After a while Soapy began to shout and to sing, and he danced and howled like a drunken man. A policeman stood near, twirling his club. But the officer turned his back to Soapy and said to a citizen, "It is one of the college boys. They are celebrating a victory. He is noisy, but he will do no harm. We have orders to let them be." Sadly, Soapy stopped his useless noise. Would no policeman ever lay a hand on him? The Island seemed an impossible dream. He buttoned his thin coat against the cold wind. In a cigar store he saw a well-dressed man lighting a cigar. The man had set his silk umbrella by the door as he came in. Soapy stepped inside, took the umbrella, and went out slowly. The man followed at once. "My umbrella," he said. "Oh, is it?" said Soapy. "Then why don't you call a policeman? I took it. Call a cop!" The umbrella man slowed his steps. Soapy did the same, feeling that luck would again run against him. A policeman watched the two with curiosity. "Of course," said the umbrella man, "if it is your umbrella, I hope you will excuse me. I picked it up this morning in a restaurant. If you know it for yours, then I am sorry." "Of course it is mine," said Soapy angrily. The former owner went away. Soapy threw the umbrella into a dark corner. He walked on. At last he reached a quiet corner where an old church stood. Through one window a soft light shone, where the organist was practising for Sunday. A sweet anthem floated out and held Soapy fast against the iron fence. The moon was above, calm and bright, and few people passed. For a moment the scene moved his soul to a wonderful change. The old church and the anthem brought back his mother, his old friends, his pure thoughts, his clean collars. And he saw with horror the deep pit into which he had fallen. He would pull himself out of the mire. He would be a man again. There was still time; he was young. Tomorrow he would find honest work. He would be somebody in the world. He would — Soapy felt a hand on his arm. He looked quickly around into the broad face of a policeman. "What are you doing here?" asked the officer. "Nothing," said Soapy. "Then come along," said the policeman. The next morning the judge in the police court spoke briefly. "Three months on the Island," he said.