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"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."
CHAPTER XI
AT THE TURN OF THE ROAD
Next morning, when Jimmy, having sent Spike off to the tailor's, with instructions to get a haircut en route, was dealing with a combination of breakfast and luncheon at his flat, Lord Dreever called.
"Thought I should find you in," observed his lords.h.i.+p. "Well, laddie, how goes it? Having breakfast? Eggs and bacon! Great Scott!
I couldn't touch a thing."
The statement was borne out by his looks. The son of a hundred earls was pale, and his eyes were markedly fish-like.
"A fellow I've got stopping with me--taking him down to Dreever with me to-day--man I met at the club--fellow named Hargate. Don't know if you know him? No? Well, he was still up when I got back last night, and we stayed up playing billiards--he's rotten at billiards; something frightful: I give him twenty--till five this morning. I feel fearfully cheap. Wouldn't have got up at all, only I'm due to catch the two-fifteen down to Dreever. It's the only good train." He dropped into a chair.
"Sorry you don't feel up to breakfast," said Jimmy, helping himself to marmalade. "I am generally to be found among those lining up when the gong goes. I've breakfasted on a gla.s.s of water and a bag of bird-seed in my time. That sort of thing makes you ready to take whatever you can get. Seen the paper?"
"Thanks."
Jimmy finished his breakfast, and lighted a pipe. Lord Dreever laid down the paper.
"I say," he said, "what I came round about was this. What have you got on just now?"
Jimmy had imagined that his friend had dropped in to return the five-pound note he had borrowed, but his lords.h.i.+p maintained a complete reserve on the subject. Jimmy was to discover later that this weakness of memory where financial obligations were concerned was a leading trait in Lord Dreever's character.
"To-day, do you mean?" said Jimmy.
"Well, in the near future. What I mean is, why not put off that j.a.pan trip you spoke about, and come down to Dreever with me?"
Jimmy reflected. After all, j.a.pan or Dreever, it made very little difference. And it would be interesting to see a place about which he had read so much.
"That's very good of you," he said. "You're sure it will be all right? It won't be upsetting your arrangements?"
"Not a bit. The more the merrier. Can you catch the two-fifteen?
It's fearfully short notice."
"Heavens, yes. I can pack in ten minutes. Thanks very much."
"Good business. There'll be shooting and all that sort of rot. Oh, and by the way, are you any good at acting? I mean, there are going to be private theatricals of sorts. A man called Charteris insisted on getting them up--always getting up theatricals. Rot, I call it; but you can't stop him. Do you do anything in that line?"
"Put me down for what you like, from Emperor of Morocco to Confused Noise Without. I was on the stage once. I'm particularly good at s.h.i.+fting scenery."
"Good for you. Well, so long. Two-fifteen from Paddington, remember.
I'll meet you there. I've got to go and see a fellow now."
"I'll look out for you."
A sudden thought occurred to Jimmy. Spike! He had forgotten Spike for the moment. It was vital that the Bowery boy should not be lost sight of again. He was the one link with the little house somewhere beyond One Hundred and Fiftieth Street. He could not leave the Bowery boy at the flat. A vision rose in his mind of Spike alone in London, with Savoy Mansions as a base for his operations. No, Spike must be transplanted to the country. But Jimmy could not seem to see Spike in the country. His boredom would probably be pathetic. But it was the only way.
Lord Dreever facilitated matters.
"By the way, Pitt," he said, "you've got a man of sorts, of course?
One of those frightful fellows who forgot to pack your collars?
Bring him along, of course."
"Thanks," said Jimmy. "I will."
The matter had scarcely been settled when the door opened, and revealed the subject of discussion. Wearing a broad grin of mingled pride and bashfulness, and looking very stiff and awkward in one of the brightest tweed suits ever seen off the stage, Spike stood for a moment in the doorway to let his appearance sink into the spectator, then advanced into the room.
"How do dese strike you, boss?" he inquired genially, as Lord Dreever gaped in astonishment at this bright being.
"Pretty nearly blind, Spike," said Jimmy. "What made you get those?
We use electric light here."
Spike was full of news.
"Say, boss, dat clothin'-store's a w.i.l.l.y wonder, sure. De old mug what showed me round give me de frozen face when I come in foist.
'What's doin'?' he says. 'To de woods wit' you. Git de hook!' But I hauls out de plunks you give me, an' tells him how I'm here to get a dude suit, an', gee! if he don't haul out suits by de mile. Give me a toist, it did, watching him. 'It's up to youse,' says de mug.
'Choose somet'in'. You pays de money, an' we does de rest.' So, I says dis is de one, an' I put down de plunks, an' here I am, boss."
"I noticed that, Spike," said Jimmy. "I could see you in the dark."
"Don't you like de duds, boss?" inquired Spike, anxiously.
"They're great," said Jimmy. "You'd make Solomon in all his glory look like a tramp 'cyclist."
"Dat's right," agreed Spike. "Dey'se de limit."
And, apparently oblivious to the presence of Lord Dreever, who had been watching him in blank silence since his entrance, the Bowery boy proceeded to execute a mysterious shuffling dance on the carpet.
This was too much for the overwrought brain of his lords.h.i.+p.
"Good-bye, Pitt," he said, "I'm off. Got to see a man."
Jimmy saw his guest to the door.
Outside, Lord Dreever placed the palm of his right hand on his forehead.
"I say, Pitt," he said.