The Definite Object Part 42

"Goin' to be hotter."

"Afraid so."

"Rough on th' kiddies, an' ice goin' up. Which reminds me I sent on the mixture you ordered for little Hazel Bowker."

"Good," nodded Ravenslee.

"And the pills to Mrs. Sims."

"Good again."

"An' the sleeping-draught for old Martin Finlay."

"Good once more."

"Won't last long, old Martin, I guess. Never been the same since little Maggie drowned herself, poor child. What d'ye want this morning?"

"First to pay for the medicine," said Ravenslee, laying a five-dollar bill on the counter, "and then the use of your 'phone."

"Right there," said the chemist, nodding toward a certain shady corner, where, remote from all intruding bustle, was a telephone booth into which Ravenslee stepped forthwith and where ensued the following one-sided conversation:

Ravenslee. "h.e.l.lo!"

Telephone. "Buzz!"

Ravenslee. "h.e.l.lo, Central, give me Thirty-three Wall, please."

Telephone. "Ting-a-ling--buzz!"

Ravenslee. "d.a.m.n this 'phone--what? No, I said Double-three Wall."

Telephone. "Buzz! Ting! Zut!"

Ravenslee. "Sounded different, did it? Well, I want--"

Telephone. "Buzz! Zut! Ting!"

Ravenslee. "Thanks. h.e.l.lo, that Thirty-three Wall? Dana and Anderson's Office? Good! I want to speak with Mr. Anderson--say Mr.

Ravenslee."

Telephone. "Zing!"

Ravenslee. "Thanks. That you, Anderson?"

Telephone. "Pang!"

Ravenslee. "Thanks--very well! What the devil's wrong with this instrument of torment--can you hear me?"

Telephone. "Crack!"

Ravenslee. "Good! Yes--that's better! Now listen; I want you to do some business for me. No, I'm buying, not selling. I'm going into real estate. What, a bad speculation? Well, anyway, I'm buying tenement property in Tenth Avenue, known as Mulligan's, I believe. Oh, you've heard of it, eh? Not in the market? Not for sale? Well, I'll buy it. Oh, yes, you can--what d' you suppose is his figure? So much? Phew! Oh, well, double it. No, I'm not mad, Anderson. No, nor drunk--I just happen to want Mulligan's--and I'll have it. When can you put the deal through?

Oh, nonsense, make him sell at once--get him on the 'phone. Oh, yes, he will, if you offer enough--Mulligan would sell his mother--at his own price. You quite understand--at once, mind! All right, good-by. No, I'm not mad--nor drunk, man; I haven't tasted a c.o.c.ktail for a month. Eh--go and get one? I will!"

So saying, Ravenslee hung up the receiver and hastened out of the stifling heat of the suffocating booth, mopping perspiring brow.

"You look kinder warm!" ventured the chemist.

"I feel it."

"And it's going to be warmer. Try an ice-cream soda--healthy and invigorating."

"And better than any c.o.c.ktail on such a day!"

"I guess! Take one?"

"Thank you, yes."

So the bright-eyed chemist mixed the beverage and handed it over the counter.

"Chin-chin!" he nodded.

"Twice," said Ravenslee, lifting the long gla.s.s. "To the Beautiful City of Perhaps!" and he drank deep.

"Say," said the chemist, staring, "that sounds t' me like a touch of the sun. Try a bottle of my summer mixture, good for sunstroke, heat-b.u.mps, colic, spasms, and h.e.l.l's Kitchen generally--try a bottle?"

"Thanks," said Ravenslee, "I will." And grimly pocketing the bottled panacea, he stepped out into the hot and noisy avenue.

CHAPTER XVIII

HOW SPIKE HEARKENED TO POISONOUS SUGGESTION AND SOAPY BEGAN TO WONDER

Spike was on his way from the office, very conscious of his new straw hat and immaculate collar; his erstwhile shabby suit had been cleaned and pressed by Hermione's skilled and loving fingers, hence Spike turned now and then as he pa.s.sed some shop window to observe the general effect with furtive eye; and stimulated by his unwontedly smart appearance, he whistled joyously as he betook himself homeward. Moreover in his breast pocket was his pay envelope, not very bulky to be sure, wherein lay his first week's wages, and as often as he turned to glance at the tilt of the straw hat or heed the set of his tie, his hand must needs steal to this envelope to make sure of its safety. His fingers were so employed when he chanced to espy a certain article exposed for sale in an adjacent shop window; whereupon, envelope in hand, he incontinent entered and addressed the plump Semitic merchant in his usual easy manner.

"Greetings, Abe! I'll take one o' them hair-combs."

"Hair-gombs?" nodded the merchant. "Vot kind?"

"What kind? Why, the best you got."

"Ve got 'em up to veefty dollars--"

"Come off it, Cain, come off--I ain't purchasin' a diamond aigrette to-day, it's a lady's hair-comb I want--good, but not too flossy-lookin'--savvy that? This'll do, I guess--how much? Right there!"

said Spike, flicking a bill upon the counter. "That's it, stick it in a box--oh, never mind th' wrappin's. S'long, Daniel!"