“Receipt. That’s all. Reads like this: ‘Received of Frank Merriwell the sum of twenty-five dollars, in consideration of which I agree to his proposal.’ That’s simple.”
“It looks loike a thrap.”
“No trap.”
“Phwat av ye wur to show thot recate against me?”
“You could swear that the proposal was any old thing. If I swore it was something else, your word is as good as mine. As you are an officer, it should be a little better. This is a mere formality—a matter of business. I always take a receipt when I pay out money.”
“It’s an Oirishman ye ought to be, me b’y,” declared O’Farrel, admiringly. “It’s a slick tongue ye have in th’ head av yez.”
Then he signed the receipt, and Frank left the hospital, feeling well satisfied with the result of his visit.
“I believe Hodge is safe now,” he thought.
He was right. Somebody “blowed” on Hodge, and Bart was taken before O’Farrel. The injured policeman looked him over, and then positively stated that Hodge was not the one who slammed him against the post. He added that he did not remember Bart at all.
Hodge was released.