II
PUBLIC interest having been aroused in the corpse, it may be well to tell how it became that way.
Deceased was William Henry Weld. Five days before the opening of our story, William donned his skates and lined out on one of his periodicals. For four days he debauched to beat four kings and an ace.
And William had adventures. He paid a fine; he fell down a coal hole; he invaded a laundry and administered the hot wallops to the presiding Chinaman. On the fourth day he declared himself in on a ball not far from Sixth Avenue.
“Ah, there!” quoth William, archly, to a beautiful being to whom he had not been introduced. “Ah, there! Tricksey; I choose youse for d' next waltz.”
“Nit; not on your life!” murmured the beautiful one.
As William Henry Weld was about to make fitting response, a coarse, vulgar person approached.
“What for be youse jimmin' 'round me pick?” asked this person.
“That's d' stuff, Barney!” said the beautiful one. “Don't do a t'ing to him!”
The next instant William Henry Weld was cast into outer darkness.
“It's all right, Old Man!” said the friend who rescued William Henry Weld, “I'm goin' to take youse home. Your wife ain't on to me, an' I'll fake it I'm a off'cer, see! I'll give her d' razzle dazzle of her existence, an' square youse wit' her.”
“It's Willie!” said the friend to Arabella Weld, as he supported her husband into the sitting-room. “It's Willie, an' he's feelin' O. K. but weedy. Me name, madam, is Jackson—Jackson, of d' secret p'lice. Willie puts himse'f in me hands as a sacred trust to bring him home.”
“Is he sick?” moaned Arabella Weld, as she began to let her hair down, preparatory to a yell.
“Never touched him!” assured the friend. “Naw; Willie's off his feed a bit. You sees, madam, Willie hired out to a hypnotist purely in d' interest of science, an' he's been in a trance four days, see! That's why he ain't home. Bein' in a trance, he couldn't send woid. Now all he needs is a rest for, say, a week. Oughtn't to let him get out of his crib for a week.”
At 4 o'clock the next morning William Henry Weld began to see blue-winged goats. Arabella Weld “sprung” a glass of water on him.
“Give it a chase!” shrieked William Henry Weld, wildly waving the false beverage aside.
In his ratty condition he didn't tumble to the pure element's identity, but thought it was one of those Things.
At 5 o'clock A. M. William Henry Weld didn't do a thing but perish. When the glorious sun again poured down its golden mellow beams, the Undertaker had his hooks on him and Arabella Weld was a widow.