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Bart shut off the light, slipped on his shoes, and drawing a coat over his pajamas lighted the oil stable lantern, hung it with its back toward me, on a long hook that reached down from one of the rafters, and bore down upon Larry, whose face was instantly wreathed in puckered smiles at the sight of a fellow-human who, though big, evidently had no intention of being aggressive.
"Well, I give it up," said Larry hopelessly. "What do you want?" "I want both. My man must want me more than he wants Heaven itself, and he must give me all he has but honour. Such a man would be my slave! And such a man oh, I'd just love to be bullied by him."
If she thanked him it was with a look. Assuredly her eyes had never before held that gaze for Neale. Then she left the room, and presently Stanton's companion followed her. But Beauty Stanton remained. She appeared amazed, even dismayed. Larry lighted his cigarette. "Shore I'd call thet a square kid," he said. "Neale, if you get any drunker you'll lose all thet money."
The Holidays were like that. And then Larry on his feet raised his hand for silence. "Last and best of all," he said, "I give you the Head of the House of Holiday the best friend and the finest man I know Uncle Phil!" Larry smiled down at his uncle as he spoke but there was deep feeling in his fine gray eyes.
Then, as she went lower what appeared to be a gray cloud showed. "There's a bank of fog below us," declared Paul. "Or else it's the smoke of Pittsburg," said Innis. "We left Pittsburg behind long ago," Larry returned. "Why!" he cried, as the gray foglike mass became more distinct. "That's water that's what it is!" "Water!" exclaimed Dick.
Mangan, and his bewildering change of front; even Christian, and her views as to his responsibility for the tragedy of the morning, stood aside to make way for the absorbing problems of colour and composition. The hound puppies strolled on, side by side, heads up, and high-held sterns, steering for nowhere in particular, oblivious as Larry of all save the moment as it passed.
I can see him now. He suggested a bullfrog as he sat in the little room we shared in common, his arms akimbo over a law book, his little legs doubled under him, his round, eyes fixed expectantly on the doorway. And even if I had not been aware of my good fortune in being connected with such a firm as Theodore Watling's, Larry would shortly have brought it home to me.
Dick was prompt enough to report his stock transactions, and he was eager enough to discuss the probable fluctuation of this or that stock; but when asked to go over what Larry had done, he refused flatly and good-humoredly to "sit in any such slow, dead game." "If my Solomon-headed sister is satisfied with what you're doing, Captain Nemo, that's good enough for me," he would say.
This is no time for ceremonies. I hope you will have news for me soon." "So do I," answered Larry as he took his leave. The young reporter was soon in that neighborhood of the city where was situated the deserted tenement in which he believed there was some mystery. As he approached the ramshackle old structure he noticed a figure pacing up and down in front of it.
"Our family have been writ proof for centuries, and he'd have been a bold man who would have ventured with an original or a true copy within the precincts of Killinahoula." "Your father had a touch of Larry M'Hale in him," said I, "apparently." "Exactly so," replied Dennis; "not but they caught him at last, and a scurvy trick it was and well worthy of him who did it!
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