“Well, where’d she come from?”
“Oh, here in New York. Her family locked her out one night, I think.”
Something in the way the woman said this last brought old Rogaum and his daughter back to the policemen’s minds. They had forgotten all about her by now, although they had turned in an alarm. Fearing to interfere too much with this well-known and politically controlled institution, the two men left, but outside they fell to talking of the other case.
“We ought to tell old Rogaum about her some time,” said Maguire to Delahanty cynically. “He locked his kid out to-night.”
“Yes, it might be a good thing for him to hear that,” replied the other. “We’d better go round there an’ see if his girl’s back yet. She may be back by now,” and so they returned but little disturbed by the joint miseries.
At Rogaum’s door they once more knocked loudly.
“Is your daughter back again?” asked Maguire when a reply was had.
“Ach, no,” replied the hysterical Mrs. Rogaum, who was quite alone now. “My husband he haf gone oudt again to loog vunce more. Oh, my! Oh, my!”
“Well, that’s what you get for lockin’ her out,” returned Maguire loftily, the other story fresh in his mind. “That other girl downstairs here to-night was locked out too, once.” He chanced to have a girl-child of his own and somehow he was in the mood for pointing a moral. “You oughtn’t to do anything like that. Where d’yuh expect she’s goin’ to if you lock her out?”
Mrs. Rogaum groaned. She explained that it was not her fault, but anyhow it was carrying coals to Newcastle to talk to her so. The advice was better for her husband.