Spike, who had been standing for a few moments on his right leg, and seemed at last to have come to a decision, hastily changed to the left, and grinned feebly.
“Say, youse won’t want me any more, boss?” he whispered.
“No; you can go, Spike.”
“You stay where you are, you red-headed devil!” said McEachern tartly.
“Run along, Spike,” said Jimmy.
The Bowery boy looked doubtfully at the huge form of the ex-policeman, which blocked access to the door.
“Would you mind letting my man pass?” said Jimmy.
“You stay——” began McEachern.
Jimmy got up and walked round him to the door, which he opened. Spike shot out like a rabbit released from a trap. He was not lacking in courage, but he disliked embarrassing interviews, and it struck him that Jimmy was the man to handle a situation of this kind. He felt that he himself would only be in the way.
“Now we can talk comfortably,” said Jimmy, going back to his chair.