in the gutter. For the rest, he was the only thing that made sound or motion.
When the red lights were still a block away, he saw "old Joe" doddering down to meet him, muffled in a yellow horse-blanket that he had doubled over his shoulders for a cape. He had a teamster's cap drawn down to his eyes. Under the peak of it, his old black pipe protruded, smokeless, as usual, for he generally sucked it cold.
"All right," Feeny said gruffly. "I 'll look out till yuh get back."
The old man stood to tamp his pipe with a hooked finger. Feeny turned him round with a hand on the shoulder, and they went along together.
The watchman coughed feebly. "I seen two dips goin' yonder to the baths," he said, "the Turkish baths. They 'll be out fer no good to any one, d' yeh think?"
Feeny grunted; he did not reply.
"It 's none av my business, that 's true enough," the watchman muttered. "I thought yeh 'd want to know."
"I don't care a curse if yuh seen all the crooks off the Bowery," Feeny growled.
The old man stiffened in his step. "Eh? What 's that? What 's that yeh 're sayin'?"
Feeny took him by the elbow. "Come on," he said. "I 'm sore. They 've been poundin' me—up to Headquarters. No offense, Joe. They 've been tryin' to shake me down.… An' by God,—" he broke out,
