“No, he don’t; dat’s a fact, boss. Fact is, dat boy is the artfullest lunytick you ever seed. He tried to kill his mother last week.”
“Is that true?”
“Dat’s so, boss. And all de while he looks as innocent as a baby. If I was to let him out he’d kill somebody, sure.”
“I never would have believed it,” said the young man.
“If you want to take the risk, boss, you might go up and see him. I believe he’s got a carvin’-knife about him, but I don’t dare to go up and get it away. It would be as much as this niggah’s life is worth.”
“No,” answered the young man, hastily. “I don’t want to see him. I never did like crazy folks. I’m sorry I gave you the trouble to come to the door.”
“Oh, no trouble, boss.”
“I guess I’ve fixed dat boy!” chuckled Julius. “Ho, ho! he can’t get ahead of old Julius! Crazy as a loon, ho, ho!”
Dodger waited anxiously for the young man to get through his interview. He hoped that he would force his way up to the third floor, draw the bolt, and release him from his imprisonment.
He kept watch at the window, and when the young man reappeared, he looked at him eagerly. “Did you ask them to let me out?” he shouted. The other looked up at him with an odd expression of suspicion and repulsion.