“Gee!” cried Spike. “It’s de cop.”
Jimmy smiled pleasantly.
“Come in, Mr. McEachern,” he said, “come in. Journeys end in lovers meeting. You know my friend Mr. Mullins, I think? Shut the door and sit down, and let’s talk of many things.”
★ 14 ★
Check, and a Counter Move
Mr. McEachern stood in the doorway, breathing heavily. As the result of a long connection with evildoers, the ex-policeman was somewhat prone to harbour suspicions of those round about him, and at the present moment his mind was aflame. Indeed, a more trusting man might have been excused for feeling a little doubtful as to the intentions of Jimmy and Spike. When McEachern had heard that Lord Dreever had brought home a casual London acquaintance, he had suspected as a possible drawback to the visit the existence of hidden motives on the part of the unknown. Lord Dreever, he had felt, was precisely the sort of youth to whom the professional bunco-steerer would attach himself with shouts of joy. Never, he had assured himself, had there been a softer proposition than his lordship since bunco-steering became a profession.
When he found that the strange visitor was Jimmy Pitt, his suspicions had increased a thousandfold.
And when, going to his room to get ready for dinner, he had nearly run into Spike Mullins in the corridor, his frame of mind had been that of a man to whom a sudden ray of light reveals the fact that he is on the brink of a black precipice. Jimmy and Spike had burgled his house together in New York; and here they were, together again, at Dreever Castle. To say that the thing struck McEachern as sinister is to put the matter badly. There was once a gentleman who remarked that he smelt a rat and saw it floating in the air. Ex-Constable McEachern smelt a regiment of rats, and the air seemed to him positively congested with them.
His first impulse had been to rush to Jimmy’s room there and then; but he had learned society’s lessons well. Though the heavens might fall, he must not be late for dinner, so he went and dressed, and an obstinate tie put the finishing touches to his wrath.
Jimmy regarded him coolly, without moving from the chair in which he had seated himself. Spike, on the other hand, seemed embarrassed; he stood first on one leg and then on the other, as if he were testing the respective merits of each and would make a definite choice later on.
“You scoundrels!” growled McEachern.