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What the owner of this place wants," he went on reflectively, "is scalping. Well, we'll do it in the paper if we can't in any other way. Is this your kid?" A small boy had appeared. He seemed surprised to see visitors. Pugsy undertook to do the honors. Pugsy, as interpreter, was energetic, but not wholly successful.
"I'll soon find him all right." "Do, and as quick as you can. And when you've found him tell him that his old chum, Spider Reilly, is here, with the rest of his crowd. And now I'd better be getting up on to my perch. Off you go, Pugsy, my son, and don't take a week about it. Good-by." Pugsy vanished, and John, going to the ladder, climbed out on to the roof with his big stick. He looked about him.
Parker, that the seedy-looking man made his appearance. He walked in from the street, and stood before Master Maloney. "Hey, kid," he said. Pugsy looked up with some hauteur. He resented being addressed as "kid" by perfect strangers. Pugsy by this time had taken a thorough dislike to him. To be called "kid" was bad. The subtle insult of "Tommy" was still worse.
Renshaw paused with the air of an exile bidding farewell to his native land, sighed and trotted out. Smith put his feet upon the table, flicked a speck of dust from his coat-sleeve, and resumed his task of reading the proofs of Luella Granville Waterman's "Moments in the Nursery." He had not been working long, when Pugsy Maloney, the office boy, entered. "Say!" said Pugsy.
"I had heard no inkling of this, Comrade Maloney. I had always imagined you one of those strong, rugged, blood-and-iron men who were above the softer emotions. Who is she?" "Aw, she's a kid," said Pugsy. "Her pa runs a delicatessen shop down our street. She ain't a bad mutt," added the ardent swain. "I'm her steady."
He had a smooth, clean-shaven face, and a cat-like way of moving. As Pugsy had stated in effect, he wore a tail-coat, trousers with a crease which brought a smile of kindly approval to Psmith's face, and patent-leather boots of pronounced shininess. Gloves and a tall hat, which he carried, completed an impressive picture. He moved softly into the room. "I wished to see the editor."
And, after you've found out, you can take the rest of the day off." "Me fer dat," said Master Maloney with enthusiasm. "I'll take me goil to de Bronx Zoo." "Your girl? I didn't know you'd got a girl, Pugsy. I always imagined you as one of those strong, stern, blood-and-iron men who despised girls. Who is she?" "Aw, she's a kid," said Pugsy. "Her pa runs a delicatessen shop down our street.
"It's a long shot, but this might turn out to be just what we need." And when, two days after the publication of the number containing the article, Mr. Martin Parker called at the office, he felt that the long shot had won out. He was holding forth on life in general to Betty shortly before the luncheon hour when Pugsy Maloney entered bearing a card. "Martin Parker?" said Smith, taking it.
She had taken it for granted that things had continued as she had left them; and the only possible explanation to her of John's presence in New York was that, acting under orders from Mr. Scobell, he had come to try and bring her back. She shuddered as she conjured up the scene that must have taken place if Pugsy had not mentioned his name and she had gone on into the inner room.
Whether he brought him as an ally in case of need or merely as a kindred soul with whom he might commune during his vigil, did not appear. Pugsy, startled out of his wonted calm by the arrival of this distinguished company, gazed after the pair, as they passed into the inner office, with protruding eyes. John greeted the allies warmly, and explained Smith's absence. Mr.
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