"Garroway," he said, "you seem distrait."
"If that's how a feller is when he's been hit and punched, and stepped on and had pepper thrown at him and table-cloths put over his head I've got a swell license to seem distrait," replied the policeman bitterly. "And on top of all that, when I thought I had made a cop...."
"Brought about an arrest."
"... brought about an arrest which would have got me promotion, I find they're all friends of yours and have to be allowed to make a clean getaway. That's what jars me, Mr. Beamish."
Hamilton Beamish patted him on the shoulder.
"Every poet, Garroway, has to learn in suffering before he can teach in song. Look at Keats! Look at Chatterton! One of these days you will be thankful that all this has happened. It will be the making of you. Besides, think of the money you are going to get from Mr. Waddington to-morrow."
"I'd give it all for one long, cool drink now."
"Mr. Garroway."
The policeman looked up. Molly was standing in the window.
"Mr. Garroway," said Molly, "a most mysterious thing has happened. Mr. Finch has found two large bottles of champagne in his cupboard. He can't think how they got there, but he says would you care to come in and examine them and see whether they are good or not."