"All right, Daisy," hiccoughed McGinnis. "Goin' home with me, ain't ye?" with a leer.
"Yes."
"Bully for you. You're a gal of the right stripe. Sail ahead—give us a wing, though, for I'm kind o' unstiddy on my pins. An' I say, you must be well seasoned, 'cause you don't show the effects of this bout's much as I do."
"I've drank many a stout lad under the table," was the laughing reply, and McGinnis looked at his Daisy more admiringly than before.
Too drunk to know even where he was going, Shadow found no trouble in leading the villain whither he wished, since McGinnis now trusted him completely.
"What a mash!" McGinnis kept muttering to himself, and every time they passed under a street-lamp he insisted on having another look at his darling Daisy's face.
"What's zish?" he finally asked, reeling unsteadily and glancing around. "What's zish? Where'sh the house? Zish is a dock!"
Shadow had led him to a lonely and deserted pier on the east side of town.
Click!
Click!