l the name of the Third Avenue saloon, though Grogan
had been dead some years, and one Franz Lehr now presided within that
palace of cherrywood, brass and pretzels.

Into the family entrance fled Soane, down a dim hallway past several
doors, from behind which sounded voices joining in guttural song; and
came into a rear room.

The one-eyed man sat there at a small table, piecing together
fragments of a letter.

"Arrah, then," cried Soane, "phwat th' devil did ye do, Max?"

The man barely glanced at him.

"Vy iss it," he enquired tranquilly, "you don'd vatch Nihla Quellen by
dot wentilator some more?"

"I axe ye," shouted Soane, "what t'hell ye done to Dulcie!"

"Vat I haff done already yet?" queried the one-eyed man, not looking
up, and continuing to piece together the torn letter. "Vell, I tell
you, Soane; dot kid she keep dot letter in her handt, und I haff to
grab it. Sacre saligaud de malheur! Dot letter she tear herself in
two. Pas de chance! Your kid she iss mad like tigers! Voici--all zat
rests me de la sacre-nom-de sacreminton de lettre----"

"Ah, shut up, y'r Dootch head-cheese!--wid y'r gillipin' gallopin'
gabble!" cut in Soane wrathfully. "D'ye mind phwat ye done? It's not
petty larceny, ye omadhoun!--it's highway robbery ye done--bad cess to
ye!"

The one-eyed man shrugged:

"Pourtant, I must haff dot letter----" he observed, undisturbed by
Soane's anger; but Soane cut him short again fiercely:

"You an' y'r dommed letter! Phwat do you care if I'm fired f'r this
night's wurruk? Y'r letter, is it? An' what about highway robbery, me
bucko! An' me off me post! How'll I be explaining that? Ah, ye sicken
me entirely, ye Dootch square-head! Now, phwat'll I say to them? Tell
me that, Max Freund! Phwat'll I tell th' aygent whin he comes runnin'?
Phwat'll I tell th' po-lice? Arrah, phwat't'hell do you care,
anyway?" he shouted. "I've a mind f'r to knock the block off ye----"

"You shall say to dot agent you haff gone out to smell," remarked Max
Freund placidly.

"Smell, is it? Smell what, ye dom----"

"You smell some smoke. You haff fear of fire. You go out to see. Das
iss so simble, ach! Take shame, you Irish Sinn Fein! You behave like
rabbits!" He pointed to his arrangement of the torn letter on the
table: "Here iss sufficient already--regardez! Look once!" He laid one
long, soiled and bony finger on the fragments: "Read it vat iss
written!"

"G'wan, now!"

"I tell you, read!"

Soane, still