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Updated: June 1, 2025
That man this evening, when he called me 'jailbird' " "I wish I had wrung his neck!" exclaimed the captain of the Seamew heartily. "I appreciate your kindness." Her eyes twinkled. For a moment he caught a glimpse of what Sheila Macklin must have been before tragedy had come into her life. "You are a good, kind man, Captain Latham."
That, Sir, was the tissue of lies which that jailbird had concocted for my undoing, knowing well that I could not disprove them because it had been my task on that eventful morning to keep an eye on M. le Marquis whilst he went to the Mont de Piété first, and then to MM. Raynal Frères, the bankers where he deposited the money.
Where'd she get all that money she's been flamming about with, and that grand house, better than new, with all the latest improvements. Wa'n't we some jays to be took in like we was by a little, white-faced chit like her? Couldn't see through a grindstone with a hole in it! Bolton House.... And an automobile to fetch the old jailbird home in. Wa'n't it love-ly?" A low growl ran around the circle.
"You promise that, solemnly?" "On my honor," promised the jailbird, sardonically. "I'll try to get you the money, Tip. But see here, I'll be in front of the drug store next to the post office, at just three o'clock to-morrow afternoon. You stop and look in the same window, but don't speak to me. If I can get the five I'll slip it into your hand. Then I'll move away.
He was so fine a specimen he could not but know it! so much the free man, the honorable man, the man of the world! He tried to see himself with his hair clipped and his beard shaven and the white cravat and waistcoat replaced by the harlequin costume of the jailbird.
"Say Johnson!" roared the Texan. "That ain't me. I'm no jailbird." "Glad to know it." Briscoe laughed in suave triumph. "I thought you might be. This description sounds some familiar. I'll not read it all. But listen: 'Scar on right cheek, running from bridge of nose toward ear. Trigger finger missing; shot away when last arrested.
"That's a good job," remarked Wallop, "and the sooner you tell them all so the better. They'd all like to have your present address." "I'm not sure that that would console them much," said Crow. "It's rather a shadier place than the old one." "Yes, when you come to think of it, a fellow would get a bit shy when he read the address, `care of Tom Jailbird, Esquire, Up a Slum, Drury Lane."
He tells Myron he's a fool sheriff to leave his door wide open that way, because this bad Chinaman tried to walk out as soon as he'd gone, and would of done so it Pete hadn't jumped him. "It leaves Myron plenty embarrassed, but he finally says to Pete he can go free, anyway, now, for being such an honest jailbird; and old Sing Wah can go, too, having been punished enough by Pete's handling.
He'd drink until the alcohol stirred up all of the evil in his ugly heart; then he'd stop, always sure of his eye and his hand. It was far more likely that with a crowd of his own sort he was gambling in the card-room of the Last Chance saloon, the Jailbird saloon as "white" men called it.
The Captain then proceeded to indulge in random recollections of his political career, and withering denunciations of one Larry Mulcahy, his successful rival for the office of School Inspector, whom the Captain did not hesitate to brand as a jailbird. When the party returned to the block where the Overtop theory was to be tested, Mr. Quigg's services were found invaluable.
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