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Why, there's Hickey, he daren't arrest saloonkeeper or gambler, though he hates whiskey and the whole outfit worse than poison. Why doesn't he? The Honourable McKenty, M. P., drops him a hint. Hickey is told to mind his own business and leave the saloon and the 'red lights' alone, and so poor Hickey is sitting down trying to discover what his business is ever since.
For me let me see cafe au lait," with a grand air, "and rolls.... You must remember this is my breakfast, Mr. Hickey. I make it a rule never to drink anything for six hours after rising." Anisty selected a cigarette from the Maitland case, lit it, and contemplated the detective's countenance with a winning smile. "Now, as to this Anisty affair last night...."
"Some one must've tipped that crook off. Anyway, I ain't goin' to wait no longer." "I wouldn't neither," agreed the uniformed member. "Say, who's yer friend yeh was talkin' tuh, 'while ago?" "Oh, a frien' of mine. Yeh didn't have no call to git excited then, Jim. G'night." And Hickey proceeded westward, a listless and preoccupied man by the vacant eye of him.
Browning's genius coincided with the highest manifestation of public interest, which he, or with one exception, any living writer, had probably yet received: the establishment of a Society bearing his name, and devoted to the study of his poetry. The idea arose almost simultaneously in the mind of Dr., then Mr. Furnivall, and of Miss E. H. Hickey.
His inflamed features were suddenly whitened, and his right arm dropped limply from the shoulder, revolver falling from fingers involuntarily relaxing. Hickey covered him. "Surrender!" he roared. And fired again. For Anisty had gone to his knees, reaching for the revolver with his uninjured arm.
And of a sudden Hickey had drawn the bolt, and the body of police behind forced Maitland pell-mell into the room. As he recovered he saw Hickey hurling himself at the criminal's throat one second too late. True to his pledge never to be taken alive, Anisty had sent his last bullet crashing through his own skull. A cry of horror and consternation forced itself from Maitland's throat.
* Miss Hickey, on reading this passage, has called my attention to the fact that the sentiment which it parodies is identical with that expressed in these words of 'Prospice', . . . in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness, and cold.
The man addressed as Hickey turned to his two companions, one of whom was a tall, lanky chap, with straggly black hair, and bristly, unshaven chin. The other was a short, fat, rather good-natured looking little man, whose truculent chin, however, gave the lie to his incessant smile.
"And some one's let down the bottom length of ladder, but there ain't nobody in sight." "No," interjected Hickey, "'nd there wouldn't 've been if you'd been waitin' in the back yard all night." "Certainly not," Maitland agreed blandly; "especially if my burglar had known it. In which case I fancy he would have chosen another route by the roof, possibly."
You're so quick, as a rule, you know, I confess you duped me neatly this afternoon, that I supposed you were wise and only afraid that I'd give you what you deserve.... If they had sent any one but that stupid ass, Hickey, to nab me, I'd be in the cooler now.
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