The Washington times., 1913-06-08
COULD He F|GHT?!
QUIZ QUIZ VRA|MENT!
The Little Frenchman, He Is
One Regiment When Insult.
Saloon Is Wrecked.

NEW YORK, June S.-Michael Cur
ran. proprietor of a saloon at Twenty
ninth street and Sixth avenue. beamed
happily on a dozen steady customers.
Business was fine. The tiny silver bells
on the twin cash registers tinkled sweet
harmony to Currans trained ears. For
the last two hours now they had been
ringing at the rate of twelve every
minute.
The swinging doors flew open and in
breezed dapper young man. He was
faultless as to style. his hair was drawn
back from his brow in a marcel wave,
and from his breast pocket protruded
the edge Of a gayly colored silken hand
kerchief. Fawn colored spats protected
his silken clad ankles.
Dennis O'Callaghan, peering from be-
hind the rim of his tenth. fiirted daint-
lily with the Cow lick on his forehead.
Curran said nothing. Giuseppe Dom
aldo, wiping his mustache, rolled his
eyes to the ceiling and fiicked a bit Of
dust from his grimy sleeve with a
delicately poised finger. Curran said
nothing
Phone Not Built for French.
The young man advanced daintily to-
ward a telephone slot machine, opened
the door of the booth and seated him.
self primly on the stool. In a high
soprano he said: "Donnex moi nombre
62s4 Bryant, silvous plait.''
The twelve good men and true turned
their backs to twelve half emptied
glasses and faced the telephone booth.
but Michael Curran said nothing. Again
did the sartorial picture i'm the booth
repeat what he had said before.
.'Click-click-g-r-r-r said the
telephone mechanism. and nickel
tumbled into the slot in the box.
good will of this scene began to be dis
turbed. The young man regarded his
nickel for silent moment, and began
operations One stalwart pull and the
receiver was ripped from its fastenings.
crashed to the floor. A shift with his
right foot and the door of the booth
flew across the room.
"Zut! Cochon, i am insultr' ejacu-
lated the citizen of France.
"Aux Armes, Citoyens!"
Curran moved with slow majesty
from behind the bar. wiping his
hands as he advanced against the
legions of France. Then Curran said
Cit out o. here, young
feller, before / throw you out and
don't wait to say your fare ye wells"
AS Curran laid a ponderous hand on
the young mans shoulder and started
him toward the door the habitue of
the gay boulevards seemed to have
become connected with a galvanic
battery. Arms and legs moved quick
" and with excellent effect. His right
fist found Curran's jaw and his left
foot found a resting place back of
Currans left ear. Curran hit the
floor.
Three of Curran's best customers
fell on the Frenchman. The best ef-
forts of a crowd of Kilkenny cats
would have looked like a summer
evening at the old home compared to
what happened in the next two min
utes When the finale came the
Frenchman sauntered through the
doorway, first lifting one swinging
door from it's hinges with a kick a
PatroIman Green came next in the
path of the French tornado. In a min
nte he was chewing the asphalt, one
ear ON the ground. Three more patrol
men Jumped into the fray. and after
more explosions. carried the Napoleonic
regiment bodily into the station house.
There he told Lieutenant Mulligan his
name was Jean Michel. OF 8 East For
ty-fourth street. Disorderly conduct
was the charge against him, but that
didn't half satisfy Curran.
A half hour later, after Michel had
tried to hang himself in his cell, he
was taken to the psycOpathic ward in
Bellevue Hospital.
Let the doctors take care OF him."
said Lieutenant Mulligan. I'VE don't
want him."