Poinsette was glad of it. He had grown desperate and wanted the thing to end. Bad as it was, it would be better to face his landlady than be locked up in a burglar's cell. Poinsette was resigned, therefore, when a second-story window lifted and a night-capped head was made to overhang the sill and blot its silhouette against the star-lit sky.
"Be you the landlady?" asked the policeman.
"Yes, I am!" quoth the night-cap in a snappy, snarly way. "What do you want?" This with added sourness.
"This party says his name is Poinsette and that he rooms here," replied the officer.
"No such thing!" retorted the night-cap. "No such man rooms here. Don't even know the name!"
Then the window came down with a grievous bang. It was as if it descended on Poinsette's heart.
"You're a crook!" said the policeman, "and now you come with me."
Poinsette essayed to explain that the night-cap was not his landlady; that he had made a mistake in the house. The policeman laughed in hoarse scorn at this.
"D'ye think I'm goin' all along the row, yankin' door-bells out by the roots on such a stiff as you're givin' me?"
That was the reply of the policeman to Poinsette's pleadings to try next door.
Poinsette was led sadly off, with the grip of the law on his collar. At the station he was searched and booked and bolted in. On the hard plank, which made the sole furnishings of his narrow cell, Poinsette threw himself down; not to sleep, but to give himself to bitter consideration of his fate.
As Poinsette sat there waiting for the sun to rise and friends to come to his rescue, the station clock struck five. It rang dismally in the cell of Poinsette.
At Cape May, clocks of correct habits were also telling the hour of five. Mrs. P. was not yet asleep. The vigorous aroma of the ocean swept the room. The half-morning was beautiful; Mrs. P., loosely garbed, sat in an easy-chair at the window and enjoyed it.
"I wonder what Poinsette's been doing," said Mrs. P. to herself; and there was a colour of jealousy in the tone. Then Mrs. P. snorted as in contempt. "I'll warrant he's been having a good time," she continued. "This idea that married men when their wives are away for the summer have a dull time, never imposed on me."