Part 26 (2/2)

He said he had missed his train on the previous day, and being a superst.i.tious man he regarded that as an augury of evil. Nevertheless he had resolved to take the stuff even at a price that was ruinous. He unfolded two hundred dollars in the presence of Clem, and wished to know if he might send a wagon at once. Clem brought back word from Miss Caroline, who had declined to appear, that the strange gentleman would oblige her by ceasing his remarkable intrusions. Whereupon the gentleman had said: ”Oh, very _well_! Then I go!”

But he went no farther than the City Hotel; and here one may note a further contrivance of indirection on the part of our attending Fates.

From the evening train of that day the 'bus brought another strange gentleman, of an Eastern manner, but somewhat neater of dress than the first one and speaking with an accent much less obtrusive. This gentleman wrote ”James Walsingham Price, N.Y.,” on the register, called for a room with a bath, ordered ”coffee and rolls” to be sent there at eight-thirty the next morning, and then asked to see the ”dinner card.”

After mine host, Jake Kilburn, had been made to understand what ”dinner card” meant, he made Mr. James Walsingham Price understand that there was no dinner card. This being clear at last, the newcomer said: ”Oh, _very_ well! Then just give my order to the head-waiter, will you--there's a good chap--a cup of consomme, a bit of fish, a bird of some sort, broiled, I fancy,--er--potatoes _au gratin_, a green salad of some kind,--serve that with the bird,--a piece of Camembert, if it's in good condition, any _entremet_ you have and a _demi-ta.s.se_. I'll mix the salad dressing myself, tell him,--oh, yes--and a pint of Chambertin if you've something you can recommend.”

Billy Durgin, scrutinizing the newcomer in a professional way, told me afterwards that Jake Kilburn ”batted his eyes” during this strange speech and replied to it, ”like a man coming to”--”supper in twenty minutes,” after which he pounded a bell furiously and then himself showed his new and puzzling guest to a room--but not a room ”with a bath,” be it understood, for a most excellent reason.

Billy Durgin was excited half an hour later by noting the behavior of the first strange gentleman from the East as his eyes fell upon this second. He threw both hands into the air, where they engaged in rapid horizontal shakings from his pliant wrists, and in hushed gutturals exclaimed, ”My G.o.d, my G.o.d!” in his own fas.h.i.+on of speech, which was reproduced admirably for me by my informant. Billy was thus confirmed in his earlier belief that the first strange gentleman was a house-breaker badly wanted somewhere, and he now surmised that the newcomer must be a detective on his trail. But a close watch on their meeting, a little later in the evening, seemed to contradict this engaging hypothesis. The second stranger emerged from the dining room, where he had been served with supper, and as he shut the door of that banqueting hall, Billy, standing by, heard him, too, call upon his Maker. He called only once, but it was in a voice so full of feeling as to make Billy suspect that he was remembering something unpleasant.

At this point the newcomer had glanced up to behold the first strange gentleman, and Billy held his breath, expecting to witness a sensational capture. To his unspeakable disgust the supposed sleuth grinned affably at his supposed quarry and said: ”Ah, Hyman! Is the stuff any good?”

”How did you find it out?” asked the first strange gentleman.

The other smiled winningly. ”Why, I dropped into your place the other day, and that beautiful daughter-in-law of yours mentioned incidentally where you'd gone and what for. She's a good soul, Hyman, bright, and as chatty as she can be.”

”Ach! That Malke! She goes back right off to De Lancey Street, where she belongs,” said the first stranger, plainly irritated.

”How did you find the stuff, Hyman?”

”Have you et your supper yet?”

”Yes--'tisn't Kosher, is it? How did you find the stuff?”

”No, it ain't Kosher--nothing ain't Kosher!”

”It's a devilish sight worse, though. How did you find the stuff, Hyman?”

The one called Hyman here seemed to despair of putting off this query.

”No good! No good!--not a decent piece in the lot! I pledge you my word as a gentleman I wouldn't pay the freight on it to Fourth Avenue!” Billy remarked that the gentleman said ”pletch” for pledge and ”afanoo” for avenue.

The second stranger, hearing this, at once became strangely cheerful and insisted upon shaking hands with the first one.

”Fine, Hyman, fine! I'm delighted to hear you say so. Your words lift a load of doubt from my mind. It came to me in there just now that I might be incurring that supper for nothing but my sins!”

”Have your choke,” said Hyman, a little bitterly.

”I have, Hyman, I have had my 'choke'!” said James Walsingham Price, with a glance of disrelish toward the dining room.

It seemed clear to Billy Durgin, who reported this interview to me in a manner of able realism, that these men were both crooks of the first water.

Billy at once polished his star and cleaned and oiled his new 32-caliber ”bull-dog.” The promise of work ahead for the right man loomed more brightly than ever before in his exciting career.

While I discussed with Miss Caroline, that evening, the unpleasant mystery of her late caller, there came a note from him by messenger. He offered six hundred and twenty-one dollars for her furniture, the sum being written in large letters, so that it had the effect of being shouted from the page. He further expressed a wish to close the deal within the half hour, as he must leave town on the night train.

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