The Sleuth of St. James's Square by Melville Davisson Post (black authors fiction txt) 📕

been talking about. He was my chair attendant, but I hadn't looked at him before. He had moved round from behind me and was now leaning against the galvanized pipe railing.

“He was a big human creature, a little stooped, unshaved and dirty; his mouth was slack and loose, and he had a big mobile nose that seemed to move about like a piece of soft rubber. He had hardly any clothing; a cap that must have been fished out of an ash barrel, no shirt whatever, merely an old ragged coat buttoned round him, a pair of canvas breeches and carpet slippers tied on to his feet with burlap, and wrapped round his ankles to conceal the fact that he wore no socks.

“As I looked at him he darted out, picked up the stump of a cigarette that some one had thrown down, and came back to the railing to smoke it, his loose mouth and his big soft nose moving like kneaded putty.

“Altogether this tramp was the worst human derelict I ever saw. And it occurred to me that this was the one place in the whole of America where any sort of a creature could get a kind of employment and no questions asked.

“Anything that could move and push a chair could get fifteen cents an hour from McDuyal. Wise man, poor man, beggar man, thief, it was all one to McDuyal. And the creatures could sleep in the shed behind the rolling chairs.

“I suppose an impulse to offer the man a garment of some sort moved me to address him.

“'You're nearly naked,' I said.

“He crossed one leg over the other with the toe of the carpet slipper touching the walk, in the manner of a burlesque actor, took the cigarette out of his mouth with a little flourish, and replied to me:

“'Sure, Governor, I ain't dolled up like John Drew.'

“There was a sort of cocky unconcern about the creature that gave his miserable state a kind of beggarly distinction. He was in among the very dregs of life, and he was not depressed about it.

“'But if I had a sawbuck,” he continued, “I could bulge your eye .... Couldn't point the way to one?'

“He arrested my answer with the little flourish of his fingers holding the stump of the cigarette.

“'Not work, Governor,' and he made a little duck of his head, 'and not murder.... Go as far as you please between 'em.'

“The fantastic manner of the derelict was infectious.

“'O. K.' I said. 'Go out and find me a man who is a deserter from the German Army, was a tanner in Bale and began life as a sailor, and I'll double your money—I'll give you a twenty-dollar bill.'

“The creature whistled softly in two short staccato notes.

“'Some little order,' he said. And taking a toothpick out of his pocket he stuck it into the stump of the cigarette which had become too short to hold between his fingers.

“At this moment a boy from the post office came to me with the daily report from Washington, and I got out of the chair, tipped the creature, and went into the hotel, stopping to pay McDuyal as I passed.

“There was nothing new from the department except that our organization over the country was in close touch. We had offered five thousand dollars reward for the recovery of the plates, and the Post Office Department was now posting the notice all over America in every office. The Secretary thought we had better let the public in on it and not keep it an underground offer to the service.

“I had forgotten the hobo, when about five o'clock he passed me a little below the Steel Pier. He was in a big stride and he had something clutched in his hand.

“He called to me as he hurried along: 'I got him, Governor.... See you later!'

“'See me now,' I said. 'What's the hurry?'

“He flashed his hand open, holding a silver dollar with his thumb against the palm.

“'Can't stop now, I'm going to get drunk. See you later.'

“I smiled at this disingenuous creature. He was saving me for the dry hour. He could point out Mulehaus in any passing chair, and I would give some coin to be rid of his pretension.”

Walker paused. Then he went on:

“I was right. The hobo was waiting for me when I came out of the hotel the following morning.

“'Howdy, Governor,' he said; 'I located your man.'

“I was interested to see how he would frame up his case.

“'How did you find him?' I said.

“He grinned, moving his lip and his loose nose.

“'Some luck, Governor, and some sleuthin'. It was like this: I thought you was stringin' me. But I said to myself I'll keep out an eye; maybe it's on the level—any damn thing can happen.'

“He put up his hand as though to hook his thumb into the armhole of his vest, remembered that he had only a coat buttoned round him and dropped it.

“'And believe me or not, Governor, it's the God's truth. About four o'clock up toward the Inlet I passed a big, well-dressed, banker-looking gent walking stiff from the hip and throwing out his leg. “Come eleven!” I said to myself. “It's the goosestep!” I had an empty roller, and I took a turn over to him.'

“'"Chair, Admiral?” I said.

“'He looked at me sort of queer.

“'"What makes you think I'm an admiral, my man?” he answers.

“Well,” I says, lounging over on one foot reflective like, “nobody could be a-viewin' the sea with that lovin', ownership look unless he'd bossed her a bit.... If I'm right, Admiral, you takes the chair.”

“'He laughed, but he got in. “I'm not an admiral,” he said, “but it is true that I've followed the sea.”

“The hobo paused, and put up his first and second fingers spread like a V.

“'Two points, Governor—the gent had been a sailor and a soldier; now how about the tanner business?

“He scratched his head, moving his ridiculous cap.

“'That sort of puzzled me, and I pussyfooted along toward the Inlet thinkin' about it. If a man was a tanner, and especially a foreign, hand-workin' tanner, what would his markin's be?

“'I tried to remember everybody that I'd ever seen handlin' a hide, and all at once I recollected that the first thing a dago shoemaker done when he picked up a piece of leather was to smooth it out with his thumbs. An' I said to myself, now that'll be what a tanner does, only he does it more.... he's always doin' it. Then I asks myself what would be the