know; the same man who arrested you when you lit out two years ago. Bab, you recollect."
"Never heard your name before, and never saw you, till you bounced me back there in the hall," said Roy, who told himself that he was learning something every minute."
"Oh, come now," replied the detective, in an injured tone. "Everybody knows Bab."
"Everybody except me, perhaps. But you never arrested me for the simple reason that I never ran away from home. It's much too pleasant a place for me to leave voluntarily, I can tell you. It is plain enough to me that you have mistaken me for somebody else."
"But there's Willis," said the detective; and if Roy could have seen his face distinctly he would have had the satisfaction of knowing that he had aroused a train of disagreeable thoughts in that official's mind.
"Who's Willis?" asked Roy, again.
"Your uncle's superintendent; the man on top with the driver. He has known you all your life, and he says you are Rowe Shelly."
"Well, I am not. I am Roy Sheldon, and
