“Barton Mackenzie,
“99 Wall Street.
“Another adjournment fatal. Constable dying. Makes full confession. See him at once.
“Wire it, Nurse, wire it, and—let no one know! I thought I had done enough—but I’ll do it—I’ll beat them yet. Help me to live—till—he comes!”
IN HIS OWN BEHALF.
“Well, Clancy, your case is on the Day Calendar, and is likely to be reached this week.”
“’Tis thankful Oi am, Sorr.”
Michael Clancy’s two hundredweight of flesh and bones rested in my most reliable office chair, and Michael Clancy’s huge hands were clasped over his capacious stomach, while his outstretched legs were crossed in a settled attitude.
Clancy had been entrusted to me by a sympathetic House Physician of an up-town hospital. The story made a “negligence case.”