It was well on toward midnight when he came out on the street again, and the one drink had become many drinks; still mindful of his original purpose, however, he reeled across the Square on his way home.  He had just turned into Mulberry Street when he became conscious of a brisk step on the pavement at his side, and at the same instant a heavy hand descended on his shoulder and he found himself looking into Andy Gilmore’s dark face.

“Where have you been?” demanded Gilmore.  “I thought I told you to stay about to-night!”

“I have been down to Lonigan’s saloon,” faltered Joe, his courage going from him at sight of the gambler.

“What took you there?” asked Gilmore angrily.  “Don’t you get enough to drink at my place?”

“Lots to drink, boss, but it’s mostly too rich for my blood.  I ain’t used to bein’ so pampered.”

“Come along with me!” said Gilmore briefly.

“Where to, boss?” asked Montgomery, in feeble protest.

“You’ll know presently.”

“I thought I’d like to go home, maybe—­” said Joe irresolutely.

“Never mind what you thought you’d like, you come with me!” insisted Gilmore.

Although the handy-man’s first impulse had been that of revolt, he now followed the gambler meekly back across the Square.  They entered the building at the corner of Main Street and mounted to Mr. Gilmore’s rooms.  The latter silently unlocked the door and motioned Montgomery to precede him into the apartment, then he followed, pausing midway of the room to turn up the gas which was burning low.  Next he divested himself of his hat and coat, and going to a buffet which stood between the two heavily curtained windows that overlooked the Square, found a decanter and glasses.  These he brought to the center-table, where he leisurely poured his unwilling guest a drink.

“Here, you old sot, soak this up!” he said genially.

“Boss, I want to go home to my old woman!” began the handy-man, after he had emptied his glass.

“Your old woman will keep!” retorted Gilmore shortly.

“But, boss, I got to go to her; the judge says I must!  She’s been there to see him; damn it, she cried and hollered and took on awful because she ain’t seein’ me; it was pitiful!”

“What’s that?” demanded Gilmore sharply.

“It was pitiful!” repeated Montgomery, shaking his great head dolorously.

“Oh, cut that!  Who have you seen?”

“Judge Langham.”

“When did you see him?”

Mr. Gilmore spoke with a forced calm.

“To-night.  My old woman—­”

“Oh, to hell with your old woman!” shouted the gambler furiously.  “Do you mean that you were at Judge Langham’s to-night?”

“Yes, boss; he sent for me, see?  I had to go!” explained Montgomery.

“Why did you go there without letting me know, you drunken loafer?” stormed Gilmore.

He took the handy-man by the arm and pushed him into a chair, then he stood above him, black-browed and menacing.