It was less than a of an hour later—such was the speed with which Nemesis, slow, had overtaken him—that Jerry Mitchell, a and walking dejectedly, from the of the Pett home and started Riverside Drive in the direction of his boarding-house, a cheap, clean, and on Ninety-seventh Street the Drive and Broadway. His was and a-quiver from the events of the afternoon, and his ears still at the of the at them by Mrs. Pett she him from the house. Moreover, he was in a mild panic at the of having to see Ann later on and try to the to her. He how the news would affect her. She had set her on Ogden to more surroundings, and she not possibly do it now that her was no longer an of the house. He was an in the scheme, and now, to the of the moment, he had himself. Long he the brown-stone house, which looked like all the other brown-stone houses in all the other side-streets of New York, the careless of his had passed from Jerry Mitchell, in its place. Ann was a girl he respectfully, but he her in her wrath.
Having entered the boarding-house, Jerry, company in his hour of sorrow, the stairs till he a door on the second floor. Sniffing and the of tobacco, he and was to enter.
"Hello, Bayliss!" he said sadly, having the call.
He sat on the end of the and a sigh.
The room which he had entered was but small, so small, indeed, that the presence of any in it at all was almost miraculous, for at it that the did not it from to side. There were however, a spots, and in these had been a wash-stand, a of drawers, and a rocking-chair. The window, which the had designed at least three too large for the room and which the air in profusion, looked out onto a series of back-yards. In boarding-houses, it is only the of the rich and that the street.
On the bed, a corn-cob pipe his teeth, Jimmy Crocker. He was and in his shirt-sleeves. There was a paper on the the bed. He to be taking his after the of a trying day.
At the of Jerry's he his head, but, the too a on the of the neck, it to the pillow.
"What's the matter, Jerry? You perturbed. You have the of one Fate has in the plexus, or of one who has been for the in Life's with a candle. What's wrong?"
"Curtains!"
Jimmy, through long from his native land, was not always able to Jerry's when in the of the which he affected.
"I you not, friend. Supply a footnotes."
"I've been fired."
Jimmy sat up. This was no trouble, no of the temperament. It was concrete, and called for sympathy.
"I'm sorry," he said. "No wonder you aren't rollicking. How did it happen?"
"That half-portion Bill Taft came me about my till it got something fierce," Jerry. "William J. Bryan couldn't have for it."
Once again Jimmy the thread. The of political him.
"What's Taft been doing to you?"
"It wasn't Taft. He only looks like him. It was that kid Ogden up where I work. He came into the gym, me about—makin' pers'nal till I of my goat, and the next thing I I was him his!" A of the of his face. "I cert'nly give him his!" The faded. "And after that—well, here I am!"
Jimmy now. He had come to the boarding-house the night of his meeting with Jerry Mitchell on Broadway, and had been there since, and with the pugilist had put him of at the Pett home. He was familiar with the of the on Riverside Drive, and how great was the of to Ogden Ford, no what the cause. Nor did he of the of Mrs. Pett one who was in her husband's private employment. Jerry had his freely.
"You appear," he said, "to have in a and manner. The only point in your which I would permit myself to is your to the kid. That, however, was due, I take it, to the that you were interrupted. We will now to the future. I cannot see that it is murky. You have a good job, but there are others, good, for a man of your calibre. New York is with who need an physical to look after them. Cheer up, Cuthbert, for the sun is still shining!"
Jerry Mitchell his head. He to be comforted.
"It's Miss Ann," he said. "What am I going to say to her?"
"What has she got to do with it?" asked Jimmy, interested.
For a moment Jerry hesitated, but the for and was too for him. And after all there was no in in a good like Jimmy.
"It's like this," he said. "Miss Ann and me had got it all up to the kid!"
"What!"
"Say, I don't ordinary kidnapping. It's this way. Miss Ann come to me and we agree that the kid's a that had ought to have some strong-arm keep him in order, so we decide to him away to a friend of mine who a dogs' hospital on Long Island. Bud Smithers is the guy to that kid. You ought to see him take of a dog that's all and and make it over into a dog that it's a to have around. I a with Bud was what the doctor ordered for Ogden, and Miss Ann I was right, so we had it all framed. And now this and up! She can't do nothing with a kid like that without me to help her. And how am I going to help her if I'm not allowed in the house?"
Jimmy was of a for a girl he had always a queen among women. How in this world did one a girl who every of mind and with a to Cain at the provocation!
"What an idea!"
Jerry at the approbation, but returned to his gloom.
"You me now? What am I to say to her? She'll be sore!"
"The problem," Jimmy had begun, "is one which, as you suggest, presents certain—" when there was a at the door and the of the boarding-house's maid-of-all-work in.
"Mr. Bayliss, is Mr. Mitchell—? Oh, say, Mr. Mitchell, there's a lady wants to see you. Says her name's Chester."
Jerry looked at Jimmy appealingly.
"What'll I do?"
"Do nothing," said Jimmy, and for his shoes. "I'll go and see her. I can for you."
"It's good of you."
"It will be a pleasure. Rely on me."
Ann, who had returned from her drive after the Ogden and had to the boarding-house, had been into the parlour. Jimmy her in a way at a of the Infant Samuel which near a bowl of fruit on the mantelpiece. She was with Fate and angry with Jerry Mitchell, and she at the of the opening door with a in her eyes, which to one of on who it was that had come in.
"Mr. Bayliss!"
"Good evening, Miss Chester. We, so to speak, meet again. I have come as an intermediary. To be brief, Jerry Mitchell daren't you, so I offered to come instead."
"But how—but why are you here?"
