Simple,” said Mr. Hennessy, scornfully; “’tis foolish.”

“Niver mind,” said Mr. Dooley.  “Pass th’ dope, Watson.  Now bein’ full iv th’ cillybrated Chow Sooey brand, I addhress me keen mind to th’ discussion iv th’ case iv Dorsey’s dog.  Watson, look out iv th’ window an’ see if that’s a cab goin’ by ringin’ a gong.  A throlley car?  So much th’ betther.  Me observation tol’ me it was not a balloon or a comet or a reindeer.  Ye ar-re a gr-reat help to me, Watson.  Pass th’ dope.  Was there a dog on th’ car?  No?  That simplifies th’ thing.  I had an idee th’ dog might have gone to wurruk.  He was a bull-tarryer, ye say.  D’ye know annything about his parents?  Be Mulligan’s Sloppy Weather out iv O’Hannigan’s Diana iv th’ Slough?  Iv coorse.  Was ayether iv thim seen in th’ neighborhood th’ night iv th’ plant?  No?  Thin it is not, as manny might suppose, a case iv abduction.  What were th’ habits iv Dorsey’s coyote?  Was he a dog that dhrank?  Did he go out iv nights?  Was he payin’ anny particular attintions to anny iv th’ neighbors?  Was he baffled in love?  Ar-re his accounts sthraight?  Had Dorsey said annything to him that wud ’ve made him despondent?  Ye say no.  He led a dog’s life but seemed to be happy.  Thin ’tis plainly not a case iv suicide.

“I’m gettin’ up close to th’ criminals.  Another shot iv th’ mad mixture.  Wait till I can find a place in th’ ar-rm.  There ye ar-re.  Well, Watson, what d’ye make iv it?”

“If ye mane me, Dugan stole th’ dog.”

“Not so fast,” said Mr. Dooley.  “Like all men iv small minds ye make ye’ers up readily.  Th’ smaller th’ mind, th’ aisier ’tis made up.  Ye’ers is like a blanket on th’ flure befure th’ fire.  All ye have to do to make it up is to lave it.  Mine is like a large double bed, an’ afther I’ve been tossin’ in it, ’tis no aisy job to make it up.  I will puncture me tire with th’ fav’rite flower iv Chinnytown an’ go on.  We know now that th’ dog did not elope, that he didn’t commit suicide an’ that he was not kidnaped be his rayturnin’ parents.  So far so good.  Now I’ll tell ye who stole th’ dog.  Yisterdah afthernoon I see a suspicious lookin’ man goin’ down th’ sthreet.  I say he was suspicious lookin’ because he was not disguised an’ looked ivry wan in th’ face.  He had no dog with him.  A damning circumstance, Watson, because whin he’d stolen th’ dog he niver wud ’ve taken it down near Dorsey’s house.  Ye wudden’t notice these facts because ye’er mind while feeble is unthrained.  His coat collar was turned up an’ he was whistlin’ to himsilf, a habit iv dog fanciers.  As he wint be Hogan’s house he did not look around or change his gait or otherwise do annything that wud indicate to an unthrained mind that there was annything wrong, facts in thimsilves that proved to me cultivated intilligence that he was guilty.  I followed him in me mind’s eye to his home an’ there chained to th’ bed leg is Dorsey’s dog.  Th’ name iv th’ criminal is P. X. O’Hannigan, an’ he lives at twinty-wan hundhred an’ ninety-nine South Halsted sthreet, top flat, rear, a plumber be pro-fission.  Officer, arrest that man!