Part 11 (1/2)
”Would you mind letting my man pa.s.s?” said Jimmy.
”Ye stay----” began McEachern.
Jimmy got up, and walked round him to the door, which he opened. Spike shot out like a rabbit released from a trap. He was not lacking in courage, but he disliked embarra.s.sing interviews, and it struck him that Mr. Chames was the man to handle a situation of this kind. He felt that he himself would only be in the way.
”Now we can talk comfortably,” said Jimmy, going back to his chair.
McEachern's deep-set eyes gleamed, and his forehead grew red; but he mastered his feelings.
”An' now,” said he, ”perhaps ye'll explain!”
”What exactly?” asked Jimmy.
”What ye're doin' here.”
”Nothing at the moment.”
”Ye know what I mane. Why are ye here, you and that red-headed devil?”
He jerked his head in the direction of the door.
”I am here because I was very kindly invited to come by your stepson.”
”I know ye.”
”You have that privilege.”
”I know ye, I say, and I want to know what ye're here to do.”
”To do? Well, I shall potter about the garden, don't you know, and smell the roses, and look at the horses, and feed the chickens, and perhaps go for an occasional row on the lake. Nothing more. Oh, yes, I believe they want me to act in these theatricals.”
”An' I'll tell ye another thing ye'll be wanted to do, and that is to go away from here at wance!”
”My dear old sir!”
”Ye hear me? At wance.”
”Couldn't think of it,” said Jimmy decidedly. ”Not for a moment.”
”I'll expose ye,” stormed McEachern. ”I'll expose ye. Will ye deny that ye was a crook in New York?”
”What proofs have you?”
”Proofs! Will you deny it?”
”No. It's quite true.”
”I knew it.”
”But I'm a reformed character, now, Mr. McEachern. I have money of my own. It was left me. I hear you had money left you, too.”