CHAPTER XIII
SPIKE'S VIEWS
Nevertheless, it was in an exalted frame of mind that Jimmy dressedfor dinner. It seemed to him that he had awakened from a sort ofstupor. Life, so gray yesterday, now appeared full of color andpossibilities. Most men who either from choice or necessity haveknocked about the world for any length of time are more or lessfatalists. Jimmy was an optimistic fatalist. He had always looked onFate, not as a blind dispenser at random of gifts good and bad, butrather as a benevolent being with a pleasing bias in his own favor.He had almost a Napoleonic faith in his star. At various periods ofhis life (notably at the time when, as he had told Lord Dreever, hehad breakfasted on bird-seed), he had been in uncommonly tightcorners, but his luck had always extricated him. It struck him thatit would be an unthinkable piece of bad sportsmanship on Fate's partto see him through so much, and then to abandon him just as he hadarrived in sight of what was by far the biggest thing of his life.Of course, his view of what constituted the biggest thing in lifehad changed with the years. Every ridge of the Hill of SupremeMoments in turn had been mistaken by him for the summit; but thislast, he felt instinctively, was genuine. For good or bad, Molly waswoven into the texture of his life. In the stormy period of theearly twenties, he had thought the same of other girls, who were nowmere memories as dim as those of figures in a half-forgotten play.In their case, his convalescence had been temporarily painful, butbrief. Force of will and an active life had worked the cure. He hadmerely braced himself, and firmly ejected them from his mind. A weekor two of aching emptiness, and his heart had been once more inreadiness, all nicely swept and garnished, for the next lodger.
But, in the case of Molly, it was different. He had passed the ageof instantaneous susceptibility. Like a landlord who has beencheated by previous tenants, he had become wary. He mistrusted hispowers of recuperation in case of disaster. The will in thesematters, just like the mundane "bouncer," gets past its work. Forsome years now, Jimmy had had a feeling that the next arrival wouldcome to stay; and he had adopted in consequence a gently defensiveattitude toward the other sex. Molly had broken through this, and hesaw that his estimate of his will-power had been just. Methods thathad proved excellent in the past were useless now. There was notrace here of the dimly consoling feeling of earlier years, thatthere were other girls in the world. He did not try to deceivehimself. He knew that he had passed the age when a man can fall inlove with any one of a number of types.
This was the finish, one way or the other. There would be no secondthrow. She had him. However it might end, he belonged to her.
There are few moments in a man's day when his brain is morecontemplative than during that brief space when he is lathering hisface, preparatory to shaving. Plying the brush, Jimmy reviewed thesituation. He was, perhaps, a little too optimistic. Notunnaturally, he was inclined to look upon his luck as a sort ofspecial train which would convey him without effort to Paradise.Fate had behaved so exceedingly handsomely up till now! By a seriesof the most workmanlike miracles, it had brought him to the point ofbeing Molly's fellow-guest at a country-house. This, as reasoncoldly pointed out a few moments later, was merely the beginning,but to Jimmy, thoughtfully lathering, it seemed the end. It was onlywhen he had finished shaving, and was tying his cravat, that hebegan to perceive obstacles in his way, and sufficiently bigobstacles, at that.
In the first place, Molly did not love him. And, he was bound toadmit, there was no earthly reason why she ever should. A man inlove is seldom vain about his personal attractions. Also, her fatherfirmly 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 Inearly 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 homeyet."
"Did he recognize you?"
"Did he! He starts like an actor on top de stoige when he sees he'sup 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 mecoco, or what was I doin' anyhow. Den I slips off, an' chases meselfup 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--likeme! 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 youfrolicked with the bull-dog. He came over here, and butted intosociety. So, here we are again, all gathered together under the sameroof, like a jolly little family party."
Spike's open mouth bore witness to his amazement.
"Den--" he stammered.
"Yes?"
"Den, what's he goin' to do?"
"I couldn't say. I'm expecting to hear shortly. But we needn't worryourselves. The next move's with him. If he wants to comment on thesituation, 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, debutler, Saunders his name is, dat's de best ever at handin' out longwoids. I sits an' listens. Dey calls me Mr. Mullins down dere," saidSpike, with pride.
