"And at the magistrate's command,
And next undid the leathern band
That bound her tresses there,
And raised her felt hat from her head,
And down her slender form there spread
Black ringlets rich and rare."
Old Hurricane meanwhile dined at the public table at the Astor, and afterward went to his room to rest, smoke and ruminate. And he finished the evening by supping and retiring to bed.
In the morning, after an early breakfast, he wrote a dozen advertisements and called a cab and rode around to leave them with the various daily papers for immediate publication. Then, to lose no time, he rode up to the Recorder's office to set the police upon the search.
As he was about to enter the front portal he observed the doorway and passage blocked up with even a larger crowd than usual.
And seeing the cabman who had waited upon him the preceding day, he inquired of him:
"What is the matter here?"
"Nothing, your honor, 'cept a boy tuk up for wearing girl's clothes, or a girl tuk up for wearing boy's, I dunno which," said the man, touching his hat.
"Let me pass, then; I must speak to the chief of police," said Old Hurricane, shoving his way into the Recorder's room.
"This is not the office of the chief, sir; you will find him on the other side of the hall," said a bystander.