“It is enough! You have earned your whiskey. Walk up, gentlemen!”
Hooker and Briggs needed no second invitation.
“Will either of you take a note for me to Mrs. O’Keefe? For another drink, of course.”
“I will, Tim,” said Hooker, eagerly.
“No; take me, Mr. Bolton,” entreated Briggs.
“You can both go,” said Tim, generously. “Wait a minute, and I’ll have it ready for you.”
He found a half sheet of note paper, and scribbled on it this message:
“Mrs. O’Keefe:—Tell Miss Linden that I have a clew. I am almost surtin her cozen has got away with Dodger. He won’t hurt him, but he will get him out of the city. Wen I hear more I will right.
“T. Bolton.”