as much as the Lord protect me, I swung to me left from whence the noise came and beheld Mrs. Fennell (Sneeze)—­God bless us!—­rushing out of her own house the way you’d see a wild Injun rushing in the moving pictures and shouting like a circus lion before his breakfast:  “Police! police! police!” An’ as though it was the will of Providence, I was in the very place where me presence was required.

MRS. FENNELL
Accidents will happen, Sergeant.

SERGEANT
They will, and disasters too, if you don’t hold your
tongue.

PETER DWYER
Order, order.

SERGEANT HEALY (continuing) Well, in with me to the house without a moment’s delay, and what did I see but Richard Fennell sitting in an easy chair and smoking a cigar and looking as happy an’ contented as a Protestant after a meal of corn beef and cabbage on a Friday.  An’ the house, the Lord save us!—­one would think that ’twas struck be a cyclone.  The only thing that remained whole was the chair that he sat in and the decanter that fed the broken glass from which he drank the poteen.  “What brings you here?” ses he, to me.  An’ only I had the presence of mind of clapping the handcuffs on him before I had time to answer such an impertinent question, there might be one more above in the old churchyard and one less in this court of justice. (Sneezes) God bless us!  The story is nearly ended. (Sneezes) God bless us!  I—­(Sneezes) God bless us!  I—­(Waits for an expected sneeze and when disappointed he says “Thank God!”) I brought the prisoner to the barrack and have here the poteen that changed him from a law-abiding townsman into a fiend incarnate. (The sergeant then places the bottle of poteen on the counter, looks very hard at it, pretends to faint from sudden weakness, and asks for a drink of water) Can I have a little water, if you please? [Several rush to assist him.  There is no water in the court, and the clerk gets the kind of inspiration that the sergeant desires and fetches the poteen.  He pours some out in a glass and gives it to the sergeant.

PETER DWYER (to the sergeant) Try a little drop of the spirits, Sergeant, as there isn’t a drop of water to be had.  The plumbers are working at the pipes.

SERGEANT (softly) Bad luck to them for plumbers.  They are always a nuisance. (Before putting glass to his lips) I suppose I must take it, because I am dry as a bona-fide traveller. (He finishes it all in one drink) It doesn’t taste too bad after all, and water at its best isn’t much good for one who must do a lot of talking.  I’ll have a little more, if you please.

MR. O’CROWLEY You can’t have any more, Sergeant.  That would be abusing your privilege.

SERGEANT HEALY (softly) Alright, your Worship.  When a man’s as full of the law as meself, ’tis hard to remember when he’s privileged. [The sergeant recovers and the case proceeds.