“But I’ve got him wrong!” pleaded Delany.  “You don’t want me to put my neck in a sling, do you, so as you can make a few dollars?  Look at all the money I’ve sent your way.  Have a heart, Rafe!”

“Bull!” sneered the Honorable Rafe.  “A man’s gotta live!  You saw him do it!  You’ve sworn to it, haven’t you?”

“I made a mistake.”

“How’ll that sound to the commissioner?  An’ to Judge Harrison?  No, no!  Nothin’ doin’!  If you start anything like that I’ll roast the life out of you!”

Delany spat as near Hogan’s foot as he elegantly could.

“You’re a hell of a feller, you are!” he growled, and turned his back on him as upon Satan.

* * * * *

The brick that Terry McGurk hurled as a matter of principle through Froelich’s window produced almost as momentous consequences as the want of the horseshoe nail did in Franklin’s famous maxim.  It is the unknown element in every transaction that makes for danger.

The morning after the catastrophe Mr. Froelich promptly made application to the casualty company with which he had insured his window for reimbursement for his damage.  Just as promptly the company’s lawyer appeared at the butcher shop and ascertained that the miscreant who had done the foul deed had been arrested and was to be brought into court that afternoon.  This lawyer, whose salary depended indirectly upon the success which attended his efforts to secure the conviction and punishment of those who had cost his company money, immediately camped upon the trails of both Froelich and Delany.  It was up to them, he said, to have the doer of wanton mischief sent away.  If they didn’t cooperate he would most certainly ascertain why.  Now insurance companies are powerful corporations.  They can do favors, and contrariwise they can make trouble, and Lawyer Asche was hot under the collar about that window.  Had he ever heard of the place he would have likened it to the destruction of Coucy-le-Chateau by the Huns.

This, for Delany, put an entirely new aspect upon the affair.  It was one thing to ditch a case and another to run up against Nathan Asche.  He had sworn to the complaint and if he didn’t make good on the witness stand Asche would get his hide.  Then he bethought him that if only Froelich was sufficiently emphatic in his testimony a little uncertainty on his own part might be excused.

In the meantime, however, two things had happened to curdle Froelich’s enthusiasm.  First, his claim against the Tornado Casualty Company had been approved, and second, he had been informed on credible authority that they had got the wrong boy.  Now he had sincerely thought that he had seen Tony throw the brick—­he had certainly seen a boy in a red sweater do something—­but he realized also that he had been excited and more or less bewildered at the time; and his informant—­Mrs. Sussman, the wife of the cigar dealer—­alleged positively that it had been thrown by a strange kid who appeared suddenly from round the corner and as suddenly ran away in the direction whence he had come.