It was the howling boy who should have been locked up for getting under Mike's wheels, or his father who ought to have kept his son off the street.
Mike listened impatiently to the discussion and, watching his chance, beckoned to Kitty, shut the door upon the two, and poured into her ear a full account of what he had seen and heard at the station-house.
"Well, what's that got to do with it ?" Kitty demanded.

"What did she have to do with the boy ?" "Nothing, don't I tell ye--she's been swipin' a department store, and they got her dead to rights." "Who's been swipin'?
What are ye talkin' about, Mike?
Stop it now--I've got a lot to do, and--" "The woman ye put to bed that night.

The one ye picked up near St.
Barnabas, and brought in here and dried her off.

She skipped in the mornin' without sayin' 'thank ye'-- why, ye must remember her! She was--" Kitty clapped her two palms to her face, framing her bulging eyes--a favorite gesture when she was taken completely by surprise.
"That woman!" she cried, staring at Mike.

"Where is she now?
Tell me--" "I don't know--but she--" "Ye don't know, and ye come down here with this yarn?
Don't ye try and fool me, Mike, or I'll break every bone in yer skin.