Jack Sharkey

Gettin’ so’s a man can’t do a good deed ‘thout steppin’ on someone’s toes,” said Klaber, with a wry one-sided twist of his mouth that nearly passed for a grin. Hoxie tried a shrug again and failed. “Gov’ment’s got good-deed-doin’ sewed up tighter’n a drum,” he agreed. “You wanna tell me just what it was you did t’ Miss Perkle?” “Fixed her,” said Klaber. “That’s all. No different than if I’d found her hobblin’ around with a nail in her foot and pulled it out. That don’t bust no law.” “No,” Hoxie admitted. “That don’t. But this is more medical.” “Who says so?” demanded Klaber, with a stubborn outthrust of his lower lip. “I can’t see the difference.” “A nail in the foot is a nail in the foot,” said Hoxie. “And cancer is cancer.” “Phooey,” said Klaber, “Same thing, to my mind. Person gets a foreign body in ’em, causin’ discomfort, and you take it out. Can’t see any difference at all, nohow.” “There are certain medical-type ways of doin’ things,” said Hoxie. “You didn’t use even an accepted method, we hear tell. And that’s bad.” “You ain’t serious!” said Klaber, aghast. “You can’t be serious ! You mean t’tell me the medical profession can get a guy in bad for the law on both them counts? How can a guy infringe their territory enough to get called on practicin’ medicine without a license if the guy also gets called on for not doin’ what they do anyways?

New York’s a pretty big town. You might take a wrong turn and get lost.” “You know,” she’d said sweetly, “you might take a hint and do the same.