Jeffery Farnol

“ Drawing the neckerchief from his pocket, Ravenslee crossed over and tapped M'Ginnis on the arm, who, turning about, stared into a pallid face within a foot of his own.
"What th' hell—" he began, but Ravenslee cut him short.
"You left this behind you," said he, thrusting forward the neckerchief, "so I've brought it to twist around that foul throat of yours. Now, M'Ginnis—fight!"
Thrusting the neckerchief into his pocket, Ravenslee clenched his fists, and, saying no more, they closed and fought—not as men, but rather as brute beasts eager to maim and rend. ”

“ Comes immediately a quick, light tread of rubber-soled feet and the flash of white arms as they circle about and about, feinting, watchful and wary. Twice Ravenslee's fist shoots out and twice is blocked by Joe's open glove, and once he ducks a vicious swing and lands a half-arm jolt that makes Joe grin and stagger, whereat the Old Un, standing upon his chair, hugs himself in an ecstasy, and forgetful of such small matters as five-dollar bills, urges, prays, beseeches, and implores the Guv to "wallop the blighter on the p'int, to stab 'im on the mark, and to jolt 'im in the kidney-pit." ”

“ Trapes brewed the tea, while Ravenslee gazed at Hermione again, at her shapely arms, her dimpled elbows, her preoccupied face—a face so serenely, so utterly unaware of his regard, of course, until he chanced to look away, and then—Hermione stole a glance at him.
"There, my dear," said Mrs. Trapes after a while, "there's a cup o' tea as is a cup o' tea, brewed jest on the b'ile, in a hot pot, and drawed to perfection! Set right down an' drink it, slow an' deliberate. Tea ain't meant to be swallowed down careless, like a man does his beer! ”

“ For three interminable days Hermione, going about her many duties slow of foot and listless, had scarcely heeded him, conscious only of her own pain, the agony of longing, the yearning ache that filled her, throbbing in every heart-beat—an ache that would not be satisfied. Thus, lost in her own new sorrow, she spoke seldom, sighed often, and sang not at all; often sitting at her sewing machine with hands strangely idle and gaze abstracted. Spike, watching furtively, had seen her eyes brim over with great, slow-falling tears ”

“ Gentlemen—I thank ye." Having said which, the Old Un bowed again, gravely stepped from the ring, and ensconcing himself in the armchair, drew out a large and highly ornate watch, while Ravenslee and Joe vaulted over the ropes.
Behold them facing each other, the brown-skinned fighting man wise in ringcraft and champion of a hundred fights, and the white-fleshed athlete, each alike clean and bright of eye, light-poised of foot, quivering for swift action, while the Old Un looks needfully from one to the other, watch in one bony hand, the other upraised. ”

“ Hereupon Spike began to pick at the lining of his cap and finally answered: "Sometimes, I guess."
"Would she cry if she could see you now, I wonder?"
Hereupon Spike began to wring and twist his cap in nervous hands ere he answered: "I—I guess she might, perhaps."
"She must love you a good deal."
At this, Spike twisted his cap into a ball but spoke nothing; seeing which Mr. Ravenslee proceeded.
"You are luckier than I; there isn't a soul in the world to do as much for me." ”

“ The sun, it is true, radiates life and joy; before his beneficence gloom and depression flee away, and youth and health grow strong to achieve the impossible; even age and sickness, bathed in his splendour, may forget awhile their burdens and dream of other days. Truly sunshine is a thrice blessed thing. And yet, as Ravenslee tied the neckerchief about his brawny throat, was it by reason of the sun alone that his grey eyes were so bright and joyous and that he whistled so soft and merrily? ”

“ It was Saturday morning, and Hermione was making a pie and looking uncommonly handsome about it and altogether feminine and adorable; at least, so Ravenslee thought, as he watched her bending above the pastry board, her round, white arms bared to each dimpled elbow, and the rebellious curl wantoning at her temple as usual.
"But why kidneys, my dear?" demanded Mrs. Trapes, glancing up from the potatoes she was peeling. "Kidneys is rose again; kidneys is always risin', it seems to me. If you must have pie, why not good, plain beefsteak? ”

“ Into one of these tall tenement buildings, its ugliness rendered more ugly by the network of iron fire-escape ladders that writhed up the face of it, Spike led the way, first into a dark hallway and thence up many stairs that echoed to their light-treading feet—on and up, past dimly lit landings where were doors each of which shut in its own little world, a world distinct and separate wherein youth and age, good and evil, joy and misery, lived and moved and had their being ”

“ One who might make life truly worth while. One who, teaching him to forget himself, should lift him to better things. An object to live for, work for, and if necessary to—die for!"
Here Spike, finding himself utterly forgotten again, sighed in deep and audible relief, and taking up knife and fork, fell to with renewed appetite, while Hermione, chin rested on folded hands, gazed into Ravenslee's grave face. ”

