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His left ear was firmly grasped between the stranger's finger and thumb. The tough person released Pugsy, and, having eyed Smith keenly for a moment, made a dash for the stairs, leaving the guardian of the gate rubbing his ear resentfully. "He blows in," said Master Maloney, aggrieved, "an' asks is de editor in. I tells him no, an' he nips me by the ear when I tries to stop him buttin' t'roo."
"Late, ain't they?" "Sure. Mr. Windsor generally blows in before I do." "Wonder what's keepin' them." "P'raps, dey've bin put out of business," suggested Pugsy nonchalantly. "How's that?" Pugsy related the events of the previous day, relaxing something of his austere calm as he did so.
"You're to de good." "And now," she went on, "I must give these babies back to their mothers, and then I'll come with you." She lowered herself through the trap, and John handed the children down to her. Pugsy looked on, smoking a thoughtful cigarette. John drew a deep breath. Pugsy, removing the cigarette from his mouth, delivered himself of a stately word of praise. "She's a boid," he said.
Some of them you wouldn't believe I don't think they could ever have had a real bath in their lives." "Baths is foolishness," commented Master Maloney austerely, eying the scoured infants with a touch of disfavor. John was reminded of a second mystery that needed solution. "How on earth did you get up here, Pugsy?" he asked. "How did you get past Sam?" "Sam? I didn't see no Sam. Who's Sam?"
Dey don't know enough to go upstairs to take de Elevated. Beat it, you mutt," he observed with moody displeasure to the wop kid, accompanying the words with a gesture which conveyed its own meaning. The wop kid, plainly glad to get away, slipped out of the door like a shadow. Pugsy shrugged his shoulders. "Gents," he said resignedly, "it's up to youse."
"Well, tell him I've got the cat, and that if he wants it he'd better come round to my place. You know where I live?" "Sure." "Fancy you being a cousin of Bat's, Pugsy. Why did you never tell us? Are you going to join the gang some day?" "Nope. Nothin' doin'. I'm goin' to be a cow-boy." "Good for you. Well, you tell him when you see him.
He strolled slowly out, while Billy Windsor, mounting a chair, proceeded to chirrup and snap his fingers in the effort to establish the foundations of an entente cordiale with the rescued cat. By the time that Pugsy returned, carrying a five-cent bottle of milk, the animal had vacated the book-shelf, and was sitting on the table, washing her face.
Proof that his shot had not missed its mark was supplied to John immediately upon his arrival at the office on the following morning, when he was met by Pugsy Maloney with the information that a gentleman had called to see him. "With or without a black-jack?" enquired John. "Did he give any name?" "Sure. Parker's his name. He blew in oncst before when Mr. Smith was here.
When they returned from lunch, and reentered the outer office, Pugsy Maloney, raising his eyes for a moment from his book, met them with the information that another caller had arrived and was waiting in the inner room. "Dere's a guy in dere waitin' to see youse," he said, jerking his head towards the door. "Yet another guy? This is our busy day. Did he give a name?"
"This," said John, deeply interested, "is getting exciting. Don't give in, Pugsy. I guess the trouble is that your too perfect Italian accent is making the kid homesick." Master Maloney made a gesture of disgust. "I'm t'roo. Dese Dagoes makes me tired. Dey don't know enough to go upstairs to take de elevated.
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