CHAPTER VII.
Jimmy dressed for dinner in a very exalted frame of mind that night.It seemed to him that he had awakened from a sort of a stupor. Lifewas so much fuller of possibilities than he had imagined a few daysback. The sudden acquisition of his uncle's money had, in a manner,brought him to a halt. Till then the exhilarating feeling of havinghis hand against the world had lent a zest to life. There had been nomonotony. There had always been obstacles. One may hardly perhapsdilate on the joys of toil in connection with him, considering theprecise methods by which he had supported himself; but neverthelesshis emotions when breaking the law of the United States had been akinto those of the honest worker in so far that his operations hadsatisfied the desire for action which possesses every man of brainsand energy. They had given him something to do. He had felt alive. Hisuncle's legacy had left him with a sensation of abrupt stoppage. Lifehad suddenly become aimless.
But now everything was altered. Once more the future was a thing ofimportance, to-morrow a day to be looked forward to with keenexpectation.
He tried to throw his mind back to the last occasion when he had seenMolly. He could not remember that he had felt any excessive emotion.Between _camaraderie_ and love there is a broad gulf. It had certainlynever been bridged in the old New York days. Then the frankfriendliness of which the American girl appears to have the monopolyhad been Molly's chief charm in his eyes. It had made possible acomradeship such as might have existed between men. But now there wasa difference. England seemed to have brought about a subtle change inher. Instinctively he felt that the old friendship, adequate before,was not enough now. He wanted more. The unexpected meeting, followingso closely upon Spike's careless words in London, had shown him histrue feelings. Misgivings crept upon him. Had he a right? Was it fair?He looked back at the last eight years of his life with the eye of animpartial judge. He saw them stripped of the glamour which triumphantcunning had lent them; saw them as they would appear to Molly.
He scowled at his reflection in the glass. "You've been a bad lot, myson," he said. "There's only one thing in your favor; and that is thefact that you've cut it all out for keeps. We must be content withthat."
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.
"Well, Spike. Come in. What's the matter?"
The rest of Mr. Mullins entered the room.
"Gee, Mr. Chames, I wasn't sure dat dis was your room. Say, who doyouse t'ink I nearly bumped me coco ag'in out in de corridor? Why, oldman McEachern, de cop. Dat's right!"
"Yes?"
"Sure. Say, what's he doin' on dis beat? Youse c'u'd have knocked medown wit' a bit of poiper when I see him. I pretty near went down andout. Dat's right. Me heart ain't got back home yet."
"Did he recognize you?"
"Sure! He starts like an actor on top de stoige when he sees he's upagainst de plot to ruin him, an' he gives me de fierce eye."
"Well?"
"I was wondering was I on Third Avenue, or was I standing on me coco,or what was I doin', anyhow. Den I slips off and chases meself uphere. Say, Mr. Chames, can _youse_ put me wise? What's de game?What's old man McEachern doin' stunts dis side for?"
"It's all right, Spike. Keep calm. I can explain. Mr. McEachern ownsthe house."
"On your way, Mr. Chames! What's dat?"
"This is his house we're in, now. He left the force three years ago,came over here, and bought this place. And here we are again, allgathered together under the same roof, like a jolly little familyparty."
Spike's open mouth bore witness to his amazement.
"Den all dis----"
"Belongs to him? That's it. We are his guests, Spike."
"But 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 say anything aboutit, he must come to me."
"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 on downstairs?"
"De limit, Mr. Chames. Honest, I'm on pink velvet. Dey's an oldgazebo, de butler, Keggs his name is, dat's de best ever at handingout long woids. I sit and listen. Dey calls me Mr. Mullins down dere,"said Spike, 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 willturn us out, after he's heard one or two little things I have to sayto him. Just a few reminiscences of the past which may interest him. Ihave the greatest affection for Mr. McEachern, though he did club meonce with his night stick; but nothing shall make me stir from herefor the next week at any rate."
"Not on your life," agreed Spike. "Say, Mr. Chames, he must have got alot of plunks to buy dis place. And I know how he got dem, too. Dat'sright. I comes from old New York meself."
"Hush, Spike, this is scandal!"
