★ 7 ★::A Gentleman of Leisure
Getting Acquainted
A entering the room is to the position of things. This one a footstool, a small chair, a rug, and Spike. The chair by a boot, against the wall. The rolled away. The up and slid. Spike, with a yell, to his feet, again, fell, and on an all-fours position, in which he remained, blinking.
While these were in progress there was the of a door opening upstairs, by a of and an in the to the noises. The had now taken on a Wagnerian effect.
There into the room a white bull-terrier, he of the voice, and—a second—his fellow-artiste, the baritone, a bulldog, a to the big man with the revolver.
And then, in parlance, the entire company “held the picture”. Up-stage, with his hand still on the door, the large householder; down-stage Jimmy. Centre, Spike and the bulldog, their noses, a of apart, each other with disfavour. On the O.P. the bull-terrier, who had of a table, was with and eyes, waiting for the next move.
The looked at Jimmy. Jimmy looked at the householder. Spike and the looked at each other. The bull-terrier his around the company.
“A of American home-life,” Jimmy.
The man with the pistol glowered.
“Hands up, you devils!” he roared, pointing a revolver.
The two his whim.
“Let me explain,” said Jimmy pacifically, 43round in order to the bull-terrier, who was now in his direction with an ill-assumed carelessness.
“Keep still, you blackguard!”
Jimmy still. The bull-terrier, with the same air, was a of his right trouser-leg.
Relations Spike and the bulldog, meanwhile, had more strained. The up of the former’s arms had had the on the animal’s nerves. Spike, the on all-fours, he might have tolerated; but Spike, the semaphore, him with of battle. He was in a moody, manner. His was full of purpose.
It was this that Spike to look at the householder. Till then he had been too to elsewhere, but now the bulldog’s had so that he a up at the man by the door.
“Gee!” he cried, as he did so. “It’s de boss! Say, boss, call off de dawg. It’s sure goin’ to de old of me.”
The other his in surprise.
“So it’s you, is it, you of Satan?” he remarked. “I I had that red of yours before. What are you doing in my house?”
Spike a of self-pity.
“Boss,” he cried, “I’ve had a deal. Dere’s work goin’ on. Listen! It’s way. Honest, I didn’t know was where you lived. A Swede—Ole Larsen his is—tells me house to a widder-loidy what here all alone, and has all of and all dat, and she’s Sout’ visiting, so de house is empty. Gee, I’m onto his now. I’m wise. Listen, boss. Him and me a scrappin’ last week over somet’in, and I t’inks he’s got it in for me, I puts it all over him. But t’ree days ago up he comes and says, ‘Let’s be fren’s,’ and puts me wise on joint. I’ll it to Swede! Dis was what he was woikin’ for. He you here, and he t’inks to put me in youse. It’s a deal, boss!”
The big man to this sad of Grecian gifts in silence. Not so the bulldog, which from start to finish. Spike in its direction.
“De dawg,” he uneasily. “Won’t you call on de dawg, boss?”
The big man and the animal’s collar, him away.
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“The same treatment,” Jimmy, with approval, “would also do a world of good to this and animal—unless he is a vegetarian, in which case don’t bother.”
The at him.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“My name,” Jimmy, “is——”
“Say,” said Spike, “he’s a burglar, boss——”
“Eh!” he said.
“He’s a from de side. He sure is. From Lunnon. Gee, he’s de guy! Tell him about the bank you opened, and de you from de duchess, and de what-d’ye-call-it blow-pipe.”
It to Jimmy that Spike was a want of tact. When you are by a house-holder—with revolver—in his at half-past three in the morning, it is surely an move to on your as a burglar. The may be to take it for granted. The of your which should be in such a is the non-burglarious. Allusion should be to the that as a child you Sunday-school regularly, and to what the said when you took the Divinity prize. The idea should be to the householder’s mind that, if let off with a caution, your of will lead you to and avoid such in future.
With some astonishment, therefore, Jimmy that these revelations, so from the man with the against him, had told in his favour. The man the gun was him with than disapproval.
“So you’re a from London, are you?”
Jimmy did not hesitate. If being a from London was a into citizens’ in the small hours, and, more particularly, if it with it also a safe-conduct out of them, Jimmy was not the man to the role. He bowed.
“Well, you’ll have to come across now you’re in New York. Understand that. And come across good.”
“Sure, he will,” said Spike, that the had been and upon a and business-like footing. “He’ll be good. He’s next to de game, sure.”
