"Sure, ma'am, it's nobody I am. I've never done anything worse than pick a pocket untel a short time ago, when I had the misfortune to get mixed up in a bit av a scrap—and the other feller didn't have the common dacency to get on his feet ag'in when it was over. He jest stayed there, so he did, and thinkin' that somebody would be axin' questions of me, I lit out. Ye wouldn't know a thing more about me if I should talk for a week—but, sure, if there's a question ye'd like to ax me, I'll be afther answerin' it to the best of me ability, so I will."
"What brought you to me?"
"Me legs—no less; begging y'r pardon for mentionin' it. They weren't purty to look at when Handsome stripped me—but we needn't mention that, aither."
"But you came here in search of Hobo Harry."
"I did. That same."
"Who sent you here to find him?"
"Nobody. I had to go somewhere. I had been readin' the papers, and I had seen a lot about Hobo Harry in 'em. All of the papers said that he was to be found around here somewhere, and that the divil himself couldn't catch him; and I says to mesilf, says I, sure that's the broth av a boy ye want to find, Pat—and here I am, ma'am."
"Did you ever hear of Nick Carter?"
"I have that."
"Ever see him?"