Part 9 (2/2)
”A week--a month--six months,” replied his guest sleepily. ”It's all according--”
”Accordin' to what?”
”Well--er--circ.u.mstances.”
”What circ.u.mstances?”
”Circ.u.mstances over which I have no control--yet!”
”You don't mean me?” queried Spike, with an anxious expression.
”Lord, no!”
”And you'll never tell n.o.body that I--that I--”
”Meant to be--a thief?” drawled Mr. Ravenslee. ”Not a word!”
Spike flushed, took a gulp of coffee, choked, and fell to sulky silence, while Mr. Ravenslee filled his pipe and yawned.
”Say,” demanded Spike at last, ”where'll you live while you're here?”
”Oh--somewhere, I suppose; I haven't bothered about where yet.”
”Well, I been thinkin' I know where I can fix you up--perhaps!”
”Very kind of you, Spike!”
”There's Mrs. Trapes 'cross d'landing; she lost her lodger last week--mean guy skinned off without paying d' rent--she might take you.”
”Across the landing? She'll do!” nodded Mr. Ravenslee.
”But I'm wonderin' if _you'll_ do; she's a holy terror when she likes, Geoff.”
”Across the landing? I'll put up with her!” murmured Mr. Ravenslee.
”But, say, you don't know Mrs. Trapes.”
”Not yet, Spike.”
”Well, she ain't no easy mark, Geoff! Most everybody in Mulligan's is scared of her when she cuts loose; she can talk ye deaf, dumb an'
paralysed, she can so. She sure is aces up on d' chin-music, Geoff!”
”But then she lives just opposite, and that circ.u.mstance, methinks, doth cover a mult.i.tude of--” Mr. Ravenslee yawned again.
”Anyway, it's a sure thing she won't take you if she don't like ye, Geoff.”
”Why, then, she must like me!” said Mr. Ravenslee and proceeded to light his pipe; whereupon Spike produced a box of cigarettes, but, in the act of lighting one, paused, and sighing, put it away again.
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