The Definite Object Part 43

With his purchase in his pocket, Spike strode out of the shop, whistling cheerily, but the merry notes ended very suddenly as he dodged back again, yet not quite quick enough, for a rough voice hailed him, hoa.r.s.e and jovial.

"Why, h.e.l.lo, Kid, how goes it?" M'Ginnis's heavy hand descended on his shrinking shoulder and next moment he was out on the sidewalk where Soapy lounged, a smouldering cigarette pendent from his thin, pallid lips as usual. And Soapy's eyes, so bright between their narrowed, puffy lids, so old-seeming in the youthful oval of his pale face, were like his cigarette, in that they smouldered also.

"Holy smoke!" exclaimed M'Ginnis, surveying Spike up and down in mock amazement, "this ain't you, Kid--no, this sure ain't you. Looks all t'

th' company-promoter, don't he, Soapy?"

"'S' right, Kid, 's' right!" nodded the pallid youth, his smouldering eyes always turning toward M'Ginnis.

"Say, now, Bud, quit your kiddin'!" said Spike petulantly.

"But, Gee whiz!" exclaimed M'Ginnis, tightening his grasp, "you sure are some cla.s.s, Kid, in that stiff collar an' sporty tie. How's the stock market? Are ye a bull or a bear?"

"Ah, cut it out, Bud!" cried the lad, writhing.

"Right-o, Kid, right-o!" said M'Ginnis, loosing his hold. "You're comin'

over t' O'Rourke's t'night, of course?"

"Why, no, Bud--I can't."

"Oh, t' h.e.l.l wid that--I got you all fixed up to go ten rounds wid Young Alf, th' East Side Wonder--"

"What?" exclaimed Spike, his eyes bright and eager, "you got me a match wi' Young Alf? Say, Bud--you ain't stringing me, are ye?"

"Not much. I told you I'd get ye a real chance--"

"Why," cried Spike, "if I was t' lick Young Alf, I'd be in line t' meet th' top-notchers!"

"Sure--if you lick him!" nodded M'Ginnis grimly.

"Say," said Spike, his face radiant, "I've just been waitin' an'

waitin' for a chance like this--a chance t' show you an' th' bunch I can handle myself, an' now"--he stopped all at once, and shaking his head gloomily, turned away. "I forgot, I--I can't, Bud."

"Aw, what's bitin' ye?"

"I can't come t'night."

"Won't come, ye mean!"

"Can't, Bud."

"Why not?"

"I promised Hermy t' quit fightin'--"

"Is that all? Hermy don't have t' know nothin' about it. This is a swell chance for ye, Kid, the best you'll ever get, so just skin over t'night an' don't say nothin' t' n.o.body."

"I--can't, Bud--that's sure."

"Goin' t' give me d' throw-down, are ye?"

"I don't mean it that ways, Bud, but I can't break my promise t' Hermy--"

"She'd never know."

"She'd find out some ways; she always does, and I can't lie t' her."

"So you won't come, hey? We ain't cla.s.sy enough for ye these days, hey?

I guess goin' to an office every day is one thing an' crackin' a millionaire's crib's another."

"Cheese it, Bud, cheese it!" gasped Spike, pale and trembling.

"Right-o, Kid!" nodded M'Ginnis, "but I've been wantin' t' know how ye made your get-away that night."

"Oh, quit--quit talkin' of it!" Spike panted. "I--I want t' forget all about it. I been tryin' t' think it never happened."

"Ah, but you know it did," said M'Ginnis, "an' I know it, an' Soapy knows it did--don't yer, Soapy?"

"'S' right!" nodded Soapy, his voice soft, his eyes hard and malevolent.

"So we kinder want t' know," continued M'Ginnis, heedless always of those baleful watching eyes, "we just want t' get on t' how you--"

"Oh, say--give it a rest!" cried Spike desperately. "Give it a rest, can't ye?"

"Why, then, Kid, what about comin' over t' O'Rourke's t'night?"

Spike wrung his hands. "If Hermy finds out, she'll--cry, I guess--"

"Hermy!" growled M'Ginnis, black brows fierce and scowling, "a h.e.l.l of a lot you care for Hermy, I--don't think!"

"Say now, you Bud, whatcher mean?" demanded Spike, quivering with sudden anger.

"Just this, Kid--what kind of a brother are ye t' go lettin' that noo pal o' yours--that guy you call Geoff--go sneaking round her morning, noon, an' night?"

"You cut that out, Bud M'Ginnis. Geoff don't! Geoff ain't that kind."

"He don't, eh? Well, what about all this talk that's goin' on--about him an' her, an' her an' him--eh?"

"What talk?" demanded Spike, suddenly troubled.

"Why, every one's beginnin' t' notice as they're always meetin' on th'

stairs--an' him goin' into her flat, an' them talkin' an' laughin'

together when you're out o' th' way--ah," growled M'Ginnis, between grinding white teeth, "an' likely as not kissin' an' squeezin' in corners--"

"That's enough--that's enough!" cried the boy, fronting M'Ginnis, fierce-eyed. "n.o.body ain't goin' t' speak about Hermy that way."

"Y' can't help it, Kid. Here's this guy Geoff, this pal o' yours--been with her--in her flat with her, all th' mornin'--ain't he, Soapy?"

"'S' right, Kid!" nodded that pallid individual, the smouldering cigarette a-swing between pale lips; and, though he addressed Spike, his furtive eyes, watching aslant between narrowed lids, glittered to behold M'Ginnis's scowling brow; also the wolverine mouth curled faintly, so that the pendulous cigarette stirred and quivered.