Instantly Slippery’s manner changed. From rough he became smooth. From bold he became cringing.
“Why, I’m Snooksy’s friend,” he said. “You know me and Snooksy was always chums, don’t you, Gubby? Yes, sir, I think a lot of Snooksy. He says, ‘Slippery, you go up to my room and get me a bundle of clean clothes—these are all torn and dirty, and—’ Well, I guess I’ll get ’em, and get back. Snooks is waitin’ for me.”
He turned to the hall, but Philo Gubb called him back.
“You can’t go up there,” said Philo Gubb, from his ladder-top. “There’s been enough folks up there already.”
“Who was up?” asked Slippery hastily.
“Policeman Fogarty was,” said Philo Gubb.
“What’d he find up there?” asked Slippery anxiously.
“Nothin’,” said Philo Gubb. “He told me he couldn’t find seven bottles of beer and a beer-opener.”
“Look here!” said Slippery sweetly. “If I gave you five dollars to hire you to hunt for them, could you find them seven bottles of beer and that beer-opener, for me? Straight detective work? Could you?”