was hours too early for that. Margaret was too much
upset to be fit for company, so I answered the bell myself. And who in
the world should be standin' on the steps but that big Dempsey man, the
boss of the Golconda House, where me and Simeon had been stayin'; the
feller we'd spoke to that very mornin'.

"'Good evenin', sor,' says he, in a voice as deep as a well. 'I'm glad
to find you to home, sor. There's a telegram come for you at my place,'
he says, 'and as your friend lift the address when he come for the
baggage this afternoon, I brought it along to yez. I was comin' this
way, so 'twas no trouble.'

"'That's real kind of you,' I says. 'Step inside a minute, won't you?'

"So in he comes, and stands, holdin' his shiny beaver in his hand, while
I tore open the telegram envelope. 'Twas a message from a feller I knew
with the Clyde Line of steamboats. He had found out, somehow, that we
was in New York, and the telegram was an order for us to come and make
him a visit.

"'I hope it's not bad news, sor,' says the big chap.

"'No, no,' says I. 'Not a bit of it, Mr. Dempsey. Come on in and have a
cigar, won't you?'

"'Thank you, sor,' says he. 'I'm glad it's not the bad news. Sure, I ax
you and your friend's pardon for bein' so short to yez this mornin', but
I'm in that throuble lately that me timper is all but gone.'

"'That so?' says I. 'Trouble's thick in this world, ain't it? Me and Mr.
Phinney got a case of trouble on our hands now, Mr. Dempsey, and--'

"'Excuse me, sor,' he says. 'My name's not Dempsey. I suppose you seen
the sign with me partner's name on it. I only bought into the business
a while ago, and the new sign's not ready yit. Me name is O'Shaughnessy,
sor.'

"'What?' says I. And then: 'WHAT?'

"'O'Shaughnessy. Michael O'Shaughnessy. I--'

"'Hold on!' I sung out. 'For the land sakes, hold on! WHAT'S your name?'

"He bristled up like a cat.

"'Michael O'Shaughnessy,' he roars, like the bull of Bashan. 'D'yez
find any fault with it? 'Twas me father's before me--Michael Patrick
O'Shaughnessy, of County Sligo. I'll have yez know--WHAT'S THAT?'

"'Twas a scream from the libr'ry. Next thing I knew, Margaret, the nurse
girl, was standin' in the hall, white as a Sunday shirt, and swingin'
back and forth like a wild-carrot stalk in a gale.

"'Mike!' says she, kind of low and faint. 'Mary be good to us! MIKE!'

"And the big chap dropped his tall hat on the floor and turned as white
as she was.