“Drunk again,” said Sadness.  “Really, it ’s a waste of time for Joe to sober up.  Hullo there!” as the young man brought up against him; “take a seat.”  He put him in a chair at the table.  “Been lushin’ a bit, eh?”

“Gi’ me some’n’ drink.”

“Oh, a hair of the dog.  Some men shave their dogs clean, and then have hydrophobia.  Here, Jack!”

They drank, and then, as if the whiskey had done him good, Joe sat up in his chair.

“Ha’ie ’s throwed me down.”

“Lucky dog!  You might have known it would have happened sooner or later.  Better sooner than never.”

Skaggs smoked in silence and looked at Joe.

“I ‘m goin’ to kill her.”

“I would n’t if I were you.  Take old Sadness’s advice and thank your stars that you ’re rid of her.”

“I ‘m goin’ to kill her.”  He paused and looked at them drowsily.  Then, bracing himself up again, he broke out suddenly, “Say, d’ ever tell y’ ‘bout the ol’ man?  He never stole that money.  Know he di’ n’.”

He threatened to fall asleep now, but the reporter was all alert.  He scented a story.

“By Jove!” he exclaimed, “did you hear that?  Bet the chap stole it himself and ’s letting the old man suffer for it.  Great story, ain’t it?  Come, come, wake up here.  Three more, Jack.  What about your father?”

“Father?  Who’s father.  Oh, do’ bother me.  What?”

“Here, here, tell us about your father and the money.  If he did n’t steal it, who did?”

“Who did?  Tha’ ‘s it, who did?  Ol’ man di’ n’ steal it, know he di’ n’.”

“Oh, let him alone, Skaggsy, he don’t know what he ’s saying.”

“Yes, he does, a drunken man tells the truth.”

“In some cases,” said Sadness.

“Oh, let me alone, man.  I ’ve been trying for years to get a big sensation for my paper, and if this story is one, I ’m a made man.”

The drink seemed to revive the young man again, and by bits Skaggs was able to pick out of him the story of his father’s arrest and conviction.  At its close he relapsed into stupidity, murmuring, “She throwed me down.”

“Well,” sneered Sadness, “you see drunken men tell the truth, and you don’t seem to get much guilt out of our young friend.  You ’re disappointed, are n’t you?”

“I confess I am disappointed, but I ’ve got an idea, just the same.”

“Oh, you have?  Well, don’t handle it carelessly; it might go off.”  And Sadness rose.  The reporter sat thinking for a time and then followed him, leaving Joe in a drunken sleep at the table.  There he lay for more than two hours.  When he finally awoke, he started up as if some determination had come to him in his sleep.  A part of the helplessness of his intoxication had gone, but his first act was to call for more whiskey.  This he gulped down, and followed with another and another.  For a while he stood still, brooding silently, his red eyes blinking at the light.  Then he turned abruptly and left the club.