The officer passed, leveling a baleful eye, and the Tyro staggered to the passageway, and with lowered head plunged directly into the midst of Judge Enderby.
"Here!" grunted the victim. "Get out of my waistcoat. What's the matter with the boy?"
In his woe the Tyro explained everything.
"Tch—tch—tch," clucked the leader of the New York bar, like a troubled hen. "That's bad."
"Can he do it?" besought the Tyro. "Can he lock her up?"
"I'm afraid there's no doubt of it."
"Then what on earth shall I do?"
"Give me five—No; I forgot. I've had my fee."
"It's rather less than your customary one, I'm afraid," said the Tyro, with an effortful smile.
"Reckoned in thousands it would be about right. But this is different. This is serious. I've got to think about this. Meantime you keep away from that pink-and-white peril. Understand?"