im. He applies his brain to crime,
d'ye mind, an' divvle th' crime, no matther how cunnin' it is,
will escape him. We'll suppose, Hinnissy, that I'm Sherlock Holmes.
I'm settin' here in me little parlor wearin' a dhressin' gown an'
now an' thin pokin' mesilf full iv morpheen. Here we are. Ye come
in. 'Good-mornin', Watson.'"

"I ain't Watson," said Mr. Hennessy. "I'm Hinnissy."

"Ah," said Mr. Dooley; "I thought I'd wring it fr'm ye. Perhaps
ye'd like to know how I guessed ye had come in. 'Tis very simple.
On'y a matther iv observation. I heerd ye'er step; I seen ye'er
refliction in th' lookin' glass; ye spoke to me. I put these
things together with me thrained faculty f'r observation an'
deduction, d'ye mind. Says I to mesilf: 'This must be Hinnissy.'
But mind ye, th' chain iv circumstances is not complete. It might
be some wan disguised as ye. So says I to mesilf: 'I will throw
this newcome, whoiver he is, off his guard, be callin' him be a
sthrange name!' Ye wudden't feel complimented, Hinnissy, if ye
knew who Watson is. Watson knows even less than ye do. He don't
know annything, an' annything he knows is wrong. He has to look
up his name in th' parish raygisther befure he can speak to himsilf.
He's a gr-reat frind iv Sherlock Holmes an' if Sherlock Holmes
iver loses him, he'll find him in th' nearest asylum f'r th'
feeble-minded. But I surprised ye'er secret out iv ye. Thrown
off ye'er guard be me innocent question, ye popped out 'I'm
Hinnissy,' an' in a flash I guessed who ye were. Be th' same
process iv raisonin' be deduction, I can tell ye that ye were home
las' night in bed, that ye're on ye'er way to wurruk, an' that
ye'er salary is two dollars a day. I know ye were at home las'
night because ye ar-re always at home between iliven an' sivin,
bar Pathrick's night, an' ye'er wife hasn't been in lookin' f'r
ye. I know ye're on ye'er way to wurruk because I heerd ye'er
dinner pail jingle as ye stepped softly in. I know ye get two
dollars a day because ye tol' me ye get three an' I deducted
thirty-three an' wan third per cint f'r poetic license. 'Tis very
simple. Ar-re those shoes ye have on ye'er feet? Be hivins, I
thought so."

"Simple," said Mr. Hennessy, scornfully; "'tis foolish."

"Niver mind," said Mr. Dooley. "Pass th' dope, Watson. Now bein'
full iv th' cillybrated Chow Sooey brand, I addhress me keen mind
to th' discussion iv th' case iv Dorsey's dog. Watson, look out
iv t