Part 5 (2/2)
Scatters' long, graceful fingers had closed over it.
Mr. Jackson's cup of joy was now full. It had but one bitter drop to mar its sweetness. That was the friends.h.i.+p that had sprung up between the Cuban and Mr. Dunkin. They frequently exchanged visits, and sat long together engaged in conversation from which Isaac was excluded. This galled him. He felt that he had a sort of proprietary interest in his guest. And any infringement of this property right he looked upon with distinct disfavour. So that it was with no pleasant countenance that he greeted Mr. Dunkin when he called on a certain night.
”Mr. Scatters is gone out,” he said, as the old man entered and deposited his hat on the floor.
”Dat's all right, Isaac,” said Mr. Dunkin slowly, ”I didn't come to see de gent'man. I come to see you.”
The cloud somewhat lifted from Isaac's brow. Mr. Dunkin was a man of importance and it made a deal of difference whom he was visiting.
He seemed a little bit embarra.s.sed, however, as to how to open conversation. He hummed and hawed and was visibly uneasy. He tried to descant upon the weather, but the subject failed him. Finally, with an effort, he hitched his chair nearer to his host's and said in a low voice, ”Ike, I reckon you has de confidence of Mistah Scatters?”
”I has,” was the proud reply, ”I has.”
”Hum! uh! huh! Well--well--has you evah loant him any money?”
Isaac was aghast. Such impertinence!
”Mistah Dunkin,” he began, ”I considah----”
”Hol' on, Ike!” broke in Dunkin, laying a soothing hand on the other's knee, ”don' git on yo' high hoss. Dis hyeah's a impo'tant mattah.”
”I ain't got nothin' to say.”
”He ain't never tol' you 'bout havin' nothin' but Cubian money on him?”
Isaac started.
”I see he have. He tol' me de same thing.”
The two men sat staring suspiciously into each other's faces.
”He got a hun'ed an' fifty dollahs f'om me,” said Dunkin.
”I let him have fifty,” added Jackson weakly.
”He got a hun'ed an' fifty dollahs f'om thews. Dat's how I come to git 'spicious. He tol' him de same sto'y.”
Again that pregnant look flashed between them, and they both rose and went out of the house.
They hurried down to Matthews' grocery. The owner was waiting for them there. There was solemnity, but no hesitation, in the manner with which they now went to the safe. They took out the package hastily and with ruthless hands. This was no ceremonial now. The seal had no longer any fears for them. They tore it off. They tore the wrappers. Then paper.
Neatly folded paper. More wrapping paper. Newspapers. Nothing more. Of bills or bonds--nothing. With the debris of the mysterious parcel scattered about their feet, they stood up and looked at each other.
”I nevah did believe in furriners nohow,” said Mr. Dunkin sadly.
”But he knowed all about my brothah John.”
”An' he sho'ly did make mighty fine speeches. Maybe we's missed de money.” This from the grocer.
Together they went over the papers again, with the same result.
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