The Sergeant rang his bell. "Here, lock this man up with that woman's other husband," he said, pointing to the stranger.
The fellow ran out just in time, as the doorman made a grab for him. The Sergeant drew a tired breath and picked up the ruler to make a red line in his blotter. There was a brisk step, a rap, and a young fellow stood in the open door.
"Say, Serg," he began.
The Sergeant reached with his left hand for the inkstand, while his right clutched the ruler. He never took his eyes off the stranger.
"Say," wheedled he, glancing around and seeing no trap, "Serg, I say: that woman w'at's locked up, she's—"
"She's what?" asked the Sergeant, getting the range as well as he could.
"My wife," said the fellow.
There was a bang, the slamming of a door, and the room was empty. The doorman came running in, looked out, and up and down the street. But nothing was to be seen. There is no record of what became of the third husband of Mary Donovan.
The first slept serenely in the jail. The woman herself, when she saw the iron bars in the Elizabeth Street station, fell into hysterics and was taken to the Hudson Street Hospital.
Reilly was arraigned in the Tombs Police Court in the morning. He paid his fine and left, protesting that he was her only husband.