“ No girl should take such chances."
"Oh, you mean—that!" said Hermione, meeting his eyes with her frank glance. "But no one would try to insult me hereabouts; this isn't Broadway or Fifth Avenue, Mr. Geoffrey!" and she smiled a very sad, weary little smile. "But I came to ask if you happened to know where Arthur is or—whom he was with?"
"Wasn't wid that Bud M'Ginnis, was he?" questioned Mrs. Trapes sharply.
"No, he wasn't with M'Ginnis," answered Mr. Ravenslee, in frowning perplexity, "but that's about all I can tell you." ”

“ Mulligan's was in a ferment. Bare-armed women talked in every doorway; they talked from open windows, they talked leaning over banisters, they congregated on landings and in passageways—but everywhere they talked; while men and youths newly returned from work, lunch-can and basket in hand, listened in wide-eyed astonishment, shook incredulous heads, puffed thoughtfully at pipes or cigarettes, and questioned in guttural wonderment.
But Ravenslee, lost in his own happy thoughts, sped up the stairs all unheeding, abstractedly returning such neighbourly salutes as he happened to notice ”

“ Here Spike took a gulp of tea and choked, also his brow grew clammy, and he stared with dilating eyes at Ravenslee, who began forthwith:
"Once upon a time, Miss Hermione, that is to say upon a certain dark night, a man sat alone, physically and mentally alone, and very wretched because his life was empty of all achievement—because, having been blessed with many opportunities, he had never done anything worth while. ”

“ Trapes, our friend Spike told the truth."
"Young feller," she demanded, "'oo are you and—what?"
"Mrs. Trapes," he sighed, "I am a lonely wight, a wanderer in wild places, a waif, a stray, puffed hither and thither by a fate perverse—"
"Talking o' verses, you ain't a poet, are you?" enquired Mrs. Trapes, "last poet as lodged wi' me useter go to bed in 'is boots reg'lar! Consequently I ain't nowise drawed to poets—"
Mr. Ravenslee laughed and shook his head.
"Have no fear," he answered, "I'm no poet nor ever shall be. I'm quite an ordinary human being, I assure you." ”

“ Trapes wriggled her elbows again and, glaring still, spoke harsh-voiced.
"Young feller, that owl's a parrot!"
"A parrot—of course!" assented Mr. Ravenslee gently, "and a very fine parrot too! Then the wax flowers and the antimacassars! What would a home be without them?" said he, dreamy-eyed and grave. "I think I shall be very bright and cheerful here, my dear Mrs. Trapes."
Mrs. Trapes swallowed audibly, stared at Spike until he writhed, and finally bored her sharp eyes into Mr. Ravenslee again.
"Young man," said she, "what name?" ”

“ Do you ever see any?"
"Well, your highness, I fancy I have lately, and when fairies are around, things are sure to happen; wishes get the habit of coming true. So, little Princess, just go on wishing and dreaming and—watch out!"
Then Ravenslee turned and followed Hermione out upon the dingy landing; but as he climbed the stair, there went with him the memory of a little face, very thin and pale, but radiant and all aglow with rapturous hope. Silently as they had come they mounted the stairs, until, reaching the topmost landing, they paused as by mutual consent. ”

“ Anon rise shrieks and infantile crowings of delight as each small hand is drawn back grasping a plump paper bag—shrieks and crowings that languish and die away, one by one, since no human child may shriek properly and chew peanuts at one and the same time. And in a while, his stock greatly diminished, Ravenslee trundles off and leaves behind him women who smile still and small boys and girls who munch in a rapturous silence. ”

“ Ravenslee slowly.
"As for that Bud M'Ginnis," cried Mrs. Trapes, seizing on the coffee-pot much as if it had been that gentleman's throat, "I'd—I'd like to—bat him one as would quiet him for keeps—I would so!" and she jerked the coffee-pot fiercely, much to the detriment of her snowy tablecloth. "There! now see what I done, but I do get all worked up over that loafer!"
"Pray why?"
"Why?" snorted Mrs. Trapes indignantly. "Hasn't he made eyes at her ever since they was kids together? ”

“ Brimberly gasped and goggled, for leaning over the back of his chair was a little, old man, very slender, very upright, and very smart as to attire, who fanned himself with a jaunty straw hat banded in vivid crimson; an old man whose bright, youthful eyes looked out from a face wizened with age, while up from his bald crown rose a few wisps of white and straggling hair. ”

