Part 65 (1/2)
”Not eat--what, you? Say, y' ain't sick, are you?”
”Not in body, Mrs. Trapes.”
”Then why no stoo?”
”Because I shan't be here. I'm going, Mrs. Trapes--I'm leaving Mulligan's now--for good--”
”Leavin'--y' mean with Hermy?”
”No--alone. Good-by, Mrs. Trapes!”
”My land!” gasped Mrs. Trapes, ”what you tellin' me?”
”Good-by, Mrs. Trapes!”
”But why? Oh, dear Lord, what is it? Who--”
”I want to thank you--for all your kindness. Good-by!”
As one in a dream Mrs. Trapes extended a limp hand and stood wide of eye and pale of cheek to watch him go; and as he descended the stairs, her look of helpless, pained surprise went with him. Swiftly he strode across that familiar court, shoulders squared, chin outthrust, and eyes that glowed ominously in his pale face beneath fierce-scowling brows. As he turned into Tenth Avenue there met him the Spider.
”What you chasin' this time, bo?” he enquired.
”M'Ginnis.”
”Then you're sure chasin' trouble.”
”That's what I want. D' you know where he is?”
”Sure I do, but--”
The Spider paused, drawing in his breath slowly, as with experienced gaze he viewed Ravenslee's pale, set face--the delicate nostrils wide and quivering, the relentless mouth and burning eyes and all the repressed ferocity of him and, drawing back a step, the Spider shook his head.
”Bo,” said he, ”that's jest what I ain't goin' t' tell ye.”
”Very well, I must find him.”
”Don't!” said the Spider, walking on beside him, ”if I didn't think a whole lot o' ye, I'd lead ye t' him.”
”Oh--I shall find him, if it takes me all night.”
”An' if ye do, it'll be murder, I'm dead sure--”
”Murder?” said Ravenslee with a flash of white teeth. ”Well, I shall certainly kill him--this time!”
”Is it th' Kid again?”
”No--oh, no, it's just for my own satisfaction--and pleasure.”
”You ain't heeled, are ye? This ain't goin' t' be no gun-play--eh?”
”No, I haven't a gun, but I've brought his--neckerchief.”