Without further question, Sam proceeded on his way to Simm's office. That Giuseppe was not the man Sam was after, appeared certain, but that he was well acquainted with the fellow, there seemed no doubt. Giuseppe must be watched, for he would find Golda to get the medal back, as it was evident Giuseppe treasured it as an heirloom. While deeply engrossed on this line of thought, Sam was starting down Third street on his way to Detective Simms' office, and had nearly reached Alder street when his reverie was interrupted by a familiar voice, exclaiming, "Good marnin', sor!" "How are you?" responded Sam, recognizing Smith. "Sure, I'm failin' foine, axcipt"--and a wistful look came into his eyes--"axcipt for a sore spot in me heart. God shield her!" and he bent his head reverently. Sam knew full well the object of Smith's allusion, and said sympathetically, "You share in the sorrow of your house?" "Indade: I do, sor! Tin years ave I known her swate disposition. Sure, didn't I drive her coach to the church whin she married him? And she was kind to my poor wife, too, whin she suffered betimes wid brankites. God rest her soule! She's wid the angels now! But I see yeese do be hurted!" "A bruise! An accident last night, but it's nothing, I guess! Are you out for a bracer this morning?" "Just a little sthrole, wid me eye open for signs." "Signs of what?" "Oh, the dinsity of the cratchur! Sure, I do be always lookin' fer the little wan." "Why don't you search the river?" suggested Sam significantly; "her mother says she is drowned." "Yis! Poor woman! And she belaives it, too, so she do. But says I to myself, says I, some blackguard thaif has sthole the little sunbeam of her heart, which do be nearly broken entirely, so it do!" and Smith turned his head away to hide the tears that came unbidden to his eyes. "Do you think so?" "I do." "Do you?" "I do, by me faith, I do, and ave I could lay me hands on the wan who is raysponsible fer it, sure there'd be somethin' doin'!" Sam had slim faith in George Golda calling at the police station to claim the medal, but he believed it possible to locate him by diligent and discreet inquiry. With that idea he beckoned Smith into a lobby of an adjacent building, which at that early hour was untenanted, and produced the medal from his vest pocket. Handing it to Smith, he said guardedly, "I found it in the City Park this morning." "Sure I can't rade Frinch at all, at all!" said Smith, examining the bronze. "It's a Garibaldi medal. I can trust you with it?" "Phwat d'yees mane?" Smith responded with a snap. "This," and Sam added confidentially in a low voice, "circulate among the shanties and scow dwellers below the North Pacific mill. Show the medal, prudently, mind, but never let it pass out of your hands." "I want!" responded Smith, thrusting it in his inside coat pocket. "Be it raysponsible for yees hurt?"