Part 24 (1/2)
”Yis! Poor woman! And she belaives it, too, so she do. But says I to myself, says I, some blackguard thaif has sthole the little sunbeam of her heart, which do be nearly broken entirely, so it do!” and Smith turned his head away to hide the tears that came unbidden to his eyes.
”Do you think so?”
”I do.”
”Do you?”
”I do, by me faith, I do, and ave I could lay me hands on the wan who is raysponsible fer it, sure there'd be somethin' doin'!”
Sam had slim faith in George Golda calling at the police station to claim the medal, but he believed it possible to locate him by diligent and discreet inquiry. With that idea he beckoned Smith into a lobby of an adjacent building, which at that early hour was untenanted, and produced the medal from his vest pocket. Handing it to Smith, he said guardedly, ”I found it in the City Park this morning.”
”Sure I can't rade Frinch at all, at all!” said Smith, examining the bronze.
”It's a Garibaldi medal. I can trust you with it?”
”Phwat d'yees mane?” Smith responded with a snap.
”This,” and Sam added confidentially in a low voice, ”circulate among the shanties and scow dwellers below the North Pacific mill. Show the medal, prudently, mind, but never let it pa.s.s out of your hands.”
”I want!” responded Smith, thrusting it in his inside coat pocket. ”Be it raysponsible for yees hurt?”
”Of that--well, no matter--I fear where the fellow who lost the bronze lives--there will be found the little one.” Sam had spoken in a voice so soft and low and grave that it startled Smith.
During the pause that followed, he looked at Sam in steadfast amaze.
”Do yees belave it?” he finally asked.
”I do!”
”Sure, yees do be after me own hart. I tould thim some thaivin'
blackguard----”
”Hus.h.!.+” Sam interrupted, ”not so loud. If a fellow by the name of George Golda claims it”----
”George Golda!” repeated Smith.
”Yes; if George Golda claims it bring him to me. If he will not come, track him, and let me know where he lives as soon as possible. Do it quietly.”
”Sure, I will that. D'yees think he's the wan?” whispered Smith, intensely interested.
”We shall see,” replied Sam. ”But don't part with the bronze. You will remember?”
”I will, be me soul, I will, and be the token ave it, I'll”--and Smith spat on his hands and made other significant manifestations quite understandable to descendants of a fighting nation.
Immediately thereafter Sam continued on to Simms' office, and there, closeted with the detective, related his experience.
Twenty minutes later, a quiet, una.s.suming, seedy-looking man carelessly lounged about in the vicinity of the Plaza fountain, and no matter what position he occupied, or where he loitered, express No.