When we remarked at the astonishing change, he answered, speaking through one side of his mouth: "Ah, quit your kiddin'! You talk like a preacher. I ain't no sissy no more. When I gets out o' here I'll pull something big that'll knock you stiff. You get me?" And he spat sideways on the floor in supreme contempt. But when we laughed at his pretence and strutting, he blushed in anger and disappointment.
It seems that when he was sent downstairs after his first operation he was "doubled up" with a notorious burglar, who undertook to educate him and train him, with a view to using the lad to assist him in his work after his release. A few weeks later his mentor joined him in the hospital, but unlike his talkative pupil, who was quickly ordered to "shut his mug," he was reserved and secretive as to his life and plans.
But one evening at dusk, as we were both watching the New York skyline from the barred windows, the reserve gave way, and the cracksman told me of his life.
It was one of those rare moments when even a strong and evil spirit will waver and doubt; when his heart will overflow with disgust and the hopelessness of his earthly quest. The attitude of contrition dissipated like smoke when he was asked if it was not possible to make a living in an honest way.
"Nothing doing," he said. "The bulls won't give me a chance. They'll spot me and job me if I don't put up the dough. It's a fight to a finish. At the other end there is either Sing Sing or the death chair. There ain't no hope. I'll live and die a crook."
Two years later I read that my friend the cracksman and his pals had been caught trying to blow up a safe in a most daring and scientific manner. And the whole gang was sentenced to Sing Sing for a long term.
XVII
A Jewish pickpocket is one of the patients who is under suspicion of faking. The young doctor suggested my watching him, and when I reported, he declared that he was satisfied in his suspicion, but did not send him to his cell at once, as he would have been punished.
Meanwhile he helps and amuses us with stories of his checkered career. At first I could not make out what was the matter with him. He couldn't walk any distance without jerking his head backwards. I thought he suffered from some peculiar nervous trouble in the muscles of the neck. When I asked him about it he confessed that it was a habit formed by years of unconscious but very useful watching to see if he was followed by detectives. Even in the hospital, when he knew that he was not followed, he would throw his head in quick glances backwards.