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Updated: June 24, 2025
In the end, he was given a captain's pay and the rank of sergeant. As a favor, he was allowed to share a beat with Honest Izzy under Captain Hendrix, who had simply switched sides after losing the morning's battle. Gordon's credits were changed to Legal scrip, and he was issued a trim-fitting green uniform.
Outside, the parade picked up enthusiasm as smaller gangs joined behind the main one. There were a fair number of plain citizens who had been impressed into it, too, judging by the appearance of little frightened groups in the middle of the mobsters. Gordon couldn't understand why the police hadn't at least been kept on duty, until Honest Izzy came into the room.
"You'd be scoutin' up here at this time of day after a ten-dollar commission, wouldn't you?" says I. "And with that slump in Connecticut Gas in full blast! Can it, Izzy! I know a thing or two about Tractions myself." "Yes?" he whispers persuasive, almost holdin' his breath. "What do you hear, now?"
Then, stretching herself across the august Lady de Brantefield, who drew back, far as space would permit, "Beg your pardon, ma'am, but I just want to say a word to this lady. A'n't you the lady yes that sat beside me at the play the other night the Merchant of Venice and the Maid of the Oaks, was not it, Izzy?
I ask you, is it any reason him and his papa got scenes together until for the neighbors I'm ashamed, and for papa's heart so afraid? That a fine boy like our Izzy should run so wild!" Tears lay close to the surface of her voice, and she created a sudden flurry of dust, sweeping with short, swift strokes. "Izzy's not so worse! Give me a boy like Izzy any time, to a mollycoddle.
Ain't that a trouble for you?" "She herself as much as told me not a thing does her swell brother over on Kingston do for them. I guess such a job as that boy has got in his banking-house he could get from a stranger too." "'Sh-h-h, Mrs. Lissman! Here he comes. Don't let on like we been talking about him. Speak to him like always." "Good evening, Izzy."
The muscles of his throat were working. "Wally, it's " She paused for a word. "Kind" was horrible. It would have sounded cold, almost supercilious. "Sweet" was the sort of thing she could imagine Lois Penham saying to her friend Izzy. She began her sentence again. "You're a dear to say that, but . . ." Wally laughed chokingly. "You think I'm altruistic? I'm not.
But it was a quarter after three already, he was practically broke and he had no idea where she could be found. Bruce Gordon jerked the door open to yell for Izzy while he tucked the bit of notebook cover into his pocket. Then he stopped as something nibbled at his mind; the odor Gordon had smelled before registered. He yanked out the bit of notebook and sniffed.
". . . You don't know the half of it, dearie, you don't know the half of it! A one-piece bathing suit! Well, you could call it that, but the cop on the beach said it was more like a baby's sock. And when . . ." ". . . So I said 'Listen, Izzy, that'll be about all from you! My father was a gentleman, though I don't suppose you know what that means, and I'm not accustomed . . ." "Hey!"
"What's he done?" "I don't know that he has done anything," returned Tom, in the same low tone. "But we're going to take him with us to Scarboro. That is the place he has run away from." "Did he run away from home?" demanded Isadore Phelps. "What for?" "I don't know. But don't you ask him!" commanded Tom. "He wouldn't tell you, anyway; he won't tell father. But don't nag him, Izzy."
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