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The first man down from the seat halted and stared at the twisted, unsightly thing before him, and, with a little gasp, reached into his pocket and dropped a bill into the Flopper's hat. "God bless you!" stammered the Flopper and the tears sprang swimming to his eyes.
It was very good of you to come, Mr. ?" she paused invitingly. "Coogan," supplied the Flopper. "Michael Coogan." "Let me offer you a chair, Mr. Coogan," said Thornton, a little ironically, pushing one toward the Flopper. "Or would you be more comfortable on the floor?" The Flopper's eyelids fell covering a quick, ugly glint. "T'anks!" he said and swung himself, by his arms, into the chair.
From everywhere, from every scattered spot where they had been, men and women ran and limped and dragged themselves along, all converging on one point the Patriarch. Madison, in the midst of them now, hurried for it was plainly evident that the Flopper's control over the Patriarch was gone.
And slowly, very slowly, this conglomerate human cosmorama moved on, undulating queerly with the variant movements of its component parts, snail-like, for the Flopper's pace was slow as strange a spectacle, perhaps, as the human eye had ever witnessed, something of grimness, something of humor, something of awe, something of fear exuding from it it seemed to contain within itself the range, and to express, the gamut of all human emotion.
"He talks like his mouth was full, an' he's got a scare t'rown inter him so's his teeth have got de jiggles." Helena caught the Flopper's arm and shook him angrily. "What are you talking about what is it?" she demanded fiercely. "It's de porter from de private car," said the Flopper, wriggling away from her. "He drove out here. De lady's on de toboggan sick. She's askin' fer youse an' "
"No," the Flopper answered, circling his lips with his tongue again. "No; I ain't seen de Doc since but I seen Pale Face. Say, Helena" the Flopper's words came stumbling out now, agitated, perturbed, not altogether coherent "wot's de answer I dunno; I dunno wot's de matter here.
Helena looked up as the Flopper returned. Upon the Flopper's face was a curious expression not one that in the days gone by had been habitual it seemed to mingle a diffidence, a kindly solicitude and a sort of anxious responsibility. "It's Thornton askin' fer youse," announced the Flopper. Helena rose from her chair, and started for the door but the Flopper blocked the way.
The Flopper's black eyes contracted with hate and a scowl settled on his face, as he watched the policeman pass; then, as the other was lost again in the crowd ahead, he once more resumed his progress down the block. The Flopper crossed the intersecting street, his leg trailing a helpless, sinuous path on its not over-clean surface, and started along the next block.
The Flopper's finger nails scratched along the stone pavement and curved into the palm of his hand until the skin under the knuckles was bloodless white, and his lips moved in ugly, whispered words then, still whispering, he went on again.
The Flopper's tongue made a greedy circuit of his upper and under lips, and he hitched his chair closer to the table. A flush spread over Pale Face Harry's cheeks, and his eyes, abnormally bright, grew brighter. "You're all right, Doc," he assured Doc Madison anxiously. "You're all right." "U-uu-mm!" cooed Helena excitedly. "Go on, Doc go on!"
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