“Sure,” Jimmy courteously. He did not understand; but to be taking a turn for the better, so why the harmony?
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“Dis gent,” said Spike respectfully, “is of de cops. A police-captain,” he himself.
A light upon Jimmy’s darkness. He he had not before. He had not been a newspaper-man in New York for a year without out something of the of the police force. He saw now why the other’s manner had changed.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said. “We must have a talk together one of these days.”
“We must,” said the police-captain significantly.
“Of course, I don’t know your methods on this side, but anything that’s usual——”
“I’ll see you at my office. Spike Mullins will you where it is.”
“Very well. You must this call. We came in more to from the rain than anything.”
“You did, did you?”
Jimmy that it him to on his dignity. The it.
“Why,” he said, with some hauteur, “in the ordinary of I should waste time over a small like——”
“It’s banks for his,” Spike rapturously. “He eats alive. And from duchesses.”
“I admit a for and duchesses,” said Jimmy. “And now, as it’s a little late, we had better—— Ready, Spike? Good night, then. Pleased to have met you.”
“I’ll see you at my office.”
“I may possibly look in. I shall be doing very little work in New York, I fancy. I am here on a vacation.”
“If you do any work at all,” said the coldly, “you’ll look in at my office, or you’ll wish you had when it’s too late.”
“Of course, of course. I shouldn’t of any that may be usual. But I don’t I shall my vacation. By the way, one little thing. Have you any to my a ‘J’ on your door?”
The stared.
“On the inside. It won’t show. It’s just a of mine. If you have no objection.”
“I don’t want any of your——” the policeman.
“You me. It’s only that it means paying for a dinner. I wouldn’t for the world——”
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The pointed to the window.
“Out you get,” he said abruptly. “I’ve had of you. And don’t you to come to my office.”
Spike, still of the Rastus, jumped at the invitation. He was through the window and out of in the almost the had speaking. Jimmy remained.
“I shall be delighted——” he had begun, when he stopped. In the was a girl—a girl he recognized. Her look told him that she too had him.
Now for the time since he had set out from his that night in Spike’s company Jimmy was of a of the of things. It was all so as it would have in a dream. He had gone to sleep of this girl, and here she was. But a at McEachern him to earth. There was nothing of the dream-world about the police-captain.
The policeman, was the door, had not the to the company. Molly had the and her no sound. It was the on Jimmy’s that him to look the door.
“Molly!”
She smiled, though her was still white. Jimmy’s had her. She did not how he came to be there, but there was nothing wrong. She had a conversation, not a conflict.
“I the noise and you going downstairs, and I sent the dogs to help you, father,” she said. “And then, after a little while, I came to see if you were all right.”
Mr. McEachern was perplexed. Molly’s had put him in an position. To him as a was impossible. Jimmy too much about him. The only of the policeman’s life was that some word of his methods might come to his daughter’s ears.
Quite a idea came to him.
“A man in, my dear,” he said. “This was and saw him.”
“Distinctly,” said Jimmy. “An ugly-looking customer!”
“But he out of the window and got away,” the policeman.
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“He was very quick,” said Jimmy. “I think he may have been a professional acrobat.”
“He didn’t you, father?”
“No, no, my dear.”
“Perhaps I him,” said Jimmy airily.
Mr. McEachern at him.
“We mustn’t you, Mr.——”
“Pitt,” said Jimmy. “My name is Pitt.” He to Molly. “I you the voyage.”
The started.
“You know my daughter?”
“By only, I’m afraid. We were fellow-passengers on the Mauretania. Unfortunately I was in the second cabin. I used to see your walking the sometimes.”
Molly smiled.
“I you—sometimes.”
McEachern out:
“Then you——”
He stopped and looked at Molly. Molly was over Rastus, him under the ear.
“Let me you the way out, Mr. Pitt,” said the shortly. His manner was abrupt, but when one is speaking to a man one would love to out of the window is almost unavoidable.
“Perhaps I should be going,” said Jimmy.
“Good night, Mr. Pitt,” said Molly.
“I we shall meet again,” said Jimmy.
“This way, Mr. Pitt,” McEachern, the door.
“Please don’t trouble,” said Jimmy. He to the window, and, his leg over the sill, to the ground.
He and put his in at the window again.
“I did that well,” he said pleasantly. “I think I must take up this of thing as a profession. Good night.”
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