CHAPTER VI
AN EXHIBITION PERFORMANCE
Cold reason may disapprove of wagers, but without a doubt there issomething joyous and lovable in the type of mind that rushes at theleast provocation into the making of them, something smacking of thespacious days of the Regency. Nowadays, the spirit seems to havedeserted England. When Mr. Asquith became Premier of Great Britain,no earnest forms were to be observed rolling peanuts along theStrand with a toothpick. When Mr. Asquith is dethroned, it isimprobable that any Briton will allow his beard to remain unshaveduntil the Liberal party returns to office. It is in the UnitedStates that the wager has found a home. It is characteristic of someminds to dash into a wager with the fearlessness of a soldier in aforlorn hope, and, once in, to regard it almost as a sacred trust.Some men never grow up out of the schoolboy spirit of "daring."
To this class Jimmy Pitt belonged. He was of the same type as theman in the comic opera who proposed to the lady because somebody bethim he wouldn't. There had never been a time when a challenge, a"dare," had not acted as a spur to him. In his newspaper days, lifehad been one long series of challenges. They had been the essence ofthe business. A story had not been worth getting unless the gettingwere difficult.
With the conclusion of his newspaper life came a certain flatnessinto the scheme of things. There were times, many times, when Jimmywas bored. He hungered for excitement, and life appeared to have solittle to offer! The path of the rich man was so smooth, and itseemed to lead nowhere! This task of burgling a house was like anunexpected treat to a child. With an intensity of purpose thatshould have touched his sense of humor, but, as a matter of fact,did not appeal to him as ludicrous in any way, he addressed himselfto the work. The truth was that Jimmy was one of those men who arecharged to the brim with force. Somehow, the force had to find anoutlet. If he had undertaken to collect birds' eggs, he would haveset about it with the same tense energy.
Spike was sitting on the edge of his chair, dazed but happy, hishead still buzzing from the unhoped-for praise. Jimmy looked at hiswatch. It was nearly three o'clock. A sudden idea struck him. Thegods had provided gifts: why not take them?
"Spike!"
"Huh?"
"Would you care to come and crack a crib with me, now?"
Reverential awe was written on the red-haired one's face.
"Gee, boss!"
"Would you?"
"Surest t'ing you know, boss."
"Or, rather," proceeded Jimmy, "would you care to crack a crib whileI came along with you? Strictly speaking, I am here on a vacation,but a trifle like this isn't real work. It's this way," heexplained. "I've taken a fancy to you, Spike, and I don't like tosee you wasting your time on coarse work. You have the root of thematter in you, and with a little coaching I could put a polish onyou. I wouldn't do this for everyone, but I hate to see a manbungling who might do better! I want to see you at work. Come rightalong, and we'll go up-town, and you shall start in. Don't getnervous. Just work as you would if I were not there. I shall notexpect too much. Rome was not built in a day. When we are through, Iwill criticize a few of your mistakes. How does that suit you?"
"Gee, boss! Great! An' I know where dere's a peach of a place, boss.Regular soft proposition. A friend of mine told me. It's--"
"Very well, then. One moment, though."
He went to the telephone. Before he had left New York on histravels, Arthur Mifflin had been living at a hotel near WashingtonSquare. It was probable that he was still there. He called up thenumber. The night-clerk was an old acquaintance of his.
"Hello, Dixon," said Jimmy, "is that you? I'm Pitt--Pitt! Yes, I'mback. How did you guess? Yes, very pleasant. Has Mr. Mifflin come inyet? Gone to bed? Never mind, call him up, will you? Good."Presently, the sleepy and outraged voice of Mr. Mifflin spoke at theother end of the line.
"What's wrong? Who the devil's that?"
"My dear Arthur! Where you pick up such expressions I can't think--notfrom me."
"Is that you, Jimmy? What in the name of--!"
"Heavens! What are you kicking about? The night's yet young. Arthur,touching that little arrangement we made--cracking that crib, youknow. Are you listening? Have you any objection to my taking anassistant along with me? I don't want to do anything contrary to ouragreement, but there's a young fellow here who's anxious that Ishould let him come along and pick up a few hints. He's aprofessional all right. Not in our class, of course, but quite afair rough workman. He--Arthur! Arthur! These are harsh words! Then,am I to understand you have no objection? Very well. Only, don't saylater on that I didn't play fair. Good-night."
He hung up the receiver, and turned to Spike.
"Ready?"
"Ain't youse goin' to put on your gum-shoes, boss?"
Jimmy frowned reflectively, as if there was something in what thisnovice suggested. He went into the bedroom, and returned wearing apair of thin patent-leather shoes.
Spike coughed tentatively.
"Won't youse need your gun?" he hazarded. Jimmy gave a short laugh.
"I work with brains, not guns," he said. "Let us be going."
There was a taxi-cab near by, as there always is in New York. Jimmypushed Spike in, and they drove off. To Jimmy, New York stoppedsomewhere about Seventy-Second Street. Anything beyond that wasgetting on for the Middle West, and seemed admirably suited as afield for the cracksman. He had a vague idea of up-town as a remote,desolate district, badly lighted--if lighted at all--and sparselydotted with sleepy policemen.
