"That's why I want you along. Come on, Doc. This is an order!" "Confound you and your orders." He hung up angrily, and the lieutenant heard him breaking up the poker game as he snapped his own switch closed. * * * * * It was ten minutes to the second when the car pulled up before McCarthy's. O'Leary was already inside, talking to a man holding a chunk of raw beef to his eye. "Now," said McDowell, entering with the doctor on his heels, "what's this about feathers?" "Swear it, lieutenant. An' I want the devil clapped in jail where he belongs." "Sure now," said McDowell in a mollifying tone, "and you can prove them feathers were really growin'?" "Sure," snapped McCarthy. "Here!" and he handed Lieutenant McDowell something slightly bloody. It was a bit of skin, to which was attached three tiny feathers. "Just before he bopped me I got me hands in his scalp to see if they wuz real. They wuz, because they came hard and he howled and went madman." McDowell handed the specimen to Doc. "Examine it, Doc. One, are they real feathers? Two, is that real human skin, and three, is that human blood?" "That'll take time," said the doctor looking at the bloody bit. "Bet that hurts, though." "Hurts?" grunted McDowell. "So what?" "By which I mean that he'll be visiting a doctor or a hospital for treatment. That's no home-remedy job!" "O.K.," smiled McDowell cheerfully. "Now look, McCarthy. We'll get right on it. You've got your warrant and can prefer charges. Meanwhile there's nothing I can do here. We'll go back to the station and go to work." "How about the damages?" growled the owner. "I'm a policeman, not a civil lawyer," returned McDowell. "Take it to court when we catch our--bird." "A fine force we got," grumbled McCarthy belligerently. McDowell grunted angrily and turned to O'Leary. "He don't like us," he said. "McCarthy, have you been closing promptly at midnight on Saturday night?" demanded O'Leary. "That's a bad law to break, you know." "I've been lawful," returned the barkeep. "And I'll watch me step in the future." McDowell laughed and he and the Doc left the place. * * * * * Back at the station, reporters met them with questions. McDowell held up a hand. "Look, boys," he said with a grin, "this may be something you can print. It may also be an attempt to ridicule the force. I'll tell you this much: There was a guy apparently wearing feathers instead of hair that started a riot in McCarthy's on Boylston a little while ago. Now if you'll hold off phoning that in until we check, we'll tell you whether the guy was wearing feathers--or _growing them_! Also--whether he was human. Mind waiting?" "We'll wait," came the chorused reply. "Whatcha going to use for lead?" asked one reporter of another. "I don't know yet. It depends whether he was having a frat initiation or was really one of our fine feathered friends."