"What t' 'ell?" said he, looking about him wildly. "Who are youse, an' wha's the row?" 

 As the quickest way to sober the man, Nick showed his shield. It acted like a cold shower-bath. 

 "Say, what was it I done?" gasped Harrigan. "S' help me, I dunno nothing about it. I had a load on me last night, an' I ain't responsible." 

 Patsy laughed. 

 "There's no charge against you," said Nick; "I only want to ask you a few questions." 

 Harrigan sank back on the pillow with a gasp of relief. 

 "Gimme that water-pitcher," he said; "me t'roat's full o' cobwebs." 

 He drank about a quart of water, and then declared himself ready for a cross-examination. Nick sized him up for a decent sort of fellow; and saw no reason to doubt that he was telling the truth when he answered the questions that were put to him. 

 It appeared that he had been on Seventh avenue, near the French restaurant, from a little after six to about half-past seven on the previous evening. 

 At the latter hour a man had engaged his cab. He had taken it to the side door of the restaurant, and the waiter had got in. The man who hired the cab was already inside. 

 He had driven them somewhere on Fifty-seventh street, or it might be Fifty-eighth. He couldn't remember exactly. 

 The two men got out together. He didn't know what had become of them. 

 His fare was paid all right. Then he had a couple more drinks, and the next thing he knew he was at the stable where he had hired the cab. 

 Of course he didn't confess this in so many words, but Nick understood the facts well enough. 

 That was absolutely all that Harrigan knew about the case. 

 "Would you recognize the man who hired your cab if you saw him again?" asked Nick. 

 "Oh, sure," said Harrigan. "I wasn't so very full. I had me wits about me. Say, you ain't going to do me dirt an' git me license taken away? I was all right. I didn't do any harm." 

 Nick assured Harrigan that if he acted right in this case his license would be safe, 

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