On With Torchy Part 29

Mr. Robert takes one look, and it almost staggers him. Next he reaches out, gets a firm grip on the gent's collar, and drags him out into a better light, twistin' the whiskered face up for a close inspection.

"Blashford!" says he, hissin' it out unpleasant. "Bunny Blashford!"

"No, no!" says the gent, tryin' to squirm away. "You--you've made a mistake."

"Not much!" says Mr. Robert. "I know those sneaking eyes of yours too well."

"All right," says he; "but--but don't hit me, Bob. Don't."

"You--you cur!" says Mr. Robert, holding him at arm's length and glarin' at him hostile.

"A ringer, eh?" says I.

"Worse than that," says Mr. Robert, "a sneaking, contemptible hound!

Trying to pa.s.s yourself off for Melly, were you?" he goes on. "Of all men, Melly! What for?"

"I--I didn't want you to know I was back," whines Bunny. "And I had to get money somehow, Bob--honest, I did."

"Bah!" says Mr. Robert. "You--you----"

But he ain't got any such vocabulary as old Hickory Ellins has; so here, when he needs it most, all he can do is express his deep disgust by shakin' this Bunny party like a new hired girl dustin' a rug. He jerks him this way and that so reckless that I was afraid he'd rattle him apart, and when he fin'lly lets loose Bunny goes all in a heap on the sidewalk. I'd never seen Mr. Robert get real wrathy before; but it's all over in a minute, and he glances around like he was ashamed.

"Hang it all!" says he, gazin' at the wreck. "I didn't mean to lay my hands on him."

"He's in punk condition," says I. "What's to be done, call an ambulance?"

That jars Mr. Robert a lot. I expect he was so worked up he didn't know how rough he was handlin' him, and my suggestin' that he's qualified Bunny for a cot sobers him down in a minute. Next thing I knows he's kneelin' over the Blashford gent and liftin' his head up.

"Here, what's the matter with you?" says Mr. Robert.

"Don't! Don't strike me again," moans Bunny, cringin'.

"No, no, I'm not going to," says Mr. Robert. "And I apologize for shaking you. But what ails you?"

"I--I'm all in," says Bunny, beginnin' to sniffle. "Don't--don't beat me! I--I'm going to die; but--but not here, like--like this. I--I don't want to live; but--but I don't want to finish this way, like a rat. Help me, Bob, to--to finish decent. I know I don't deserve it from you; but--but you wouldn't want to see me go like this--dirty and ragged? I--I want to die clean and--and well dressed. Please, Bob, for old time's sake?"

"Nonsense, man!" says Mr. Robert. "You're not going to die now."

"Yes, I am, Bob," says Bunny. "I--I can tell. I want to, anyway.

I--I'm no good. And I'm in rotten shape. Drink, you know, and I've a bad heart. I'm near starved too. It's been days since I've eaten anything--days!"

"By George!" says Mr. Robert. "Then you must have something to eat.

Here, let me help you up. Torchy, you take the other side. Steady, now! I didn't know you were in such a condition; really, I didn't.

And we'll get you filled up right away."

"I--I couldn't eat," says Bunny. "I don't want anything. I just want to quit--only--not like this; but clean, Bob, clean and dressed decent once more."

Say, maybe you can guess about how cheerin' it was, hearin' him say that over and over in that whiny, tremblin' voice of his, watchin' them s.h.i.+fty, deep-set eyes glisten gla.s.sy under the light. About as comfortin' a sight, he was, as a sick dog in a corner. And of all the rummy ideas to get in his nut--that about bein' dressed up to die! But he keeps harpin' away on it until fin'ly Mr. Robert takes notice.

"Yes, yes!" says the boss. "We'll attend to that, old man. But you need some nourishment in you first."

So we drags him over to the opposite corner, where there's a drugstore, and got a gla.s.s of hot milk under his vest. Then I calls a taxi, and we all starts for the nearest Turkish bath joint.

"That's all, Torchy," says Mr. Robert. "I won't bother you any more with this wretched business. You'd best go now."

"Suppose something happens to him?" says I. "You'll need a witness, won't you?"

"I hadn't thought of that," says he.

"There's no tellin'," says I. "Them coroners deputies are mostly boneheads. I'd better stay on the job."

"I know of no one I'd rather have, Torchy," says he.

Course, he was stretchin' it there. But we fixes it up that while Bunny is bein' soaked out I'll have time to pluck some eats. Meanwhile Mr. Robert will 'phone his man to dig out one of his old dress suits, with fixin's, which I'm to collect and have waitin' for Blashford.

"Better have him barbered some too, hadn't I?" says I.

"A lot," says Mr. Robert, slippin' me a couple of tens for expenses.

"And when he's all ready call me at the club."

So, take it all around, I has quite some busy evenin'. I stayed long enough to see Bunny wrapped in a sheet and helped into the steam-room, and then I hustles out for a late dinner. It's near nine-thirty before I rings Mr. Robert up again, and reports that Bunny would pa.s.s a Board of Health inspection now that he's had the face herbage removed, that he's costumed proper and correct, and that he's decided not to die immediate.

"Very well," says Mr. Robert. "What does he want to do now?"

"He wants to talk to you," says I.

"The deuce he does!" says Mr. Robert. "Well, I suppose we might as well have it out; so bring him up here."

That's how it happens I'm rung in on this little club corner chat; for Mr. Robert explains that whatever pa.s.ses between 'em it might be as well to have someone else hear.

And, say, what a diff'rence a little outside upholstery can make, eh?

The steamin' out had helped some, I expect, and a couple more gla.s.ses of hot milk had braced him up too; but blamed if I'd expect just a shave and a few open-face clothes could change a human ruin into such a perky lookin' gent as this that leans back graceful against the leather cus.h.i.+ons and lights up one of Mr. Robert's imported cigarettes.

Course, the eye hollows hadn't been filled in, nor the face wrinkles ironed out; but somehow they only gives him a sort of a distinguished look. And now that his shoulders ain't slumped, and he's holdin' his chin up once more, he's almost ornamental. He don't even seem embarra.s.sed at meetin' Mr. Robert again. If anyone was fussed, it was the boss.

"Well?" says he, as we gets settled in the cozy corner.

"Seems natural as life here; eh, Bob?" says Bunny, glancin' around approvin'. "And it's nearly four years since I--er----"

"Since you were kicked out," adds Mr. Robert. "See here, Bunny--just because I've helped you out of the gutter when I thought you were half dead, don't run away with the idea that I've either forgotten or forgiven!"

"Oh, quite so," says he. "I'm not asking that."

"Then you've no excuse," goes on Mr. Robert, "for the sneaking, cowardly way in which you left little Sally Slater waiting in her bridal gown, the house full of wedding guests, while you ran off with that unspeakable DeBrett person?"

"No," says Bunny, flippin' his cigarette ashes off jaunty, "no excuse worthy of the name."

"Cad!" says Mr. Robert.

Bunny shrugs his shoulders. "Precisely," says he. "But you are not making the discovery for the first time, are you? You knew Sally was far too good for me. Everyone did, even Brother Melly. It couldn't have been much of a secret to either of you how deep I was with the DeBrett too. Yet you wanted me to go on with Sally. Why? Because the governor hadn't chucked me overboard then, because I could still keep up a front?"