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Intrusion of Jimmy

Page 25

by Intrusion Of Jimmy


  CHAPTER XXX

  CONCLUSION

  The American liner, St. Louis, lay in the Empress Dock at

  Southampton, taking aboard her passengers. All sorts and conditions

  of men flowed in an unceasing stream up the gangway.

  Leaning over the second-class railing, Jimmy Pitt and Spike Mullins

  watched them thoughtfully.

  Jimmy looked up at the Blue Peter that fluttered from the fore-mast,

  and then at Spike. The Bowery boy's face was stolid and

  expressionless. He was smoking a short wooden pipe with an air of

  detachment.

  "Well, Spike," said Jimmy. "Your schooner's on the tide now, isn't

  it? Your vessel's at the quay. You've got some queer-looking fellow-

  travelers. Don't miss the two Cingalese sports, and the man in the

  turban and the baggy breeches. I wonder if they're air-tight. Useful

  if he fell overboard."

  "Sure," said Spike, directing a contemplative eye toward the garment

  in question. "He knows his business."

  "I wonder what those men on the deck are writing. They've been

  scribbling away ever since we came here. Probably, society

  journalists. We shall see in next week's papers: 'Among the second-

  class passengers, we noticed Mr. "Spike" Mullins, looking as cheery

  as ever.' It's a pity you're so set on. going, Spike. Why not change

  your mind, and stop?"

  For a moment, Spike looked wistful. Then, his countenance resumed

  its woodenness. "Dere ain't no use for me dis side, boss," he said.

  "New York's de spot. Youse don't want none of me, now you're

  married. How's Miss Molly, boss?"

  "Splendid, Spike, thanks. We're going over to France by to-night's

  boat."

  "It's been a queer business," Jimmy continued, after a pause, "a

  deuced-queer business! Still, I've come very well out of it, at any

  rate. It seems to me that you're the only one of us who doesn't end

  happily, Spike. I'm married. McEachern's butted into society so deep

  that it would take an excavating party with dynamite to get him out

  of it. Molly--well, Molly's made a bad bargain, but I hope she won't

  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.

  End of Project Gutenberg's The Intrusion of Jimmy, by P.G. Wodehouse

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