re all saying you acted all right and wanted to take him to
Roosevelt. There's many," he added with sententious indignation, "that
knock a man down, and then run away without waiting to find out if
they've hurted 'em or killed 'em."

The speech for both Winthrop and Miss Forbes was equally embarrassing.

"You don't say?" exclaimed Winthrop nervously. He shook the
policeman's hand. The handclasp was apparently satisfactory to that
official, for he murmured "Thank you," and stuck something in the
lining of his helmet. "Now, then!" Winthrop said briskly to Miss
Forbes, "I think we have done all we can. And we'll get away from this
place a little faster than the law allows."

Miss Forbes had seated herself in the car, and Winthrop was cranking
up, when the same policeman, wearing an anxious countenance, touched
him on the arm. "There is a gentleman here," he said, "wants to speak
to you." He placed himself between the gentleman and Winthrop and
whispered: "He's 'Izzy' Schwab, he's a Harlem police-court lawyer and
a Tammany man. He's after something, look out for him."

Winthrop saw, smiling at him ingratiatingly, a slight, slim youth, with
beady, rat-like eyes, a low forehead, and a Hebraic nose. He wondered
how it had been possible for Jerry Gaylor to so quickly secure counsel.
But Mr. Schwab at once undeceived him.

"I'm from the Journal," he began, "not regular on the staff, but I send
'em Harlem items, and the court reporter treats me nice, see! Now
about this accident; could you give me the name of the young lady?"

He smiled encouragingly at Miss Forbes.

"I could not!" growled Winthrop. "The man wasn't hurt, the policeman
will tell you so. It is not of the least public interest."

With a deprecatory shrug, the young man smiled knowingly.

"Well, mebbe not the lady's name," he granted, "but the name of the
OTHER gentleman who was with you, when the accident occurred." His
black, rat-like eyes snapped. "I think HIS name would be of public
interest."

To gain time Winthrop stepped into the driver's seat. He looked at Mr.
Schwab steadily.

"There was no other gentleman," he said. "Do you mean my chauffeur?"
Mr. Schwab gave an appreciative chuckle.

"No, I don't mean your chauffeur," he mimicked. "I mean," he declared
theatrically in his best police-court manner, "the man who to-day is
hoping to beat Tammany, Ernest Peabody!"

Winthrop stared at the youth insolently.

"I don't understand