There was not much of Officer Garroway's face that was not concealed by the bandage and the steak, but on the small residuum there appeared a look of doubt and dissatisfaction.
"And what about this bird here?" he asked, indicating George.
"This individual before me," corrected Hamilton Beamish. "What about him, Garroway?"
"He soaked me in the eye."
"No doubt in a spirit of wholesome fun. Where did this happen?"
"Down there in the Purple Chicken."
"Ah! Well, if you knew that restaurant better, you would understand that that sort of thing is the merest commonplace of everyday life at the Purple Chicken. You must overlook it, Garroway."
"Can't I push his head down his throat?"
"Certainly not. I cannot have you annoying Mr. Finch. He is to be married to-morrow, and he is a friend of mine."
"But...."