★ 13 ★::A Gentleman of Leisure
Spike’s Views
Nevertheless, it was in a very of mind that he for dinner. It to him that he had from a of stupor. Life, so yesterday, now appeared full of colour and possibilities. Most men who, either from choice or necessity, have about the world for any length of time are more or less fatalists. Jimmy was an fatalist. He had always looked on not as a at of gifts good and bad, but as a being with a in his favour. He had almost a Napoleonic in his star. At of his life—notably at the time when, as he had told Lord Dreever, he had on birdseed—he had been in tight corners, but his luck had always him. It him that it would be an piece of on Fate’s part to see him through so much and then to him just as he had in of what was by the biggest thing of his life. Of course, his view of what the biggest thing in life had with the years. Every of the Hill of Supreme Moments in turn had been by him for the summit; but this last, he instinctively, was genuine. For good or bad, Molly was into the of his life. In the period of the early he had the same of other girls, who were now memories as as those of in a half-forgotten play. In their case his had been painful, but brief. Force of will and an active life had the cure. He had himself up and them from his mind. A week or two of emptiness, and his had been once more in readiness—all and done up—for the next lodger.
But in the case of Molly it was different. He had passed the age of susceptibility. Like a who had been by previous tenants, he had wary. He his powers of in case of disaster. The will in these matters, just like the “bouncer”, past his work. For some years now Jimmy had had a that the next 83arrival would come to stay, and he had adopted, in consequence, a the other sex. Molly had through this, and he saw that his of his had been just. Methods which had proved excellent in the past were now. There was no here of that dimly-consoling of years that there were other girls in the world. He did not try to himself. He that he had passed the age when a man can in love with any one of a number of types.
This was the finish, one way or the other. There was no second throw. She had him. However it might end, he to her.
There are moments in a man’s day when his brain is more than that space when he is his to shaving. Flying the brush, Jimmy the situation. He was a little too optimistic. Not he was to look upon his luck as a of special train which would him without to Paradise. Fate had so up till now. By a series of the most it had him to the point of being Molly’s fellow-guest at a country-house. This, as Reason pointed out a moments later, was the beginning; but to Jimmy, lathering, it the end. It was only when he had and was his tie that he to that there were in his way—and big at that.
In the place, Molly did not love him. And, he was to admit, there was no why she should. A man in love is about his personal attractions. Also, her father him to be a master-burglar.
“Otherwise,” said Jimmy, at his in the glass, “everything’s splendid.”
He his sadly.
There was a at the door.
“Halloa?” said Jimmy. “Yes?”
The door opened slowly. A grin, by a of red hair, appeared the of it.
“Halloa, Spike! Come in. What’s the matter?”
The of Mr. Mullins entered the room.
“Gee, boss, I wasn’t sure was your room. Say, who do you t’ink I nearly me against out in de downstairs? Why, old man McEachern, de cop. Dat’s right!”
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“Yes?”
“Sure. Say, what’s he doin’ on beat? I near and out when I him. Dat’s right. Me ain’t got home yet.”
“Did he you?”
“Did he! He like an actor on top de when he sees he’s up against de plot to him, an’ he me de eye.”
“Well?”
“I was was I on Third Avenue, or was I on me coco, or what was I doin’ anyhow. Den I off and up here. Say, boss, what’s de game? What’s old man McEachern doin’ for?”
“It’s all right, Spike. Keep calm. I can explain. He has retired—like me. He’s one of the guests here.”
“On your way, boss! What’s dat?”
“He left the Force just after that meeting of ours when you with the bulldog. He came over here and into society. So here we are again, all together under the same roof, like a little family party.”
Spike’s open mouth to his amazement.
“Den——” he stammered.
“Yes?”
“Den what’s he goin’ to do?”
“I couldn’t say. I’m to shortly. But we needn’t worry ourselves. The next move’s with him. If he wants to on the he won’t be backward. He’ll come and do it.”
“Sure. It’s up to him,” Spike.
“I’m comfortable. Speaking for myself, I’m having a good time. How are you along downstairs?”
