jumped out of bed and began crying: 'My God!' and 'Mamma;' likewise promised 'never to do it again.'
"Never to do what again?" asked Mark.
"I don't know, sir."
"But you were right next to her; why didn't you ask her?" insisted Mark.
"But it was her private business," said the barber.
"Sure it was, but that was so much more reason for worming it out of her. You are a good barber, but a h of a reporter."
"Of course, the floor attendants came trooping to Thaw's door and the house telephone and speaking tubes emitted a volley of questions.
"Harry was prepared to give an impertinent though truthful answer. But Evelyn took the phone in hand and swore that it was an accident, due to her carelessness—Harry had nothing to do with it, and she was going to apologize to the management. When things had quieted down. Thaw told me on the d. q. that he would transfer his revolver practice to a certain shooting gallery. 'I want to be an A No. 1 shot when I return to New York,' he said. 'There is a fellow who has deeply wronged my girl and I am going to have it out with him.'"
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