"Drink! He never drinks."
"Then 'e must 'ave fallen off the water-wagon into a barrel of alcohol and opened 'is mouth too wide. Also 'e's got a fever."
Graham turned on the girl. "How did he get here?"
"In a cab. You don't s'pose I carried 'im, d'you?"
"Where'd you find him?"
"I didn't find 'im. Some one gave 'im to me as a present—a nice present, I must say."
"Don't lie to me!" cried Graham. "And don't be impudent."
"Impudent!" cried Nellie Pope, shrilly. "Here, you'd better watch what you're saying. I don't stand any cheek, I don't, neither from you nor anybody else, and I'm not in the habit of lying. I tell you I was made a present of 'im. I was told to take 'im 'ome by a young fellow on Forty-eighth Street, who 'ad called up a cab."
"Forty-eighth Street,—are you sure?"
"Well, if I don't know the streets, who does? The young fellow was a gent. He didn't talk, he gave orders. He was tall and slight and he 'ad kinky hair. Quite a nut. English, he was, any one could tell that."