The luxury of riding in a taxi-cab kept Spike dumb for severalmiles. Having arrived at what seemed a sufficiently remote part ofAmerica, Jimmy paid the driver, who took the money with thatmagnificently aloof air which characterizes the taxi-chauffeur. Alesser man might have displayed some curiosity about the ill-matchedpair. The chauffeur, having lighted a cigarette, drove off withoutany display of interest whatsoever. It might have been part ofhis ordinary duties to drive gentlemen in evening clothes andshock-headed youths in parti-colored sweaters about the city at threeo'clock in the morning.
"We will now," said Jimmy, "stroll on and prospect. It is up to you,Spike. Didn't you say something about knowing a suitable housesomewhere? Are we anywhere near it?"
Spike looked at the number of the street.
"We got some way to go, boss," he said. "I wisht youse hadn't sentaway de cab."
"Did you think we were going to drive up to the door? Pull yourselftogether, my dear man."
They walked on, striking eastward out of Broadway. It caused Jimmysome surprise to find that the much-enduring thoroughfare extendedas far as this. It had never occurred to him before to ascertainwhat Broadway did with itself beyond Times Square.
It was darker now that they had moved from the center of things, butit was still far too light for Jimmy's tastes. He was content,however, to leave matters entirely to his companion. Spike probablyhad his methods for evading publicity on these occasions.
Spike plodded on. Block after block he passed, until finally thehouses began to be more scattered.
At last, he halted before a fair-sized detached house.
"Dis is de place," he said. "A friend of mine tells me of it. Ididn't know he was me friend, dough, before he puts me wise aboutdis joint. I t'ought he'd got it in fer me 'cos of last week when Iscrapped wit' him about somet'in'. I t'ought after that he waslayin' fer me, but de next time he seen me he put me wise to displace."
"Coals of fire," said Jimmy. "He was of a forgiving disposition." Asingle rain-drop descended on the nape of his neck. In anothermoment, a smart shower had begun.
"This matter has passed out of our hands," said Jimmy. "We mustbreak in, if only to get shelter. Get busy, my lad."
There was a handy window only a few feet from the ground. Spikepulled from his pocket a small bottle.
"What's that?" inquired Jimmy.
"Molasses, boss," said Spike, deferentially.
He poured the contents of the bottle on a piece of paper, which hepressed firmly against the window
-pane. Then, drawing out a shortsteel instrument, he gave the paper a sharp tap. The glass brokealmost inaudibly. The paper came away, leaving a gap in the pane.Spike inserted his hand, shot back the catch, and softly pushed upthe window.
"Elementary," said Jimmy; "elementary, but quite neat."
There was now a shutter to be negotiated. This took longer, but inthe end Spike's persuasive methods prevailed.
Jimmy became quite cordial.
"You have been well-grounded, Spike," he said. "And, after all, thatis half the battle. The advice I give to every novice is, 'Learn towalk before you try to run.' Master the a, b, c, of the craft first.With a little careful coaching, you will do. Just so. Pop in."
Spike climbed cautiously over the sill, followed by Jimmy. Thelatter struck a match, and found the electric light switch. Theywere in a parlor, furnished and decorated with surprising taste.Jimmy had expected the usual hideousness, but here everything fromthe wall-paper to the smallest ornaments was wonderfully wellselected.
Business, however, was business. This was no time to stand admiringartistic effects in room-furnishing. There was that big J to becarved on the front door. If 'twere done, then 'twere well 'tweredone quickly.
He was just moving to the door, when from some distant part of thehouse came the bark of a dog. Another joined in. The solo became aduet. The air was filled with their clamor.
"Gee!" cried Spike.
The remark seemed more or less to sum up the situation.
"'Tis sweet," says Byron, "to hear the watch-dog's honest bark."Jimmy and Spike found two watch-dogs' honest barks cloying. Spikeintimated this by making a feverish dash for the open window.Unfortunately for the success of this maneuver, the floor of theroom was covered not with a carpet but with tastefully scatteredrugs, and underneath these rugs it was very highly polished. Spike,treading on one of these islands, was instantly undone. No power ofwill or muscle can save a man in such a case. Spike skidded. Hisfeet flew from under him. There was a momentary flash of red head,as of a passing meteor. The next moment, he had fallen on his backwith a thud that shook the house. Even in the crisis, the thoughtflashed across Jimmy's mind that this was not Spike's lucky night.
Upstairs, the efforts of the canine choir had begun to resemble the"A che la morte" duet in "Il Trovatore." Particularly good work wasbeing done by the baritone dog.
Spike sat up, groaning. Equipped though he was by nature with askull of the purest and most solid ivory, the fall had disconcertedhim. His eyes, like those of Shakespeare's poet, rolling in a finefrenzy, did glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven. Hepassed his fingers tenderly through his vermilion hair.
Heavy footsteps were descending the stairs. In the distance, thesoprano dog had reached A in alt., and was holding it, while hisfellow artiste executed runs in the lower register.
"Get up!" hissed Jimmy. "There's somebody coming! Get up, you idiot,can't you!"
It was characteristic of Jimmy that it never even occurred to him todesert the fallen one, and depart alone. Spike was his brother-in-arms.He would as soon have thought of deserting him as a sea-captainwould of abandoning the ship.
Consequently, as Spike, despite all exhortations, continued toremain on the floor, rubbing his head and uttering "Gee!" atintervals in a melancholy voice, Jimmy resigned himself to fate, andstood where he was, waiting for the door to open.
It opened the next moment as if a cyclone had been behind it.