SOMETHING DOING.
Dick stopped in his tracks.
“Stung!” he muttered.
Officer Maloney wore an expression of puzzled astonishment.
“Phwat’s going on here, Oi dunno?” he inquired, fixing a jealous eye on
Patrick McGee.
Maggie Swazey seemed flabbergasted for a moment, but she quickly
recovered, and, pointing an accusing finger at the new arrival, she
shrieked:
“How dare you show your face here, you wretch?”
“Hey?” grunted Maloney, in astonishment.
“You scoundrel! You reprobate! You base deceiver! You breaker of
innocent hearts! You—you—you——”
She could find no epithet that expressed her intense emotion. Behind the
excited girl’s back Tommy Tucker thrust his head out from beneath the
couch and cried:
“Hit the high places, Dick! Hump yourself!”
Beneath the sink there was a crash as Buckhart inadvertently brought
down one of the tin pans. Bouncer Bigelow was fruitlessly trying to mop
some of the buttermilk off his clothes with his handkerchief. It was an
interesting tableau, and, in spite of himself, the disguised boy
laughed.
“Phwat do ye mane by laughing?” roared Officer Maloney. “Phwat’s your
name? How did yez happen to come on my bate? Ye shnake, ye’re trying to
steal me girrul!”
The hot blood mounted to the face of the speaker, and he stepped
belligerently into the room.
“Skip, Dick!” said Tucker, once more. “It’s your last chance!”
“Get out!” cried Maggie, waving Maloney back. “I don’t want to see your
treacherous features. Don’t show your face to me! You’ve broke my poor
heart! you’re a monster! Go back to your wife!”
“Me woife?” shouted Dennis, astounded. “Go back to phwat?”
“Back to your wife, you monster! Had seventeen girls on the string at
once, did you? Bragged about it, did you? If I’d ever found that out in
time, I’d served you the way the other one did: I’d married you!”
“Sure, darlint, Oi don’t undershtand yes,” faltered Maloney. “It’s not
married Oi am at all, at all.”
“Not—not married?”
“Not yit, and Oi nivver will be onless ye have me yersilf.”
“But—but—but your friend—your friend, Officer McGee—he told me you were
married this morning.”
Maloney glared at the disguised boy, at the same time reaching for his
club.
“Me fri’nd, Officer McGee?” he rasped. “So thot’s phwat he’s been
telling ye, is it? Well, now Oi think Oi’ll hav a bit to say to Officer
McGee, a mon phwat Oi nivver saw before in all me loife. Ye lyin’
shnake! Oi’m goin’ to break yer head, so Oi am!”
He meant it, too, for he charged at Dick, who barely escaped with a
nimble duck and a quick dodge to one side.
“Hold on, hold on!” spluttered Bigelow, managing to get in the enraged
policeman’s way. “Let’s have an understanding.”
“An ondershtandin’?” howled Maloney. “Oi’ll give him an ondershtandin’!”
Tucker started to crawl from beneath the couch, but the enraged Irishman
hurled Bigelow staggering to one side, and, getting his feet tangled,
the fat boy spun like a top and finished by sitting down heavily on
Tucker’s head.
Thump! thump! thump! It was Buckhart pounding furiously on the sink door
in an effort to get out.
“Yow! yow!” squawked Tucker smotheredly; “my nose—you’ve smashed my
nose!”
Having clung fast to the hatpin, he now jabbed it fiercely into Bigelow,
who gave a wild yell of pain and rolled out into the middle of the room
just in time to catch Officer Maloney’s foot and send him sprawling.
“Heaven sakes!” palpitated Maggie Swazey, with uplifted hands. “This is
terrible!”
Dick saw his opportunity now and embraced it. He did not wait for
Maloney to rise, but promptly ducked for the back door and disappeared
into outer darkness.