now as they saw him doing a gleeful caper before their cells, with a grin of triumphant satisfaction written wide across his face, they looked at him with the astounded recognition of men who see a face which they had known years before, but have forgotten—in the lapse of time and memory.
“Where?—” Robert began hoarsely and accusingly, in a tone of astounded stupefaction. “Where have you been all this time?”
“Out front!” said Kitchin exultantly. “Sitting in your car!”
“Out front!” cried Robert in a bewildered and resentful tone. “Didn’t they lock you up, too?”
“Hell, no!” cried Kitchin, fairly dancing about with gleeful satisfaction. “They never touched me! And I’d had as much to drink as any of you. I’ve been sittin’out front all afternoon reading the paper! I guess they thought I was the only sober one of the crowd,” he said modestly. And this apparently was the reason for his astonishing freedom—this and another, more mercenary reason, which will presently be apparent.
“Why, what do they mean by keeping us locked up back here while you’re out front there reading the paper? Darnedest thing I ever heard of!” Robert barked. “Kitchin!” he now said angrily. “You go out there and tell them we want out of here!”
“I told’em! I told’em!” Kitchin said virtuously. “That’s what I’ve been telling them all afternoon.”
“Well, what do they say?” Robert demanded impatiently.
“Boys,” said Kitchin now, shaking his head regretfully, but unable to conceal his own elation and sense of triumph, “I’ve got news for you—and I’m afraid it’s not going to be good news, either. How much money you got?”
“Money!” Robert cried, in an astounded tone, as if the uses of this vile commodity had never occurred to him. “What’s money got to do with it? We want out of here!”
“I know you do,” said Kitchin coolly, “but you’re not going to get out unless you’ve got money enough to pay your fine.”
“Fine?” Robert repeated stupidly.
“Well, that’s what they call it, anyway. Fine or graft, or whatever the hell it is, you’ve got to pay it if you want to be let out.”
“How much is it?” said Robert. “How much do they want?”
“Boys,” said Kitchin, slowly and solemnly, “have you got seventy-three dollars?”
