"As the gintleman didn't pay me, I expect you to do so," he replied, with refreshing coolness.
"Where is the gentleman now?" I asked; and, wishing to obtain some information in regard to Tom, if I could, I did not decline to pay his demand.
"I don't know where he is."
"What became of him?"
"With the help of some people I found in the bar-room, I took him into the public house. Bedad, it was a hard crack you guv him," added the hackman, in a low tone. "If you pay me the tin dollars, I won't say anything agin you."
"You carried him into the public house," I repeated. "What then?"
"Wait till I tell you. Begorra, I thought he was kilt, sure," he replied, in confidential whispers. "A bad scrape it was, and I didn't want to be in it; so I jumped on my box and druv off telling 'em I was goin' for a docther."
"Don't you know what became of him?"
"Faix, I do. Two hours afther, I sent a frind of mine, one Michael Mallahy, that lives convanient to the public house, to go and drink a glass of beer at the bar-room, and inquire for the man that was hurted. Now pay me my tin dollars, and I won't say a word."
"Did your friend find out about the man that was hurt?" I inquired, putting my hand into my pocket.