"Sure," said Harry importantly. "I passed the feller as I was coming down and there ain't any one like him to the hotel."
The Watermelon laughed heartily. "A hobo, eh? Bunkoed you for fair. You fellers oughtn't to be so dog-goned easy. Get wise, get wise!"
"We are wise now," said the barber ruefully, and added sternly, "If you want a shave, you've got to show your money first."
"Sure, I want a shave," said the Watermelon, and carelessly rattled a few old keys he carried in his pocket. They jingled with the clink of loose coins and were pleasing to the ear if not so much to the touch. "I came here for a shave, but I pay for what I want, see? Say, I'll bet that feller busted your cash register," and he nodded pleasantly toward the new shiny receiver of customs on the shelf near the looking-glass.
The remark brought an agreeable thrill of excited expectation to all save the barber. He shook his head with boundless faith in his new possession. "I bought that just last week and the drummer said it was practically thief proof."
"Do you want to bet?" asked the Watermelon. "All there is in the register, huh? Even money," and he jingled the keys in his pocket.
"Naw," said the barber. "I know he couldn't have robbed it. It's impossible, even if the thing could be robbed, which it can't be. I was right here all the time."
"It's near the lookin'-glass," said the Watermelon. "He went close to the counter to see himself, didn't he?"
The Watermelon knew vanity as James' one weakness and realized with what pleasure he himself would stand before the mirror and gaze fondly at his own charms, uncontaminated by a shaggy, two-weeks' growth of beard.
"Yes," admitted the barber slowly. "He did look at himself for a long time."