love is seldom vain about his personal attractions. Also, her father
firmly believed him to be a master-burglar.
“Otherwise,” said Jimmy, scowling at his reflection in the glass,
“everything’s splendid.” He brushed his hair sadly.
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.
“Hullo, Spike. Come in. What’s the matter?”
The rest of Mr. Mullins entered the room.
“Gee, boss! I wasn’t sure was dis your room. Say, who do you t’ink I
nearly bumped me coco ag’inst out in de corridor downstairs? Why,
old man McEachern, de cop. Dat’s right!”
“Yes?”
“Sure. Say, what’s he doin’ on dis beat? I pretty near went down an’
out when I seen him. Dat’s right. Me breath ain’t got back home
yet.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“Did he! He starts like an actor on top de stoige when he sees he’s
up ag’inst de plot to ruin him, an’ he gives me de fierce eye.”
“Well?”
“I was wonderin’ was I on Thoid Avenoo, or was I standin’ on me
coco, or what was I doin’ anyhow. Den I slips off, an’ chases meself
up here. Say, boss, what’s de game? What’s old man McEachern doin’
stunts dis side fer?”
“It’s all right, Spike. Keep calm. I can explain. He has retired–
like me! He’s one of the handsome guests here.”
“On your way, boss! What’s dat?”
“He left the force just after that merry meeting of ours when you
frolicked with the bull-dog. He came over here, and butted into
society. So, 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–” he stammered.
“Yes?”
“Den, what’s be goin’ to do?”
“I couldn’t say. I’m expecting to hear shortly. But we needn’t worry
ourselves. The next move’s with him. If he wants to comment on the
situation, he won’t be backward. He’ll come and do it.”
“Sure. It’s up to him,” agreed Spike.
“I’m quite comfortable. Speaking for myself, I’m having a good time.
How are you getting along downstairs?”
“De limit, boss. Honest, it’s to de velvet. Dey’s an old gazebo, de
butler, Saunders his name is, dat’s de best ever at handin’ out long
woids. I sits an’ listens. Dey calls me Mr. Mullins down dere,” said
Spike, with pride.
“Good. I’m glad you’re all right. There’s no season why we shouldn’t
have an excellent time here. I don’t think that Mr. McEachern will
try to have us turned out, after he’s heard one or two little things
I have to say to him–just a few reminiscences of the past which may
interest him. I have the greatest affection for Mr. McEachern–I
wish it were mutual–but nothing he can say is going to make me stir
from here.”
“Not on your life,” agreed Spike. “Say, boss, he must have got a lot
of plunks to be able to butt in here. An’ I know how he got dem,
too. Dat’s right. I comes from little old New York, meself.”
“Hush, Spike, this is scandal!”
“Sure,” said the Bowery boy doggedly, safely started now on his
favorite subject. “I knows, an’ youse knows, boss. Gee! I wish I’d
bin a cop. But I wasn’t tall enough. Dey’s de fellers wit’ de big
bank-rolls. Look at dis old McEachern. Money to boin a wet dog wit’
he’s got, an’ never a bit of woik fer it from de start to de finish.
An’ look at me, boss.”
“I do, Spike, I do.”
“Look at me. Gittin’ busy all de year round, woikin’ to beat de
band–”
“In prisons oft,” said Jimmy.
“Sure t’ing. An’ chased all roun’ de town. An’ den what? Why, to de
bad at de end of it all. Say, it’s enough to make a feller–”
“Turn honest,” said Jimmy. “That’s it, Spike. Reform. You’ll be glad
some day.”
Spike seemed to be doubtful. He was silent for a moment, then, as if
following up a train of thought, he said:
“Boss, dis is a fine big house.”
“I’ve seen worse.”