The Definite Object Part 6

"You are luckier than I; there isn't a soul in the world to do as much for me."

Spike gulped audibly and, thereafter, sniffed.

"Now suppose," said Mr. Ravenslee, "let us suppose she found out that the brother she loved so much was a--thief?"

Hereupon Spike unrolled his cap and proceeded to rub his eyes with it, and, when at last he spoke, it was in a voice broken by great sobs.

"Say--cut it out--cut it out! I never meant to--to do it. They got me soused--doped me, I think, else I'd never have done it. I ain't good, but I ain't so rotten bad as--what I seem. I ain't no real crook, but if you wanter croak me for what I done--go ahead! Only don't--don't let d'

cops get me, 'cause o' Hermy. If you croak me, she'll think I got it in a sc.r.a.p, maybe; so if you wanter plug me, go ahead!"

"But what are you shivering for?"

"I--I'm just waitin', sir," answered Spike, closing his eyes, "I--I seen a guy shot once!"

Mr. Ravenslee sighed and nodded.

"After all," said he, "I don't think I'll croak you," and he slipped the revolver into his pocket while Spike watched him in sudden tense eagerness.

"What yer mean to do wi' me?" he asked.

"That's the question; what shall I do with you? Let me think."

"Say," cried the boy eagerly, "you don't have to do no thinkin'--leave it all to me! It's de winder for mine; I'll chase meself quick--"

"No you don't! Sit down--sit down, I say!"

Spike sighed and seated himself on the extreme edge of the chair his captor indicated.

"Won't yer lemme beat it, sir?" he pleaded.

"No, some one else might catch you next time and have the pleasure of--er--croaking you or handing you over to the police--"

"There won't be no next time, sir!" cried Spike eagerly. "I'll never do it no more--I'll cut d' whole gang, I'll give Bud M'Ginnis d'

throw-down--on d' dead level I will, if you'll only let me--"

"Who's Bud M'Ginnis?"

"Say," exclaimed the boy, staring, "don't yer know that? Why, Bud's d' main squeeze with d' gang, d' whole cheese, he is--an' he kind o'

thinks I'm d' candy-kid 'cause he's stuck on me sister--".

"Ah!" nodded Mr. Ravenslee, frowning a little, "and is she--er--stuck on him?"

"Not so as you could notice it, she ain't! No, she can't see Bud with a pair of opry-gla.s.ses, an' he's a dead game sport, too! Oh, there ain't no flies on Bud, an' n.o.body can lick him, either; but Hermy don't cotton none, she hasn't got no use for him, see? But say--" Spike rose tentatively and looked on his captor with eyes big and supplicating.

"Well, what now?"

"Why, I thought if you was tired of me chewing d' rag and wanted to hit the feathers, I'd just cop a sneak. See, if you'll only lemme go, I'll do d' square thing and get a steady job like Hermy wants me to--honest, I will, sir! Y' see, me sister's away to-night--she does needleworks for swell folks an' stops with 'em sometimes--so if you'll only let me beat it, I can skin back an' she'll never know! Ah!--lemme go, sir!"

"Well then," sighed Mr. Ravenslee, "for her sake I will let you go--wait! I'll let you go and never speak of your--er--little escapade here, if you will take me with you."

Now at this, Spike gaped and fell back a step.

"Go wi' me--wi' me?" he stammered. "You--go wi' me to h.e.l.l's Kitchen--to Mulligan's Dump--you! Say, what kind o' song and dance are you giving me, anyway? Aw--quit yer kiddin', sir!"

"But I mean it."

"On--on d' level?"

"On the level."

"Holy Gee!" and Spike relapsed into wide-eyed, voiceless wonder.

"Is it a go?" enquired Mr. Ravenslee.

"But--but, say--" stammered the boy, glancing from the elegant figure in the chair around the luxurious room and back again, "but you're a--a--"

"Just a poor, disconsolate, lonely--er--guy!"

"What!" cried Spike, staring around him again, "with all this? Oh, yes, you're homeless and starving, you are--I don't think!"

"Is it a go?"

"But say--whatcher want to go wi' me for? What's yer game? Put me wise."

"I am filled with desire to breathe awhile the salubrious air of h.e.l.l's Kitchen; will you take me?" Now as he spoke, beholding the boy's staring amaze, Mr. Ravenslee's frowning brows relaxed, his firm, clean-shaven lips quivered, and all at once curved up into a smile of singular sweetness--a smile before which the hopelessness and fear died out of the boy's long-lashed eyes, his whole strained att.i.tude vanished, and he smiled also--though perhaps a little tremulously.

"Will you take me, Spike?"

"You bet I will!" exclaimed the boy, his blue eyes shining, "and I'll do my best to show you I--I ain't so bad as I--as I seem--an' we'll shake on it if you like." And Spike advanced with his hand outstretched, then paused, suddenly abashed, and drooping his head, turned away. "I--I forgot," he muttered, "--I'm--you said I was a--thief!"

"You meant to be!" said Mr. Ravenslee, and rising, he stretched himself and glanced at his watch.

"Are you coming wi' me, sir?" enquired Spike, regarding Mr. Ravenslee's length and breadth with quick, appraising eyes.

"I surely am!"

"But--but not in them glad rags!" and Spike pointed to Mr. Ravenslee's exquisitely tailored garments.

"Ah--to be sure!" nodded their wearer. "We'll soon fix that," and he touched the electric bell.

"Say," cried Spike, starting forward in sudden terror, "you--you ain't goin' to give me away?"

"No."

"Cross your heart--hope to die, you ain't?"

"Across my heart and hope to die, I'm not--and there's my hand on it, Spike."

"What?" exclaimed the boy, his eyes suspiciously bright, "d' you mean you will shake--after--after what I--"