Corcoran raised his club menacingly. Whether he would have struck “Big Jim,” or merely wished to intimidate him, I do not know; he had not been long on the force, and he felt his authority keenly. But Captain Dolan stepped forward, holding out an imperative hand.
“One moment, officer!” he said sternly.
For a breathless instant the tableau held. Then Corcoran, closing his amazed mouth, thrust his flushed face close to Captain Dolan’s.
“What business have you got butting in on this, anyway?” he shouted. “Who told you to give orders? You seem to have been a friend of this fellow’s, by what Tom here says. But how do we know you didn’t have a grudge against him and doped him tonight aboard your boat? How do we know you didn’t give him wood alcohol or something to drink that put him down and out? You’d better just keep quiet and stick around here till the doc takes a look at him.”
Captain Dolan’s wrinkled, parchment-like face turned an angry red, and his bony hands clenched. Then, suddenly, he relaxed, uttering a short, mirthless laugh.
“In remaining here, as you request,” he replied, “’tis my idea to see justice done. Little love as Terence had for Jerry Kramer and his gang, he would wish fair play, even for ‘Big Jim’ there. And for that reason I’ll be asking your kind indulgence while I tell you a little of Terence McFadden.”
Corcoran glared at the old man. Kenton shrugged his shoulders.
“Go ahead,” he said. “We’ve got to wait for the car.”