"I live here." He her gaze. It rested on a picture of in a field. "Late American school," he said. "Attributed to the landlady's niece, a of the Wissahickon, Pa. Correspondence School of Pictorial Art. Said to be genuine."
"You live here?" Ann. She had been up all her life among the out of decorators, and the room more to her than it actually was. "What an room!"
"Awful? You must be the piano. Can't you see the from where you are standing? Move a little to the and your eyes. We music here of an evening—when we don't see it and sidestep."
"Why in the name of do you live here, Mr. Bayliss?"
"Because, Miss Chester, I am hard up! Because the Bayliss bank-roll has been with a sickness."
Ann was looking at him incredulously.
"But—but—then, did you all that at the other day? I you were joking. I took it for that you work you wanted to or you wouldn't have fun of it like that! Can't you anything to do?"
"Plenty to do. But I'm not paid for it. I walk a great number of and jump into a great number of and into and out again and open doors and say 'Good morning' when people tell me they haven't a job for me. My days are full, but my pocket-book isn't!"
Ann had all about her in her sympathy.
"I'm so sorry. Why, it's terrible! I should have you have something."
"I the same till the of New York in a told me I couldn't. Men of views on religion, politics, and a hundred other points, they were on that. The nearest I came to being a financial Titan was when I a job in a store on Broadway, a collar-clip at ten a week. For all Nature to be 'Ten per! Ten per!' than which there are in the language. But I was half-way through the second day, and Nature her act."
"But why?"
"It wasn't my fault. Just Fate. This was called Klipstone's Kute Kollar-Klip, and it was to make it easy for you to your tie. My job was to in the window in my shirt-sleeves, my teeth and when I the old, method and on the when I used the Klip. Unfortunately I got the cards mixed. I when I the old, method and nearly myself with just after I had the card the 'I will now try Klipstone's Kute Klip.' I couldn't think what the the window was laughing at till the boss, who to pause on the of the on his way from lunch, was good to tell me. Nothing that I say would him that I was not being humorous. I was sorry to the job, though it did make me like a goldfish. But talking of being us to Jerry Mitchell."
"Oh, mind Jerry Mitchell now—"
"On the contrary, let us discuss his case and the points from it with and concentration. Jerry Mitchell has told me all!"
Ann was startled.
"What do you mean?"
"The word 'all,'" said Jimmy, "is for 'everything.' You see in me a confidant. In a word, I am hep."
"You know—?"
"Everything. A colloquialism," Jimmy, "for 'all.' About Ogden, you know. The scheme. The plot. The enterprise."
Ann nothing to say.
"I am in of the plan. So much so that I to you by taking Jerry's place."
"I don't understand."
"Do you at that day, after that person had me for Jimmy Crocker, you in a light, way that if I were to walk into your uncle's office and to be Jimmy Crocker I should be without a question? I'm going to do it. Then, once the lugger—once in the house, I am at your orders. Use me as you would have used Jerry Mitchell."
"But—but—!"
"Jerry!" said Jimmy scornfully. "Can't I do that he have done? And more. A like Jerry would have been to have the thing somehow. I know him well. A good fellow, but in and from the up. It's a very lucky thing he is out of the running. I love him like a brother, but his is of ivory. This job a man of tact, sense, shrewdness, initiative, esprit, and verve." He paused. "Me!" he concluded.
"But it's ridiculous! It's out of the question!"
"Not at all. I must be like Jimmy Crocker, or that at the restaurant wouldn't have taken me for him. Leave this in my hands. I can away with it."
"I shan't of you—"
"At nine o'clock to-morrow morning," said Jimmy firmly, "I present myself at Mr. Pett's office. It's all settled."
Ann was silent. She was to her mind to the idea. Her from it had to wane. It was an idea to her temperament, an idea that she might have herself if she had of it. Soon, from being disapproving, she herself with for its author. He was a man of her own sort!
"You asked me on the boat, if you remember," said Jimmy, "if I had an soul. I am now my proofs. You also spoke of America as a land where there were to be had. I now see that you were right."
Ann for a moment.
"If I to your doing this thing, Mr. Bayliss, will you promise me something?"
"Anything."
"Well, in the place I to let you all of by into this plot." She him down, and on. "But I see where you can help me very much. As I told you at lunch, my aunt would do anything for Jimmy Crocker if he were to appear in New York now. I want you to promise that you will your to her to let Jerry Mitchell come back."
"Never!"
"You said you would promise me anything."
"Anything but that."
"Then it is all off!"
Jimmy pondered.
"It's that way."
"Never mind. It's the only way I will consider."
"Very well. I protest, though."
Ann sat down.
"I think you're splendid, Mr. Bayliss. I'm much obliged!"
"Not at all."
"It will be such a thing for Ogden, won't it?"
"Admirable."
"Now the only thing to do is just to see that we have got straight. How about this, for instance? They will ask you when you in New York. How are you going to account for your in to see them?"
"I've of that. There's a that to-morrow—the Caronia, I think. I've got a paper upstairs. I'll look it up. I can say I came by her."
"That all right. It's lucky you and uncle Peter met on the Atlantic."
"And now as to my on entering the home? How should I behave? Should I be or humble? What would a long-lost nephew naturally do?"
"A long-lost nephew with a record like Jimmy Crocker's would in with a white flag, I should think."
A in the hall.
"Supper!" said Jimmy. "To go into painful details, New England dinner, or my me, and prunes."
"I must be going."
"We shall meet at Philippi."
He saw her to the door, and at the top of the steps her into the dusk. She passed from his sight. Jimmy a breath, and, hard, the passage to himself with supper.
