regret it. We’re all going some, except you. You’re going out on the
old trail again–which begins in Third Avenue, and ends in Sing
Sing. Why tear yourself away, Spike?”
Spike concentrated his gaze on a weedy young emigrant in a blue
jersey, who was having his eye examined by the overworked doctor and
seemed to be resenting it.
“Dere’s nuttin’ doin’ dis side, boss,” he said, at length. “I want
to git busy.”
“Ulysses Mullins!” said Jimmy, looking at him curiously. “I know the
feeling. There’s only one cure. I sketched it out for you once, but
I guess you’ll never take it. Yon don’t think a lot of women, do
you? You’re the rugged bachelor.”
“Goils–!” began Spike comprehensively, and abandoned the topic
without dilating on it further.
Jimmy lighted his pipe, and threw the match overboard.
The sun came out from behind a cloud, and the water sparkled.
“Dose were great jools, boss,” said Spike, thoughtfully.
“I believe you’re still brooding over them, Spike.”
“We could have got away wit’ dem, if youse would have stood fer it.
Dead easy.”
“You are brooding over them. Spike, I’ll tell you something which
will console you a little, before you start out on your wanderings.
It’s in confidence, so keep it dark. That necklace was paste.”
“What’s dat?”
“Nothing but paste. I got next directly you handed them to me. They
weren’t worth a hundred dollars.”
A light of understanding came into Spike’s eyes. His face beamed
with the smile of one to whom dark matters are made clear.
“So, dat’s why you wouldn’t stan’ fer gittin’ away wit’ dem!” he
exclaimed.