Part 24 (2/2)

”Oh, if you have to wear clothes, you may as well do it thoroughly. You see, it's been put into my hands, and I must go through with it,” said Tinker apologetically.

The millionaire gazed at him ruefully.

”And now,” Tinker went on, regarding him with another cold, calculating air, that of a proprietor, ”I think I'll take you to a hair-dresser, and have your hair and beard dealt with.”

”Crop away! crop away!” said the millionaire.

Tinker took him to a hair-dresser, and told the man exactly how he wanted the hair and beard cut. ”He'd make you a French American, too, if I let him,” he said to Septimus Rainer.

When the hair-dresser had done, the millionaire looked at himself in the gla.s.s with approval, and said, ”Well, I do look spick and span, though gritty; yes--sir.”

”You'll look better when you have your clothes,” said Tinker. ”And, now, I think you must want a drink.”

”That is so, sonny. This is dry work, this getting clothes.”

Tinker took him to a cafe, adorned with an American bar. Septimus Rainer lighted a cigar and refreshed himself with the whiskey sour of his native land; Tinker ate ices. Over these agreeable occupations they talked; and the millionaire derived considerable entertainment and no little instruction from his young companion's views of life on the Mediterranean littoral, ill.u.s.trated from the pa.s.sing pleasure-seekers.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Over these agreeable occupations they talked.]

When they got into the railway carriage on their return, he lighted another cigar, and lay back in the seat with the content of a man who had done a hard day's work. But presently he roused himself and said, ”I've been thinking about those kidnapping sc.u.m. They were going to ransom Dorothy for three hundred thousand dollars, you said.”

”Yes, a million and a half francs,” said Tinker.

”Well, sonny, I've been thinking I must pay you fifty thousand dollars over that business. You took a big risk holding up a gang like that.”

”It wasn't me: Selina held them up,” said Tinker quickly.

”Selina did her share, and I shan't forget it. But it was your show. I think fifty thousand dollars would be fair.”

Tinker's face went very grave. ”Thank you very much,” he said slowly, ”but I couldn't take any money for helping Dorothy out of a mess. When I've taken money for helping people, they've been strangers--like the Kernabies and Blumenruth. But Dorothy is different--quite different.”

Septimus Rainer pulled at his beard, and said in a grumbling voice, ”That's all very well, sonny; but where do I come in? You get my little girl out of a tight place--a very tight place--and you save me three hundred thousand dollars. Business is business, and I ought to pay.”

”It is rather awkward for you,” said Tinker, looking at him with a puzzled face and knitted brow. ”But I think the thing is that it wasn't business. I like Dorothy--I like her very much. She's a friend. And there can't be any business between friends, don't you know?”

”Shake, sonny,” said the millionaire, holding out his hand. ”I'm glad you and she are friends.”

Tinker shook his hand gravely.

When they came back to the hotel, at the sight of her father, Dorothy cried, ”Oh, papa, what have you been doing? You look ten years younger.

And what a nice shape your head is!”

”Yes,” said Septimus Rainer, ”I pride myself on the shape of my head.

But it's all your young friend's doing.”

”Wait till his clothes come,” said Tinker with modest pride.

”I shall look fine in those clothes, I tell you--fine,” said Septimus Rainer, and his air was almost fatuous.

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