V
THE AMBASSADOR’S STICK-PIN
THE manner of Lanagan’s acquiring the Ambassador’s stick-pin is nearly, if not quite, as interesting as the matter of his losing it. His possession of the pin was simple enough when one understands the chromatic ways of a police reporter’s daily routine: and Jack Lanagan was the “star” police reporter of the city. The surrender of the pin is as easily understood, when one comes to learn something of the devious paths the police reporter is sometimes called on to follow, and the curious and startling situations into which they sometimes lead.
Thus, when Lanagan, drifting indolently with the matinée throngs down Powell street, stopped to hold confab with “Kid” Monahan, that now retired King of the pickpockets, it was natural enough that he should remark on a stick-pin of odd design that replaced the accustomed three-carat in the “King’s” silk cravat. Gentry who lived by their wits and other people’s wealth, affect stones of much size. Some policemen wear them, too.
It was natural enough, that the “King,” proverbially generous, noticing the glance of interest, should say, “Here, wear it,” and with a motion as quick and as deft as a hummingbird’s flit, transfer the pin from his tie to that of the newspaper man.
It was then for Lanagan to observe, dryly:
“Your title is certainly earned,” as he extracted the pin and offered it back. “But this being a pin of very unusual design, I am afraid I might not be able to wear it as gracefully while awaiting the possible appearance of its owner, as can you. Further, that little exhibition of refined ‘touch’ you just gave, excites some grave suspicions that you are back at your old tricks.”
The one-time King knew Lanagan’s outspoken ways. Further he knew perfectly that, while the police accepted his declaration, since his last time out, of fealty to the law, he was a two-timer. The police were using him, or thought they were, as a “stool;” Lanagan did not think so.
“If it hadn’t been for what Lombroso classified as the ‘criminal lobe,’ I might really believe you had reformed,” Lanagan had told him once. “But in view of the lynx-like quality of your ears to be all top and no bottom, I am afraid the stamp of an extremely low moral resistance is indelibly upon you.”
And Monahan had only grinned then as now, in his ingenuous way, uncomprehending, and exalted Lanagan a notch or two. For some minor favour in times gone past, Lanagan had earned and held steadfastly the King’s unswerving loyalty; not an insignificant asset for a police reporter.