Part 25 (1/2)
Paul laughed. ”In that case--”
”You'll be most welcome,” said Mr. Finn. ”This way.”
He went ahead with Barney Bill, whose queer side limp awoke poignant memories of the Bludston brickfield. Paul followed with Jane.
”And what have you been doing?” he asked.
”Typewriting. Then Bill came across Mr. Finn, whom he hadn't seen for years, and got me the position of secretary. Otherwise I've been doing nothing particular.”
”If you knew what a hunt I had years ago to find you,” he said, and began to explain the set of foolish circ.u.mstances when they turned the corner of the drill hall and found a four-wheeled cab waiting.
”I had already engaged it for my friends and myself,” Mr. Finn explained. ”Will you get in?”
Jane and Paul and Mr. Finn entered the cab. Barney Bill, who liked air and for whom the raw November night was filled apparently with balmy zephyrs, clambered in his crablike way next the driver. They started.
”What induced you to come to-night?” Paul asked.
”We saw the announcement in the newspapers,” replied Jane. ”Barney Bill said the Mr. Paul Savelli could be no one else but you. I said it couldn't.”
”Why?” he asked sharply.
”There are heaps of people of the same name.”
”But you didn't think I was equal to it?”
She laughed a short laugh. ”That's just how you used to talk. You haven't changed much.”
”I hope I haven't,” replied Paul earnestly. ”And I don't think you've changed either.”
”Very little has happened to change me,” said Jane.
The cab lumbered on through dull, dimly lit, residential roads. Only by the swinging gleam of an occasional street lamp could Paul distinguish the faces of his companions. ”I hope you're on our side, Mr. Finn,” he said politely to his host, who sat on the small back seat.
”I don't disagree with much that you said to-night. But you are on the side of wealth and aristocracy. I am on the side of the downtrodden and oppressed.”
”But so am I,” cried Paul. ”The work of every day of my life tends to help them.”
”You're a Conservative and I'm a Radical.”
”What do labels matter? We're both attacking the same problem, only from different angles.”
”Very likely, Mr. Savelli; but you'll pardon me if, according to my political creed, I regard your angle as an obtuse one.”
Paul wondered greatly who he could be, this grave, intelligent friend of Barney Bill's, who spoke with such dignity and courtesy. In his speech was a trace of rough accent; but his words were chosen with precision.
”You think we glance off, whereas your attack is more direct,” laughed Paul.
”That is so. I hope you don't mind my saying it. You were the challenger.”
”I was. But anyhow we're not going to be enemies.”