Part 27 (1/2)
”Oh, yes. I knew Tom from the old _New Pork Herald_ days, and when I first met him with Jessie hanging on his arm he was quite proud to introduce her to a poet. When he got on he tried to shake me off.”
”You should have repaid him what you borrowed.”
”It--it--was only a trifle,” stammered Denzil.
”Yes, but the world turns on trifles,” said the wise Wimp.
”The world is itself a trifle,” said the pensive poet. ”The Beautiful alone is deserving of our regard.”
”And when the Beautiful was not gossiping with her landlady, did she gossip with you as you pa.s.sed the door?”
”Alas, no! She sat in her room reading, and cast a shadow--”
”On your life?”
”No; on the blind.”
”Always one shadow?”
”No, sir. Once or twice, two.”
”Ah, you had been drinking.”
”On my life, not. I have sworn off the treacherous wine-cup.”
”That's right. Beer is bad for poets. It makes their feet shaky. Whose was the second shadow?”
”A man's.”
”Naturally. Mortlake's, perhaps.”
”Impossible. He was still striking eight hours.”
”You found out whose shadow? You didn't leave a shadow of doubt?”
”No; I waited till the substance came out.”
”It was Arthur Constant.”
”You are a magician! You--you terrify me. Yes, it was he.”
”Only once or twice, you say?”
”I didn't keep watch over them.”
”No, no, of course not. You only pa.s.sed casually. I understand you thoroughly.”
Denzil did not feel comfortable at the a.s.sertion.
”What did he go there for?” Wimp went on.