strong tide. He opened his trunk and rammed the chamois-bag into the
toe of one of his patent-leather boots. In the daytime he would wear
it about his neck, but each night back into the shoe it must go. He
flung himself on the bunk, not to sleep, but to think and wonder.

Meantime there was great excitement in the dive. The waiter was
rocking his body, wailing and holding his jaw. His companion was
sitting on the floor. In the wine-room two policemen and a thick-set,
black-mustached man in a derby hat were asking questions.

"Robbed!" moaned Jameson.

The man in the derby hat shook him roughly. "Robbed o' what, y' soak?"

"Robbed!"

"Mike," said the man in the derby, "put th' darbies on th' Sneak.
We'll get something for our trouble, anyhow. An' tell that waiter t'
put th' brakes on his yawp. Bring him in here. Now, you, what's
happened?"

"Why, the gink in uniform comes in . . ."

The bartender interrupted. "A gink dressed like a ship-steward comes
in an' orders ale. Drinks five glasses. Goes out int' th' wine-room
'cross th' hall an' orders a bottle o' gin. An' next I hears Johnny
howlin' murder. Frame-up, Mr. Haggerty. Nothin' t' do with it, hones'
t' Gawd! Th' boss ain't here."

Jameson lurched toward the bartender. "Young lookin'? Red cheeks?