He had pressed money upon the man, and very foolishly had explained everything but his name. This he clung to, for he had a vision of tall head-lines in the New York papers, and well knew no son of Merton Sargent could expect mercy that side the water. The guard, to Wilton's amazement, refused the money on the grounds that this was a matter for the Company to attend to. Wilton insisted on his incognito, and, therefore, found two policemen waiting for him at St. Botolph terminus. When he expressed a wish to buy a new hat and telegraph to his friends, both policemen with one voice warned him that whatever he said would be used as evidence against him; and this had impressed Wilton tremendously.
"They were so infernally polite," he said. "If they had clubbed me I wouldn't have cared; but it was, 'Step this way, sir,' and, 'Up those stairs, please, sir,' till they jailed me - jailed me like a common drunk, and I had to stay in a filthy little cubby-hole of a cell all night."
