The Coming of Bill

'What!'

Steve spun round. Bailey's face was set and determined.

'You are?' said Steve feebly.

'I am.'

'What's he been doing to you?'

'I am afraid I cannot tell you that. But he richly deserves what he

will get.'

Steve eyed him with affectionate interest.

'Well, ain't you the wildcat!' he said. 'Who'd have thought it? I'd

always had you sized up as a kind o' placid guy.'

'I can be roused.'

'Gee, can't I see it! But, say, what sort of a gook is this gink,

anyway?'

'In what respect?'

'Well, I mean is he a heavy or a middle or a welter or what? It makes a

kind o' difference, you know.'

'I cannot say. I have not seen him.'

'What! Not seen him? Then how's there this fuss between you?'

'That is a matter into which I cannot go.'

'Well, what's his name, then? Maybe I know him. I know a few good

people in this burg.'

'I have no objection to telling you that. He is an artist, and his name

is...his name is......'

Wrinkles appeared in Bailey's forehead. His eyes bulged anxiously

behind their glasses.

'I've forgotten,' he said blankly.

'For the love of Mike! Know where he lives?'

'I am afraid not.'

Steve patted him kindly on the shoulder.

'Take my advice, bo,' he said. 'Let the poor fellow off this time.'

And so it came about that Bailey, instead of falling upon Kirk

Winfield, hailed a taxicab and drove to the apartment of Mrs. Lora

Delane Porter.

 

Chapter V Wherein Opposites Agree

The maid who opened the door showed a reluctance to let Bailey in. She

said that Mrs. Porter was busy with her writing and had given orders

that she was not to be disturbed.

Nothing could have infuriated Bailey more. He, Bailey Bannister, was to

be refused admittance because this preposterous woman wished to write!

It was the duty of all decent citizens to stop her writing. If it had

not been for her and her absurd books Ruth would never have made it

necessary for him to pay this visit at all.

'Kindly take my card to Mrs. Porter and tell her that I must see her at

once on a matter of the utmost urgency,' he directed.

The domestic workers of America had not been trained to stand up

against Bailey's grand manner. The maid vanished meekly with the card,

and presently returned and requested him to step in.

Bailey found himself in a comfortable room, more like a man's study