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They entered the store where the marks of the departed store fixtures were visible along the walls and Schmitt's old counter stood against one side. Piles of Red Cross literature now lay upon it. "If I hadn't joined the Red Cross already, I'd join now," said Tom, apologetically, displaying his button. "A girl in our office got me to join." "Wasn't she mean," said Mary.
Then there was signaling between the Montauk and her own neighbor destroyer about sailing formation in the danger zone. It was almost like A B C to Tom, but he remembered Mr. Conne's good advice and resolved not to concern himself with matters outside his own little sphere of duty. But a few days later he made a discovery which turned his thoughts again to Adolf Schmitt's cellar and to spies.
"But but," sputtered the keen-eyed little Irishman, "'Tis not Charlie at all! 'Tis but an effigy dressed in Charlie's clothes and hung at the Widow Schmitt's gate." "As a warnin' to him frae some mutton-head lover of hers." They ran as one man across the road to Charlie's cabin. It was empty. "He was callin' 'Help'," said the round-eyed boy. "Yes, we heard him," added the sheriff.
Jimmie Greeley was raking in a jackpot, grinning fiendishly at the dour Jim Hutch when they heard heavy, running feet outside. The door crashed open and a frightened, half-grown lad shouted: "Where's the sheriff? Charlie Price has been hung!" "What!" "On a tree near the Widow Schmitt's. I saw him. I know well the sailor coat that he wears and his best red-topped boots. Where's the sheriff?"
"Three years back, sah, frum Habana to der African coast; Ah didn't want no more dat sorter sailorin'." "But what could have happened? The boats are all in place, but no crew, I never saw anything like it at sea." Schmitt's hand fell heavily on my sleeve and I glanced aside into his stolid face. "Der's a feller on ther gratin' amidships, Captain," he said pointing aft.
'Cause Adolf Schmitt's most to blame. It ain't it ain't 'cause I want to get let off free either, it ain't. I wouldn't care so much now what they did to me, anyway. 'Cause everything is kind of spoiled now about all of us our family being so kind of patriotic " His brother, goaded out of his sullenness, turned upon him with a tirade of profane abuse, leaving the boy shamed and silent.
"Maybe we deserved to get licked," said Tom. "Anyway I did." "Yer right, ye did," agreed Pete. "My brother was better than I was. It made me mad when I saw him get licked. I could feel it way down in my fingers, kind of the madness. That's why he went to live at Schmitt's after my father got so he couldn't work much. They always had lots to eat at Schmitt's.
Tell me the whole thing, Tom." And so, sitting there with this shrewd man who had befriended him, Tom told the whole story as he could not have told it to anyone else. He went away back into the old Barrel Alley days, when he had "swiped" apples from Adolf Schmitt and his brother Bill had worked in Schmitt's grocery store.
Nor has it been my luck to be present during the production of "Lysistrata," by Aristophanes, or "Bastien et Bastienne," by W. A. Mozart, or "Orpheus," by Monteverde, or "Maestro di Capella," by Pergolese, or "Timon of Athens," by Purcell. Nor have I been present when an eminent technician has rendered Florent Schmitt's "Palais Hanté," or Arnold Schoenberg's "Pierrot Lunaire."
Now Greeley had a fear of what the dour old Scotchman might tell upon him. It would not pay to lose his Celtic temper. "It was to church I was goin'." he growled. "'Twas why I was wearin' me red-topped high boots." "Where was church that day, whatever? At the Widow Schmitt's?" Jimmie squirmed. "You mentioned the beautiful spring, I mind," he countered deftly. Suddenly Jim Hutch grinned.
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