“Signs of what?”
“Oh, the dinsity of the cratchur! Sure, I do be always lookin’ fer the little wan.”
“Why don’t you search the river?” suggested Sam significantly; “her mother says she is drowned.”
“Yis! Poor woman! And she belaives it, too, so she do. But says I to myself, says I, some blackguard thaif has sthole the little sunbeam of her heart, which do be nearly broken entirely, so it do!” and Smith turned his head away to hide the tears that came unbidden to his eyes.
“Do you think so?”
“I do.”
“Do you?”
“I do, by me faith, I do, and ave I could lay me hands on the wan who is raysponsible fer it, sure there’d be somethin’ doin’!”
Sam had slim faith in George Golda calling at the police station to claim the medal, but he believed it possible to locate him by diligent and discreet inquiry. With that idea he beckoned Smith into a lobby of an adjacent building, which at that early hour was untenanted, and produced the medal from his vest pocket. Handing it to Smith, he said guardedly, “I found it in the City Park this morning.”