"Hold on! Hold on! Begin at the beginning!"
"Well, I was on'y waiting a few minutes in Eighty-third Street when his nibs come out of that house, you know, 311. He got in his cab and went back home; through Eighty-third to Broadway, up Broadway to Ninety-fourth and down to the Drive, me following. Well, while we was going through Ninety-fourth, I see Blossom and a good-looking girl coming along on the sidewalk. His nibs in front, he musta seen 'em too, for he stops his cab and slips out and takes after them on foot. They didn't see him. Well, I went on a little way, turned around, and followed the whole bunch around to the Ninety-sixth Street subway station.
"Blossom and the girl went down, his nibs follows them, and I follows his nibs. We goes to the down-town platform. On the platform Blossom gets wise to me, see? And when his nibs ain't looking I gives him a little sign that that is his nibs, see? Blossom gets it all right. Well, a train come along then and they all got in. But I couldn't leave my cab. I went back to Stickney Arms, but his nibs ain't come home yet. You told me to call you at nine. What do you want me to do now?"
Greg considered a moment. "If his wife is alone in the apartment he's pretty sure to be back soon. Better stay on watch where you are. Call me up again in an hour."
Greg returned home in no little anxiety. It seemed like a gratuitous stroke of ill luck that de Socotra should just have happened to run into Blossom. Blossom was a good fellow and loyal without a doubt, but he could scarcely be expected to prove a match for the astute de Socotra. And almost two hours had passed. Greg would have given something to know what had happened. But all he could do was wait.
A few minutes later Blossom walked in the kitchen door. Nina was with him. One look in the man's face told Greg that nothing serious had happened; on the contrary the morose and jejune Blossom looked fairly rejuvenated.
"The little black book?" cried Greg. "Have you got it?"
By way of answer Blossom held it aloft. A cheer went up in the kitchen.
"Thank God!" cried Greg. "Now we're all right!"
Bessie was standing, arms akimbo, taking it all in like a comical solemn child. The temptation was too much for Greg. Before she knew what he was doing, Greg had seized her round the waist and waltzed her—or rather swayed her, for it was impossible to move her from her firmly planted stand. The men roared.