"Blamed if I know, exactly. He was so worked up—with his eyes stickin' out, and his jaw shakin', and the girl hangin' on to his arm—but it was something about kidnappin', and shootin' a man, and there bein' another prisoner to rescue...."
He stopped, for there was frank incredulity in the three pairs of eyes fastened upon him.
"He was stringin' you," said one of the detectives, at last.
"Or else he had a jag," said another.
"Dope, more likely," suggested the third. "Look here, Hennessey, don't you ever git us up here again with no such cock-and-bull story! Come on, boys!"
They left Hennessey rubbing his head helplessly and staring at the houses, one after another. He wasn't at all convinced that the strange youth had been "stringing" him—his excitement had too evidently been genuine; but if he was on the square, why had he run away?
"Oh, hell!" said Hennessey, finally, and returned to his post at the corner.
And it was about that time that the 'phone at the German consulate rang, and a pleasant voice advised that a physician be sent at once to the house just off Ninth Avenue, as his services were badly needed there.