“It’s big worruds ye are afther usin’ now,” he said, hazily. “Oi’m worse mixed thin Oi wur before.”
“I am trying to make it plain that it is for your interest not to push this matter. Doctor says you are not much hurt. It was a boy who hurt you. You are an officer, and you do not want it known that a boy without a whisker on his face did you up. Some folks might think you were no good. The ladies who have walked blocks out of their way to have you assist them across the street would turn their backs on you. The citizens who have felt perfectly safe while passing along your beat at night would feel safe no longer. Burglars and footpads who have trembled at the mention of your name would sneer at you. You would fall into deep disgrace. It is more than likely that you would be fired from the force as inefficient.”
O’Farrel blinked and gasped again.
“Begobs! Oi niver thought av thot,” he muttered.
“You can see it plainly enough now. You must state that the fellow who slammed you against the post was a giant—six feet four. Say he caught you from behind. Say another fellow hit you with a baseball bat. Say you are satisfied you were mistaken in thinking them students. Say they must have been hoodlums of the town.”
“An’ pwhat do Oi get fer thot?”
“This!”
Again Frank flourished the money before Patsy O’Farrel’s greedy eyes.
“You get this now,” declared Frank. “You get as much more next week. You get another lot the next week, if the doctor says you are not fit to go back to duty.”
“Begorra! it’s a timptation.”