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You're going out on the old trail again which begins in Third Avenue and ends in Sing Sing. Why tear yourself away, Spike?" Spike concentrated his gaze on a weedy young emigrant in a blue jersey, who was having his eye examined by the overworked doctor, and seemed to be resenting it. "Dere's nuttin' doin' dis side, Mr. Chames," he said, at length. "I want to get busy."
"Well, any news? Keggs all right? How are you getting on?" "Mr. Chames." Spike sank his voice to a whisper. "Dat's what I chased meself here about. Dere's a mug down in de soivant's hall what's a detective. Yes, dat's right, if I ever saw one." "What makes you think so?" "On your way, Mr. Chames! Can't I tell? I could pick out a fly cop out of a bunch of a thousand. Sure.
He had met Spike Mullins for the first time in rather curious circumstances in New York, and for four years the other had followed him with a fidelity which no dangers or hardships could affect. Whatever "Mr. Chames" did, said, or thought was to Spike the best possible act, speech, or reflection of which man was capable.
"You know what that fellow been if he been here now," he volunteered at parting. "I dell you, you bed your life! He been a gompanion unt partner in full with that great American train-robber, Chessie Chames. Sure he would. My grantmutter she seen him like she could maybe reach out a finger unt touch him!" "I'll call him Nap," promised Bean.
"Got them? Got what?" "Dese." He plunged his hand in his pocket, and drew forth a glittering mass. Jimmy's jaw dropped as he gazed at Lady Blunt's rope of pearls. "Two hundred t'ousand plunks," murmured Spike, gazing lovingly at them. "I says to myself, Mr. Chames ain't got no time to be getting' after dem himself. He's too busy dese days wit' jollyin' along the swells.
"My position has also the advantage of carrying a good deal of money with it." "Plunks!" "You have grasped it. Plunks. Dollars. Doubloons. I line up with the thickwads now, Spike. I don't have to work to turn a dishonest penny any longer." The horrid truth sank slowly into the other's mind. "Say! What, Mr. Chames? Youse don't need to go on de old lay no more? You're cutting it out for fair?"
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