The officer looked at Mr. MacAckus and said, "Please move on, sir."
"That's polite enough," said one of the reporters, making a note of it. But Mr. MacAckus said:
"Why, you infernal—"
"Move on!" said the cop.
"I am Mr. MacAckus, of Valiquet's—"
"Tell him who you are, officer," said the diabolic Onthemaker, guessing the cop's nationality.
"I am Mr. McGinnis, of the thirty-first precinct."
People began to clap their hands—people who never went into Valiquet's. Mr. McGinnis thereupon laid a hand proudly on Mr. MacAckus's arm.
Mr. MacAckus lost his head; that is, he shook off the white-gloved hand of the law.
The law blew its whistle, as the law always does in civilized communities.