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It was several minutes before anybody answered his summons. Then an ignorant looking chambermaid appeared. "Phot does yez want?" she demanded, in a strong Irish brogue. "I am locked in. Let me out," answered Dick. After some fumbling, the chambermaid found her key and unlocked the door. She gazed at Dick in some surprise, for she saw that he was excited.
"I haven't any horse to spare just now, Mike," he said; "but hold on, you can have Billy, the mule, if you wish." There was a little twinkle in his eyes as he spoke, but Mike didn't see the twinkle and readily accepted the mule and led him over to where his own turn-out stood. "Moike Delaney, phot kind av a horse do yez call that?" demanded Rosy. "It's a mule, ye ignoramus," he answered.
"Yes," said Greene, for his hatred for a policeman stayed with him to the end, "ye can do me a favor." "An' phot is it?" "Jist keep your nose out of this business, an' don't speak to me again till after I'm dead. Do ye mind that, ye big duffer?" It was the first time in all his life when he could say what was on his mind to a policeman without the dread of being arrested.
He had slipped out of my hands completely. This was where the difference between five or six years in America as against two hundred showed itself. And yet what was the old stock doing to offset such personal ambition and energy as Rafferty stood for? "No, Dan," I said, "I can't do it. And what's more I won't let you do it if I can help it." "Phot do yez mane?" he asked.
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