“‘They were drunk, sir, a little intoxicated, sir,’ was the patrolman’s excuse, as he caught an inkling of the situation. ‘I was just trying to quiet them down a bit. I’m sorry, sir, very sorry.’
“‘That’s enough. Come to Commissioner Roosevelt’s office at half-past nine.’
“In search of the roundsman the Commissioner started to call him to account for all this laxity in discipline. The roundsman was found gossiping with two patrolmen on another beat.
“‘Which of you men belongs here?’ demanded the Commissioner, addressing the patrolmen.
“They and their companion met the inquiry defiantly. One of the trio retorted: ‘What business is that of yours?’
“The Commissioner made no response except to repeat his question in another form: ‘Which one of you is covering beat 31?’”
It was now plain that they were in trouble. By the light of a neighboring gas lamp the roundsman recognized the interrogator’s face. He cast a significant look at one of his companions, who answered meekly enough: “It’s me, sir.”
The other told where he belonged and left quickly for his post, while the roundsman made a poor fist of explaining that he was “just admonishing the patrolmen to move around and do their duty” when the commissioner came up.
“You may call on me at half-past nine and tell me all about it,” was the response. “I haven’t time now to listen.”
The culprits, when they appeared the next morning, had every conceivable excuse for their shortcomings. Many of them pleaded that this was their first offense.