"Jump on a car and bring Mr. Steadman's uniform and valise to —— East Twenty-seventh Street at once."
When he returned to the passage Steadman was beating feebly on the glass door from the inside. Terry grinned and shook his head, holding up two fingers. The tortured one threw himself in agony into a steamer chair, only to leap instantly to his feet with an inaudible yell of pain.
"Are you ready?" Terry inquired of his employer.
"Shure."
They threw open the door and each grabbed an arm of their victim, dragging him down the passage into the dressing room. Another door opened into a room in which was a large tank. Without ceremony the two Irishmen swung their glistening patient off the edge and into the water. Steadman shrieked, choked and splashed helplessly.
"Down wit' him!" cried McCullough, and they forced him beneath the surface.
"Ag'in!"
Down he went.
"Now up!" and they lifted him bodily up on to the floor once more, and yanked him streaming into the dressing room. Steadman's face was a bright red, but he walked to a corner, while the two Irishmen with two little towels gently blotted the water from his back, sides, and arms. His legs they left to take care of themselves.
"Ready there!" cried McCullough, giving Steadman a sharp blow that sent him staggering across the room.