injudicious move to lay stress on your proficiency as a burglar. The
householder may be supposed to take that for granted. The side of
your character that should be advertised in such a crisis is the
non-burglarious. Allusion should be made to the fact that, as a
child, you attended Sunday school regularly, and to what the
minister said when you took the divinity prize. The idea should be
conveyed to the householder’s mind that, if let off with a caution,
your innate goodness of heart will lead you to reform and to avoid
such scenes in future.
With some astonishment, therefore, Jimmy found that these
revelations, so far from prejudicing the man with the revolver
against him, had apparently told in his favor. The man behind the
gun was regarding him rather with interest than disapproval.
“So, you’re a crook from London, are you?”
Jimmy did not hesitate. If being a crook from London was a passport
into citizens’ parlors in the small hours, and, more particularly,
if it carried with it also a safe-conduct out of them, Jimmy was not
the man to refuse the role. He bowed.
“Well, you’ll have to come across, now you’re in New York.
Understand that! And come across good.”
“Sure, he will,” said Spike, charmed that the tension had been
relieved, and matters placed upon a pleasant and business-like
footing. “He’ll be good. He’s next to de game, sure.”
“Sure,” echoed Jimmy, courteously. He did not understand; but things
seemed to be taking a turn for the better, so why disturb the
harmony?
“Dis gent,” said Spike respectfully, “is boss of de cops. A police-
captain,” he corrected himself.
A light broke upon Jimmy’s darkness. He wondered he had not
understood before. He had not been a newspaper-man in New York for a
year without finding out something of the inner workings of the
police force. He saw now why the other’s manner had changed.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said. “We must have a talk together one of
these days.”
“We must,” said the police-captain, significantly. He was rich,
richer than he had ever hoped to be; but he was still on Tom
Tiddler’s ground, and meant to make the most of it.
“Of course, I don’t know your methods on this side, but anything
that’s usual–”
“I’ll see you at my office. Spike Mullins will show you where it
is.”
“Very well. You must forgive this preliminary informal call. We came
in more to shelter from the rain than anything.”
“You did, did you?”
Jimmy felt that it behooved him to stand on his dignity. The
situation demanded it.
“Why,” he said with some hauteur, “in the ordinary course of
business I should hardly waste time over a small crib like–”
“It’s banks fer his,” murmured Spike, rapturously. “He eats dem
alive. An’ jools from duchesses.”
“I admit a partiality for jewels and duchesses,” said Jimmy. “And,
now, as it’s a little late, perhaps we had better–Ready, Spike?
Good-night, then. Pleased to have met you.”
“I’ll see you at my office.”
“I may possibly look in. I shall be doing very little work in New
York, I fancy. I am here merely on a vacation.”
“If you do any work at all,” said the policeman coldly, “you’ll look
in at my office, or you’ll wish you had when it’s too late.”
“Of course, of course. I shouldn’t dream of omitting any formality
that may be usual. But I don’t fancy I shall break my vacation. By
the way, one little thing. Have you. any objections to my carving a
J on your front-door?”
The policeman stared.
“On the inside. It won’t show. It’s just a whim of mine. If you have
no objection?”
“I don’t want any of your–” began the policeman.
“You misunderstand me. It’s only that it means paying for a dinner.
I wouldn’t for the world–”
The policeman pointed to the window.
“Out you get,” he said, abruptly. “I’ve had enough of you. And don’t
you forget to come to my office.”
Spike, still deeply mistrustful of the bull-dog Rastus, jumped at
the invitation. He was through the window and out of sight in the
friendly darkness almost before the policeman had finished speaking.