were usually asking the State Department

to locate him, through the diplomatic and consular services."
"Then this is one of his eccentricities," commented Fetner.
"How can you treat it like that?" exclaimed Holt. "I think it is a
fascinating mystery, and I'm going to solve it."
"Not for publication," warned Fetner.
"For my own satisfaction," declared Holt, with great earnestness.
* * * * *
When the superintendent of the Quadrangle had shaken hands with the
officer he turned to Tommy and said: "You go up to Mr. Carrington.
He wants to see you."
"Tommy," said Mr. Carrington, "I think this is a joke on you."
This view of the event was such a relief to Tommy that he grinned
broadly.
"It is certainly a joke on you. Now, Thomas, did my friend make
himself up to look so much like me that you could not have told the
difference, even if you were not distracted by the discomfiture of the
New York nine this season?"
"I can't say how much he looked like you, and how much he didn't. I
naturally thought he was you--that's all."
"Not all, Thomas: nothing is all. He asked in an easy, nice voice for a
coat, so you thought he was somebody who had a coat here. How did
you know whose coat he preferred?"
"Because I thought he was you."
"If I had not been the last tenant to leave the house before that, would
you have thought so? If Mr. Hopkins had just left, and that man had
come in and asked for 'My coat,' wouldn't you have got Mr. Hopkins'

coat?"
"Mr. Hopkins did go out after you," Tommy admitted, reluctantly.
"Oh, he did, eh? Well, Hopkins is always going out. I never knew such
a regular out-and-outer as Hopkins. He should reform. It's a joke on
you, Thomas, and if I were you I wouldn't say anything about it."
"I ain't going to say anything," declared Tommy. "If I don't lose my job
for it, I'll be lucky."
"I'll see that you do not lose your job. What police did you see?"
"Only a plain-clothes man I know,