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G.—Yes, because he kept asking me and telling me that he thought I ought to have a medal.

R.—Well, I want your name, too, for the News.

G.—No; I don't want my name in the newspaper for I didn't do anything.

R.—But I must tell how you stopped the train in writing about how the man was hurt.

G.—All right; my name is Annie Hagan.

R.—Where do you live?

G.—At 916 East Watson Avenue.

R.—Have you been working here long?

G.—No; I just started last week. I quit school and got this job here.

R.—You didn't hear any one say who the old man was?

G.—No; I guess he was alone.

R.—Did the doctor say how badly he was hurt?

G.—No; he felt his pulse, and listened to his heart, and said he was alive all right.

R.—Thanks; I'll go over to St. Mary's and see how he is getting along.

On reaching the hospital, which is only two blocks from the subway station, the reporter asks for the superintendent, with whom he carries on the following conversation:

R.—I want to find out about the old man who fell off the platform in the 65th Street subway station an hour and a half ago. How badly was he hurt?

S.—What was his name?

R.—I don't know.

S.—I'll look up the record. Here it is. He died at 1:15. His skull was fractured, and he died of a cerebral hemorrhage.

R.—Did they find out who he was?

S.—No; this card is the only clue we have.

R.—May I see it?

It is a business card of the Blair Photographic Studio, 712 Broadway, on the back of which is written in pencil the words, "Oliver, Ithaca." To save time, the reporter telephones from the office of the hospital to the