"Good. I'm glad you're all right. There's no reason why we shouldn'thave an excellent time here. I don't think that Mr. McEachern willtry to have us turned out, after he's heard one or two little thingsI have to say to him--just a few reminiscences of the past which mayinterest him. I have the greatest affection for Mr. McEachern--Iwish it were mutual--but nothing he can say is going to make me stirfrom here."
"Not on your life," agreed Spike. "Say, boss, he must have got a lotof 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 hisfavorite subject. "I knows, an' youse knows, boss. Gee! I wish I'dbin a cop. But I wasn't tall enough. Dey's de fellers wit' de bigbank-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 deband--"
"In prisons oft," said Jimmy.
"Sure t'ing. An' chased all roun' de town. An' den what? Why, to debad 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 gladsome day."
Spike seemed to be doubtful. He was silent for a moment, then, as iffollowing up a train of thought, he said:
"Boss, dis is a fine big house."
"I've seen worse."
"Say, couldn't we--?"
"Spike!" said Jimmy, warningly.
"Well, couldn't we?" said Spike, doggedly. "It ain't often yousebutts into a dead-easy proposition like dis one. We shouldn't haveto do a t'ing excep' git busy. De stuff's just lyin' about, boss."
"I shouldn't wonder."
"Aw, it's a waste to leave it."
"Spike," said Jimmy, "I warned you of this. I begged you to be onyour guard, to fight against your professional instincts. Be a man!Crush them. Try and occupy your mind. Collect butterflies."
Spike shuffled in gloomy silence.
"'Membe
r dose jools youse swiped from de duchess?" he said,musingly.
"The dear duchess!" murmured Jimmy. "Ah, me!"
"An' de bank youse busted?"
"Those were happy days, Spike."
"Gee!" said the Bowery boy. And then, after a pause: "Dat was to degood," he said, wistfully.
Jimmy arranged his tie at the mirror.
"Dere's a loidy here," continued Spike, addressing the chest ofdrawers, "dat's got a necklace of jools what's wort' a hundredt'ousand plunks. Honest, boss. A hundred t'ousand plunks. Saunderstold me dat--de old gazebo dat hands out de long woids. I says tohim, 'Gee!' an' he says, 'Surest t'ing youse know.' A hundredt'ousand plunks!"
"So I understand," said Jimmy.
"Shall I rubber around, an' find out where is dey kept, boss?"
"Spike," said Jimmy, "ask me no more. All this is in directcontravention of our treaty respecting keeping your fingers off thespoons. You pain me. Desist."
"Sorry, boss. But dey'll be willy-wonders, dem jools. A hundredt'ousand plunks. Dat's goin' some, ain't it? What's dat dis side?"
"Twenty thousand pounds."
"Gee!...Can I help youse wit' de duds, boss?"
"No, thanks, Spike, I'm through now. You might just give me a brushdown, though. No, not that. That's a hair-brush. Try the big blackone."
"Dis is a boid of a dude suit," observed Spike, pausing in hislabors.
"Glad you like it, Spike. Rather chic, I think."
"It's de limit. Excuse me. How much did it set youse back, boss?"
"Something like seven guineas, I believe. I could look up the bill,and let you know."
"What's dat--guineas? Is dat more dan a pound?"
"A shilling more. Why these higher mathematics?"
Spike resumed his brushing.
"What a lot of dude suits youse could git," he observedmeditatively, "if youse had dem jools!" He became suddenly animated.He waved the clothes-brush. "Oh, you boss!" he cried. "What's eatin'youse? Aw, it's a shame not to. Come along, you boss! Say, what'sdoin'? Why ain't youse sittin' in at de game? Oh, you boss!"
Whatever reply Jimmy might have made to this impassioned appeal waschecked by a sudden bang on the door. Almost simultaneously, thehandle turned.
"Gee!" cried Spike. "It's de cop!"
Jimmy smiled pleasantly.
"Come in, Mr. McEachern," he said, "come in. Journeys end in loversmeeting. You know my friend Mr. Mullins, I think? Shut the door, andsit down, and let's talk of many things."