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Chames, he must have got a lot of plunks to buy dis place. And I know how he got dem, too. Dat's right. I comes from old New York meself." "Hush, Spike, this is scandal!" "Sure," said the Bowery boy doggedly, securely mounted now on his favorite hobby horse. "I knows, and youse knows, Mr. Chames. Gee, I wish I'd bin a cop. But I wasn't tall enough. Dey's de fellers wit' de long green in der banks.
And here was his leader shattering his visions with a word. "Have another drink, Spike," said the lost leader sympathetically. "It's a shock to you, I guess." "I t'ought, Mr. Chames " "I know you did, and I'm very sorry for you. But it can't be helped. Noblesse oblige, Spike. We of the old aristocracy mustn't do these things. We should get ourselves talked about."
"It's all right, Spike. Keep calm. I can explain. Mr. McEachern owns the house." "On your way, Mr. Chames! What's dat?" "This is his house we're in, now. He left the force three years ago, came over here, and bought this place. And here we are again, all gathered together under the same roof, like a jolly little family party." Spike's open mouth bore witness to his amazement. "Den all dis "
"Spike," he added in an undertone, "to the woods. Chase yourself. It's not up to you to do stunts on this beat. Fade away." "Sure," said the abashed Spike, restored to a sense of his position. "Dat's right. I've got wheels in me coco, that's what I've got, comin' buttin' in here. Sorry, Mr. Chames. Sorry, gents. Me for the tall grass." He trotted away.
Chames will be pleased for fair when he gets back. So I has a try, and dey gets me while I'm at it. We'll cut out dat part." "Well, it's over now, at any rate. What have you been doing since you came to England?" "Gettin' moved on by de cops, mostly. An' sleepin' in de park." "Well, you needn't sleep in the park any more, Spike. You can pitch your moving tent with me. And you'll want some clothes.
We must be content with that." There was a furtive rap at the door. "Hullo?" said Jimmy. "Yes?" The door opened slowly. A grin, surmounted by a mop of red hair, appeared round the edge of it. "Well, Spike. Come in. What's the matter?" The rest of Mr. Mullins entered the room. "Gee, Mr. Chames, I wasn't sure dat dis was your room.
Only for a moment did Spike hesitate. Then he pulled out the jewels, and placed them in Jimmy's hand. Mr. Chames was Mr. Chames, and what he said went. But his demeanor was tragic, telling eloquently of hopes blighted. Jimmy took the necklace with a thrill. He was an expert in jewels, and a fine gem affected him much as a fine picture affects the artistic.
Chames," protested Spike. "Dere was a goil, dough. Only I was never her steady. And she married one of de odder boys." "Why didn't you knock him down and carry her off?" "He was de lightweight champion of de woild." "That makes a difference, doesn't it? But away with melancholy, Spike! I'm feeling as if somebody had given me Broadway for a birthday present." "Youse to de good," agreed Spike.
If half those yarns were true he must be a wealthy man by now. We shall hear of him running for mayor one of these days." "Say, Mr. Chames, wasn't youse struck on de goil?" "What girl?" said Jimmy quietly. "Old man McEachern's goil, Molly. Dey used to say dat youse was her steady." "If you don't mind, Spike, friend of my youth, we'll cut out that," said Jimmy.
The vapid and irreflective reader may jump to the conclusion that Jimmy was a casuist, and ought to have been ashamed of himself. He will be perfectly right. On the other hand, one excuse may urged in his favor. His casuistry imposed upon himself. To Jimmy, shaving, there entered, in the furtive manner habitual to that unreclaimed buccaneer, Spike Mullins. "Say, Mr. Chames," he said.
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