Part 10 (1/2)

”Oh yes, sir,” says Nivens. ”Naturally, sir.”

”Why naturally?” says Adams.

”I'm rather interested, that's all, sir,” says Nivens.

”Oh, you are, are you?” sneers Ham. ”Come in here.”

He ain't at all bashful about acceptin' the invitation, nor our starin'

at him don't seem to get him a bit fussed. In fact, he's about the coolest appearin' member of our little trio.

Maybe some of that is due to the dead white of his face and the black hair smoothed back so slick. A cuc.u.mbery sort of person, Nivens. He has sort of a narrow face, taken bow on, but sideways it shows up clean cut and almost distinguished. Them deep-set black eyes of his give him a kind of mysterious look, too.

”Now,” says Ham Adams, squarin' off before him with his jaw set rugged, ”perhaps you will tell us why you were stretching your ear outside?”

”Wouldn't it be better, sir, if I explained privately?” suggests Nivens, glancin' at me.

”Oh, him!” says Adams. ”Never mind him.”

”Very well, sir,” says Nivens. ”I wanted to know if you were able to raise any cash. I haven't mentioned it before, but there's a matter of fifteen months' wages between us, sir, and--”

”Yes, yes, I know,” cuts in Ham. ”But yon understand my circ.u.mstances.

That will come in time.”

”I'm afraid I shall have to ask for a settlement very soon, sir,” says Nivens.

”Eh?” gasps Adams. ”Why, see here, Nivens; you've been with me for five--six years, isn't it?”

”Going on seven, sir,” says Nivens.

”And during all that time,” suggests Ham, ”I've paid you thousands of dollars.”

”I've tried to earn it all, sir,” says Nivens.

”So you have,” admits Ham. ”I suppose I should have said so before.

As a valet you're a wonder. You've got a lot of sense, too. So why insist now on my doing the impossible? You know very well I can't lay my hands on a dollar.”

”But there's your friend Mr. Ellins,” says Nivens.

Ham Adams looks over at me. ”I say,” says he, ”won't Bob stand for more than a hundred? Are you sure?”

”He only sent that in case you was sick,” says I.

”You see?” says Ham, turnin' to Nivens. ”We've got to worry along the best we can until things brighten up. I may have to sell off some of these things.”

A cold near-smile flickers across Nivens' thin lips.

”You hadn't thought of taking a position, had you, sir?” he asks insinuatin'.

”Position!” echoes Ham. ”Me? Why, I never did any kind of work--don't know how. Tell me, who do you think would give me a job at anything?”