“ During this breathless speech the narrowed eyes of M'Ginnis never left Ravenslee's pale, placid face, and in the persistence of this ferocious glare was something animal-like.
"Say, you—Mr. Butt-in!" said he, "I ain't through wid you—not by a whole lot I ain't. Oh, I'll get ye yet, an' I'll get ye good! There won't be nothin' left for nobody else when I'm through wid you. Savvy this—there ain't nobody ever goin' t' queer me with Hermy Chesterton. Oh, I'll get ye good, an' I'll get ye—soon!" ”

“ Why do you follow me, Soapy?"
Soapy's eyes grew narrower, and the pendent cigarette stirred slightly.
"Know me, hey?" he enquired.
"Heaven forbid! 'T was a bolt at a venture—a shot in the dark."
"Talkin'—o'—shootin'," said Soapy, grimly deliberate, "peanuts ain't a healthy profesh around here—not fer your kind, it ain't!"
"Oh, I don't know," answered Ravenslee, shaking his head gently at the tomatoes, "I've heard of professions even more unhealthy."
"Aw—well—say what?" ”

“ Recognising the "fighting-face", the Spider, being a fighter of a large and varied experience, immediately "covered up", and fell into that famous crouch of his that had proved the undoing of so many doughty fighters ere now. Then, like a flash, his long arm shot out, but in that same instant, Ravenslee, timing the blow to a fraction, moved slightly, and the Spider's knuckles bruised themselves against the wall at the precise moment that Ravenslee's open hand flipped lightly on the side of the Spider's square, lean jaw. ”

“ So down they sat, and while Hermione presided over the cups and saucers, Ravenslee carved.
"Light or dark meat, Miss Hermione?" he enquired.
"Herm; likes th' light, but a drumstick for mine—an' please don't forget th' stuffin', Geoff!"
"Tea, Mr. Geoffrey?"
"Thanks!" he answered, pausing to watch the curve of her shapely neck as she bent to pour the tea, and to note how her white hand grasped the battered teapot, little finger delicately poised.
"Say, Geoff—get busy!" said Spike wistfully. ”

“ If my father had only left me fewer millions, I might have been quite a hard-working, useful member of society, for there's good in me, Brimberly. I am occasionally aware of quite noble impulses, but they need some object to bring 'em out. An object—hum!" Here Mr. Ravenslee put away the revolver. "An object to work for, live for, be worthy of!" Here he fell to frowning into the fire again and stared thus so long that at last Mr. Brimberly felt impelled to say:
"A hobject, of course, sir! A hobject—certingly, sir!" ”

“ So Ravenslee took Spike in hand, bathing his bruised and battered features and setting ice water to his puffy lips, which the lad gulped thirstily. Thereafter he revived quickly but grew only the more morose and sulky.
"All right," he muttered, "I'll go t' bed, only—leave me, see!"
"Can't I help you?"
"No—you lemme alone. Oh, I know—you think I'm soused, but I ain't; I—I'm not drunk, I tell ye—I wish I was. I ain't no kid, so lemme alone—an' I ain't drunk. What if me legs is shaky? ”

“ But, as M'Ginnis came, Ravenslee turned swiftly, ducked the expected blow, and swinging his fist up beneath his assailant's extended arm, smote him hard and true upon the elbow; and Spike, pale and wide of eye, saw that arm fall and dangle helplessly at M'Ginnis' side, while his face was contorted with sharp agony.
"My God, Geoff! What you done t' him?"
"Pins and needles, Spike—that's all. A hoary old trick, but useful now and then. Mr. Flowers isn't so very wide-awake as folks seem to think. You see, it wouldn't have done to knock him out here; he might have upset the table."
"Knock out Bud!" ”

“ What was there about this dismal, silent place that seemed to leap at him all at once from the dimness, he knew not whence? Was it the shack with its solitary light, or the broad river lapping with soft sighings and low weeping sounds among the piles below, or was it something in the altered aspect of the guiding figure that led him forward, slow and ever slower, as if with dragging feet, and yet with feet that trod so softly?
"Spider," said he at last, speaking in hushed and breathless manner, "Spider—where are we?" ”

“ And now if you're ready to eat your supper, your supper's a-waitin' to be ate!"
So saying, she led the way into the parlour, where upon a snowy cloth, in a dish tastefully garnished with fried tomatoes, the English mutton chop reposed, making the very most of itself; the which Mr. Ravenslee forthwith proceeded to attack with surprising appetite and gusto.
"Is it tender?" enquired Mrs. Trapes anxiously. "Heaven pity that butcher if it ain't! Is it tasty, kind of?"
"It's delicious," nodded her lodger. "Really, Hell's Kitchen seems to suit me; I eat and sleep like a new man!" ”

“ Well, could you stoop to love this peanut man just as he is, with all his faults and failures, love him enough to trust yourself to his keeping, to follow him into the unknown, to help him find that Beautiful City of Perhaps—could you, Hermione? ”