CHAPTER IX
A NARROW ESCAPE
On a rainy evening in mid-September, a salesman for an Eastern chemical firm invited Amidon to join him in a game of billiards at the Whitcomb House. As Russell Kirby was one of the stars of the traveling fraternity, Jerry was greatly honored by this attention. Moreover, when he hung up his coat in the billiard room and rolled up the sleeves of his silk shirt, the traveler’s arms proved to be thoroughly tanned—and this impressed Jerry as indicating that Kirby indulged in the aristocratic game of golf and did not allow the cares of business to interfere with his lawful amusements. Kirby played very good billiards, and did not twist his cigar into the corner of his mouth when he made his shots, as most of Jerry’s friends did.
“The lid’s on a little looser in your town than it was last winter,” remarked the envied one, sipping a ricky. “I suppose by following our noses we could strike a pretty stiff game without going out into the wet.”
“Oh, there’s always more or less poker around here,” replied Jerry, unwilling to appear ignorant of the moral conditions of his own city.
He chalked his cue and watched Kirby achieve a difficult shot. Billiards afforded Jerry a fine exercise for his philosophic temper, steady hand, and calculating eye. He had developed a high degree of proficiency with the cue in the Criterion Billiard Parlors. It was a grief to him that in trying to live up to Eaton he had felt called upon to desert the Criterion, where the admiration of lesser lights had been dear to his soul.
“Big Rodney Sykes is here,” Kirby remarked carelessly. “They chased him out of Chicago that last time they had a moral upheaval.”
Jerry was chagrined that he knew nothing of Big Rodney Sykes, presumably a gambler of established reputation. To be a high-salaried traveler, with a flexible expense account, was to be in touch with the inner life of all great cities. Jerry’s envy deepened; it availed nothing that he could beat this sophisticated being at billiards.
“Rather tough about that boss of yours,” Kirby continued. “It’s fellows of his size that Big Rodney goes after. A gentleman’s game and no stopping payment of checks the next morning.”
“Oh, the boss is no squab; I guess he’s sat in with as keen sharps as Sykes and got out with carfare home,” replied Jerry.
“Of course; but on a hot night like this many a good man feels the need of a little relaxation. It just happened”—he prolonged the deliberation of his aim to intensify Jerry’s curiosity—“happened I saw Copeland wandering toward Sykes’s room as I was coming down.”