"Helup vourseluf, Sharlie," said Schmitz.
Nickie helped himself. He helped himself liberally. Schmitz fell on Mahdi's neck, and embraced him freely. "Mein goot friend," he gurgled, "I like you. You shplended fellow. Dot's so, sure. Come mit me, my 'ous' to, und ye make a night mid it." He embraced Nickie again.
"All der same," he said, in a puzzled tone, "I don't know me vy you vear dot hairy overcoad dose hot nides. Haff er drink."
The Missing Link, standing grimly outlined in the darkness, raised the bottle in his two prehensile paws, and drank health to Schmitz.
"Goot man," said Schmitz, embracing him again. "Now con mit me to my 'ous' to, und we make the night." He grappled with Nickie, and the two seesawed towards Schmitz's hotel. The place was in complete darkness; the bar door was wide open.
Schmitz dragged Nickie through the bar, with much bumping and more breaking of glass, into a back compartment, and there he fumbled for matches, forgot his mission, and sang a German song very drearily, stopping suddenly to say:
"Vere haf you gone mit yourseluf, mein goot friend? Vot is der madder mit der lightness."
He fumbled again. Nickie was in no hurry, he had the gin bottle.
Schmitz found the matches, and lit a candle on the shelf. He turned drunkenly towards Nickie, and beheld what must have been a strange and mysterious sight to a commonplace Dutchman in his own home. Sitting on a chair facing him, with the gin bottle raised to his lips, was a mighty monkey—a great, red, hairy ape, as large as a man.
The publican scratched his head wonderingly.