“Oh, I guess I won’t do that. He may be a little short just at present, and if he is I don’t want to press him. We are not in need of money.”
“But Guy isn’t short; he’s got plenty of funds.”
“Then perhaps I should make him angry, and that wouldn’t pay, for he’s a good customer.”
“No, you’ll not make him mad,” said Mr. Jones, “for he has got so in the habit of being dunned that he expects it, and never thinks of paying a bill without it. You’ll have to talk right up to him, for he is as full of excuses as an egg is of meat. He’s perfectly honest, but so peculiar. You needn’t tell him that I suggested this plan of operations to you.”
“Of course not,” said Mr. Warren.
The conversation ran on in this channel while the tailor was taking Mr. Jones’ measure, and the result was that the merchant announced his determination to send his bill to his debtor at the store on the following evening at six o’clock.
When Mr. Jones went out he bent his steps toward a livery stable, where a conversation of a like character with the above took place between him and the proprietor, and with the same result. Then he called at a billiard saloon, dropped into Dutch Jake’s for a moment, and wound up his walk by visiting a hat store and one or two furnishing establishments. Having then called upon all of Guy’s creditors, he lighted a cigar and strolled slowly homeward, well satisfied with his evening’s work. Guy’s debts amounted to two hundred and seventy-five dollars.
“He’ll never be able to pay them out of the salary he draws now,” thought Mr. Jones. “There are only two courses of action open to him, and no matter which one he chooses, he is doomed as surely as his name is Guy Harris. I ought to manage some way to bring this business to old Walker’s ears,” added Mr. Jones, stopping suddenly and looking down at the sidewalk in a brown study. “I have it. Hyslom is just the man. He is mean enough for anything.”
Mr. Jones turned, and hastily retracing his steps to a billiard saloon he had visited a few minutes before, beckoned to a seedy-looking man he found there, who followed him to the farthest corner of the room. A whispered conversation was carried on between them for a few moments, and was brought to a close by Mr. Jones, who slipped a five-dollar bill into the hand of his seedy companion and went out.
His plans against Guy were now all perfected, and making his way homeward with a light heart, he tumbled into bed and slept soundly beside his victim, who all the night long tossed uneasily about, never once closing his eyes in slumber.