“Never thought you’d have to pinch me, did you?” grinned Joe.
“Begorra, I haven’t pinched you yet,” whispered the policeman, with a wink. “An’ by the same token, I don’t think I’m goin’ to now. Not if I can annyways git out of it.”
The doctor rose from his examination of the patient.
“Nothing serious,” he announced. “His lip is cut and his throat will be sore for a while. That’s all.”
“Now I want to know just what happened,” demanded the hotel manager. “This may be a case for the courts.”
“I knocked the man down,” admitted Joe. “And he’s lucky to have got off with just that. He can tell you why I did it if he wants to.”
“Jist a little mix-up betwane gintlemen,” murmured Lonergan, the policeman, minimizing the matter. “’Tis happenin’ every day.”
“Do you want to make a charge against this man?” asked the manager, turning to Tompkinson.
The latter looked hesitatingly at Harrish.
“My friend and I will confer for a moment,” said Harrish, and bending over his companion a whispered colloquy ensued.