"Sure," said the Bowery boy doggedly, securely mounted now on hisfavorite hobby horse. "I knows, and youse knows, Mr. Chames. Gee, Iwish I'd bin a cop. But I wasn't tall enough. Dey's de fellers wit' delong green in der banks. Look at dis old McEachern. Money to boin awet dog wit', he's got, and never a bit of woik for it from de startto de finish. An' look at me, Mr. Chames."
"I do, Spike, I do."
"Look at me. Getting busy all de year round, woiking to beat de bandall----"
"In prisons oft," said Jimmy.
"Dat's right. And chased all roun' de town. And den what? Why, to debad at de end of it all. Say, it's enough to make a feller----"
"Turn honest." said Jimmy. "You've hit it, Spike. You'll be glad someday that you reformed."
But on this point Spike seemed to be doubtful. He was silent for amoment; then, as if following upon a train of thoughts, he said: "Mr.Chames, dis is a fine big house."
"Splendid!"
"Say, couldn't we----"
"Spike!" said Jimmy warningly.
"Well, couldn't we?" said Spike doggedly. "It ain't often youse buttsinto a dead-easy proposition like dis one. We shouldn't have to do at'ing excep' git busy. De stuff's just lying about, Mr. Chames."
"I have noticed it."
"Aw, it's a waste to leave it."
"Spike," said Jimmy, "I warned you of this. I begged you to be on yourguard, to fight against your professional instincts; and you must doit. I know it's hard, but it's got to be done. Try and occupy yourmind. Collect butterflies."
Spike shuffled in gloomy silence.
"'Member dose jools we got in de hotel de year before I was copped?"he asked at length irrelevantly.
Jimmy finished tying his tie, looked at the result for a moment in theglass, then replied: "Yes, I remember."
"We got anudder key dat fitted de door. 'Member dat?"
Jimmy nodded.
"And some of dose knock-out drops. What's dat? Chloryform? Dat'sright. An' we didn't do a t'ing else. An' we lived for de rest of deyear on dose jools."
Spike paused.
"Dat was to de good," he said wistfully.
Jimmy made no reply.
"Dere's a loidy here," continued Spike, addressing the chest ofdrawers, "dat's got a necklace of jools what's wort' two hundredthousand plunks."
"I know."
Silence again.
"Two hundred thousand plunks," breathed Spike.
"What a necklace!" thought Jimmy.
"Keggs told me dat. De old gazebo what hands out de long woids. Icould find out where dey're kept dead easy.'
"What a king of necklaces!" thought Jimmy.
"Shall I, Mr. Chames?"
"Shall you what?" asked Jimmy, coming out of his thoughts with astart.
"Why, find out where de loidy keeps de jools."
"Confound you, Spike! How often am I to tell you that I have done withall that sort of thing forever? I never want to see or touch anotherstone that doesn't belong to me. I don't want to hear about them. Theydon
't interest me."
"Sorry, Mr. Chames. But dey must cop de limit for fair, dose jools.Two hundred t'ousand plunks! What's dat dis side?"
"Forty thousand pounds," said Jimmy shortly. "Now, drop it."
"Yes, Mr. Chames. Can I help youse wit' de duds?"
"No, thanks. Spike; I'm through, now. You might just give me a brushdown, though, if you don't mind. Not that. That's a hair brush. Trythe big black one."
"Dis is a dude suit for fair," observed Spike, pausing in his labors.
"Glad you like it, Spike."
"It's de limit. Excuse me. How much of de long green did youse punglefor it, Mr. Chames?"
"I really can't remember," said Jimmy, with a laugh. "I could look upthe bill and let you know. Seventy guineas, I fancy."
"What's dat--guineas? Is dat more dan a pound?"
"A shilling more. Why?"
Spike resumed his brushing.
"What a lot of dude suits youse could get," he observed meditatively,"if youse had dose jools."
"Oh, _curse_ the jewels for the hundredth time!" snapped Jimmy.
"Yes, Mr. Chames. But, say, dat must be a boid of a necklace, dat one.You'll be seeing it at de dinner, Mr. Chames."
Whatever comment Jimmy might have made on this insidious statement waschecked by a sudden bang on the door. Almost simultaneously the handleturned.
"P'Chee!" 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."
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