“De limit, boss. Honest, it’s to de velvet. Dere’s old gazebo, de butler, Saunders his name is, dat’s de best at out long woids. I and listens. Dey calls me Mr. Mullins dere,” said Spike with pride.
“Good. I’m you’re all right. There’s no why we shouldn’t have an excellent time here. I don’t think that Mr. McEachern will try to have us out, after he’s one or two little I have to say to him—just a of the past which may him. I have the for Mr. McEachern—I wish it was mutual—but nothing he can say is going to make me from here.”
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“Not on your life,” Spike. “Say, boss, he must have got a of to be able to in here. And I know how he got dem, too. Dat’s right. I comes from little old New York meself.”
“Hush, Spike; this is scandal!”
“Sure!” said the Bowery boy, doggedly, safely started now on his subject. “I knows, and knows, boss. Gee! I wish I’d a cop. But I wasn’t tall enough. Dey’s de de big bank-rolls! Look at old McEachern. Money to a wet dog he’s got, and a of for it from de start to de finish. An’ look at me, boss.”
“I do, Spike; I do.”
“Look at me. Getting all de year round, to de band——”
“In oft,” said Jimmy.
“Sure t’ing. And all roun’ de town. And what? Why, to de at de end of it all. Say, it’s to make a feller——”
“Turn honest!” said Jimmy. “That’s it, Spike—reform. You’ll be some day.”
Spike to be doubtful. He was for a moment; then, as if up a train of thought, he said:
“Boss, is a big house.”
“I’ve worse.”
“Say, couldn’t we——?”
“Spike!” said Jimmy warningly.
“Well, couldn’t we?” said Spike doggedly. “It ain’t often into a easy like one. We shouldn’t have to do a t’ing excep’ busy. De stuff’s just about, boss.”
“I shouldn’t wonder.”
“Aw, it’s a waste to it.”
“Spike,” said Jimmy. “I you of this. I you to be on your guard, to against your professional instincts. Be a man! Crush them. Try to your mind. Collect butterflies.”
Spike in silence.
“’Member you from de Duchess?” he said, musingly.
“The dear Duchess!” Jimmy. “Ah, me!”
“And de bank you busted?”
“Those were happy days, Spike.”
“Gee!” said the Bowery boy.
He paused. “Dat was to de good,” he said wistfully.
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Jimmy his tie at the mirror.
“Dere’s a here,” Spike, the of drawers, “dat’s got a necklace of what’s a hundred t’ousand plunks. Honest, boss—a hundred t’ousand plunks. Saunders told me that—de old hands out de long woids. I says to him ‘Gee!’ and he says, ‘Surest t’ing you know.’ A hundred t’ousand plunks!”
“So I understand,” said Jimmy.
“Shall I around and out where is kept, boss?”
“Spike,” said Jimmy, “ask me no more. All this is in direct of our our off the spoons. You pain me. Desist.”
“Sorry, boss. But dey’ll be willy-wonders, jools. A hundred t’ousand plunks! Dat’s going some, ain’t it? What’s side?”
“Twenty thousand pounds.”
“Gee! Can I help you de duds, boss?”
“No, thanks, Spike. I’m through now. You might just give me a down, though. No, not that. That’s a hair-brush. Try the big black one.”
“Dis is a of a suit,” Spike, in his labours.
“Glad you like it, Spike. Rather chic, I think.”
“It’s de limit. Excuse me, how much did it set you back, boss?”
“Something like twelve guineas, I believe. I look up the bill and let you know.”
“What’s dat—guineas? Is that more a pound?”
“A more. Why these higher mathematics?”
Spike his brushing.
“What a of get,” he meditatively, “if you had jools.” He animated. He the clothes-brush. “Oh, you boss!” he cried. “What’s eatin’ you? Aw, it’s a not to. Come along, you boss. Say, what’s doin’? Why ain’t you sittin’ in at de game? Oh, you boss!”
Whatever reply Jimmy might have to this was by a on the door. Almost the turned.
“Gee!” Spike. “It’s de cop.”
Jimmy pleasantly.
“Come in, Mr. McEachern,” he said, “come in. Journeys end in lovers meeting. You know my friend Mr. Mullins, I think? Shut the door and down, and let’s talk of many things.”
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