"My b-blood!" stammered Bobo, white as a sheet.
Jack said simply: "If you let yourself be inveigled into marrying that girl, when she finds out you haven't got a sou, she'll kill you. She's that kind."
Bobo shook as with an ague. "I'll never see her again," he whispered. "I swear it!"
22
Jack—in the character of Mr. Pitman, had now reached a degree of intimacy with Dave Anderson, manager of the Eureka Protective Association, sufficient to enable him to drop into Anderson's private office at any hour during the day without exciting remark. He was careful never to display the least curiosity concerning Anderson's business, but simply kept his eyes and ears open and picked up what he could.
His patience was rewarded at last. One morning as he entered the private office, he found Anderson engaged in tying up a little packet, the significant size and shape of which made Jack's heart beat faster.
"Remittance day," said the indiscreet Anderson carelessly. "Just wait till I get this off to the boss, and I'll go out and have a smile with you."
Jack had instantly made up his mind to follow that packet. "Sorry," he said, "can't stop now. Just dropped in to ask you the number of your cigar-maker on lower Sixth avenue. I've got to go down in that neighborhood, and I thought I'd get some."
"81 Sixth," said Anderson. "Will we lunch to-day?"