And when, going to his room to get ready for dinner, he had nearly
run into Spike Mullins in the corridor, his frame of mind had been
that of a man to whom a sudden ray of light reveals the fact that he
is on the brink of a black precipice. Jimmy and Spike had burgled
his house together in New York. And here they were, together again,
at Dreever Castle. To say that the thing struck McEachern as
sinister is to put the matter baldly. There was once a gentleman who
remarked that he smelt a rat, and saw it floating in the air. Ex-
Constable McEachern smelt a regiment of rats, and the air seemed to
him positively congested with them.
His first impulse had been to rush to Jimmy's room there and then;
but he had learned society's lessons well. Though the heavens might
fall, he must not be late for dinner. So, he went and dressed, and
an obstinate tie put the finishing touches to his wrath.
Jimmy regarded him coolly, without moving from, the chair in which
he had seated himself. Spike, on the other hand, seemed embarrassed.
He stood first on one leg, and then on the other, as if he were
testing the respective merits of each, and would make a definite
choice later on.
'You scoundrels!' growled McEachern.
Spike, who had been standing for a few moments on his right leg, and
seemed at last to have come to, a decision, hastily changed to the
left, and grinned feebly.
'Say, youse won't want me any more, boss?' he whispered.
'No, you can go, Spike.'
'You stay where you are, you red-headed devil!' said McEachern,
tartly.
'Run along, Spike,' said Jimmy.
The Bowery boy looked doubtfully at the huge form of the ex-
policeman, which blocked access to the door.
'Would you mind letting my man pass?' said Jimmy.
'You stay--' began McEachern.
Jimmy got up and walked round to the door, which he opened. Spike
shot out. He was not lacking in courage, but he disliked
embarrassing interviews, and it struck him that Jimmy was the man to
handle a situation of this kind. He felt that he himself would only
be in the way.
'Now, we can talk comfortably,' said Jimmy, going back to his chair.
McEachern's deep-set eyes gleamed, and his forehead grew red, but he
mastered his feelings.
'And now--' said he, then paused.
'Yes?' asked Jimmy.
'What are you doing here?'
'Nothing, at the moment.'
'You know what I mean. Why are you here, you and that red-headed
devil, Spike Mullins?' He jerked his head in the direction of the
door.
'I am here because I was very kindly invited to come by Lord
Dreever.'
