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Henry, O., 1862-1910

"The Voice of the City: Further Stories of the Four Million"

"
"I knew it," said Kernan, raising his glass, with a flushed smile of
self-appreciation. "I can judge men. Here's to Barney, for--'he's a
jolly good fellow.'"
"I don't believe," went on Woods quietly, as if he were thinking
aloud, "that if accounts had been square between you and me, all the
money in all the banks in New York could have bought you out of my
hands to-night."
"I know it couldn't," said Kernan. "That's why I knew I was safe with
you."
"Most people," continued the detective, "look sideways at my
business. They don't class it among the fine arts and the
professions. But I've always taken a kind of fool pride in it. And
here is where I go 'busted.' I guess I'm a man first and a detective
afterward. I've got to let you go, and then I've got to resign from
the force. I guess I can drive an express wagon. Your thousand
dollars is further off than ever, Johnny."
"Oh, you're welcome to it," said Kernan, with a lordly air. "I'd be
willing to call the debt off, but I know you wouldn't have it. It
was a lucky day for me when you borrowed it. And now, let's drop the
subject. I'm off to the West on a morning train. I know a place out
there where I can negotiate the Norcross sparks. Drink up, Barney,
and forget your troubles. We'll have a jolly time while the police
are knocking their heads together over the case. I've got one of my
Sahara thirsts on to-night. But I'm in the hands--the unofficial
hands--of my old friend Barney, and I won't even dream of a cop.


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