The Intrusion of Jimmy by P. G. Wodehouse (e book reader .txt) 📕

"You'll want some clothes," said Jimmy. "We'll get those to-morrow. You're the sort of figure they can fit off the peg. You're not too tall, which is a good thing."

"Bad t'ing fer me, boss. If I'd been taller, I'd have stood fer being a cop, an' bin buyin' a brownstone house on Fifth Avenue by dis. It's de cops makes de big money in little old Manhattan, dat's who it is."

"The man who knows!" said Jimmy. "Tell me more, Spike. I suppose a good many of the New York force do get rich by graft?"

"Sure. Look at old man McEachern."

"I wish I could. Tell me about him, Spike. You seemed to know him pretty well."

"Me? Sure. Dere wasn't a woise old grafter dan him in de bunch. He was out fer de dough all de time. But, say, did youse ever see his girl?"

"What's that?" said Jimmy, sharply.

"I seen her once." Spike became almost lyrical in his enthusiasm. "Gee! She was a boid—a peach fer fair. I'd have left me happy home fer her. Molly was her monaker. She—"

Jimmy was glaring at him.

"Cut it out!" he cried.

"What's dat, boss?" said Spike.

"Cut it out!" said Jimmy, savagely.

Spike looked at him, amazed.

"Sure," he said, puzzled, but realizing that his words had not pleased the great man.

Jimmy chewed the stem of his pipe irritably, while Spike, full of excellent intentions, sat on the edge of his chair, drawing sorrowfully at his cigar and wondering what he had done to give offense.

"Boss?" said Spike.

"Well?"

"Boss, what's doin' here? Put me next to de game. Is it de old lay? Banks an' jools from duchesses? You'll be able to let me sit in at de game, won't you?"

Jimmy laughed.

"I'd quite forgotten I hadn't told you about myself, Spike. I've retired."

The horrid truth sank slowly into the other's mind.

"Say! What's dat, boss? You're cuttin' it out?"

"That's it. Absolutely."

"Ain't youse swiping no more jools?"

"Not me."

"Nor usin' de what's-its-name blow-pipe?"

"I have sold my oxy-acetylene blow-pipe, given away my anaesthetics, and am going to turn over a new leaf, and settle down as a respectable citizen."

Spike gasped. His world had fallen about his ears. His excursion with. Jimmy, the master cracksman, in New York had been the highest and proudest memory of his life; and, now that they had met again in London, he had looked forward to a long and prosperous partnership in crime. He was content that his own share in the partnership should be humble. It was enough for him to be connected, however humbly, with such a master. He had looked upon the richness of London, and he had said with Blucher, "What a city to loot!"

And here was his idol shattering the visions with a word.

"Have another drink, Spike," said the lost leader sympathetically. "It's a shock to you, I guess."

"I t'ought, boss—"

"I know, I know. These are life's tragedies. I'm very sorry for you. But it can't be helped. I've made my pile, so why continue?"

Spike sat silent, with a long face. Jimmy slapped him on the shoulder.

"Cheer up," he said. "How do you know that living honestly may not be splendid fun? Numbers of people do it, you know, and enjoy themselves tremendously. You must give it a trial, Spike."

"Me, boss! What, me, too?"

"Sure. You're my link with—I don't want to have you remembering that address in the second month of a ten-year stretch at Dartmoor Prison. I'm going to look after you, Spike, my son, like a lynx. We'll go out together, and see life. Brace up, Spike. Be cheerful. Grin!"

After a moment's reflection, the other grinned, albeit faintly.

"That's right," said Jimmy. "We'll go into society, Spike, hand in hand. You'll be a terrific success in society. All you have to do is to look cheerful, brush your hair, and keep your hands off the spoons. For in the best circles they invariably count them after the departure of the last guest."

"Sure," said Spike, as one who thoroughly understood this sensible precaution.

"And, now," said Jimmy, "we'll be turning in. Can you manage sleeping on the sofa one night? Some fellows would give their bed up to you. Not me, however. I'll have a bed made up for you tomorrow."

"Me!" said Spike. "Gee! I've been sleepin' in de Park all de last week. Dis is to de good, boss."