“Nothing but paste. I spotted it directly you handed them to me. It wasn’t worth a hundred dollars.”
A light of understanding came into Spike’s eyes. His face beamed with the smile of one to whom dark matters are made clear.
“So dat’s why you wouldn’t stand for getting away wit it!” he exclaimed.
* * * * * * * *
The last voyager had embarked. The deck was full to congestion.
“They’ll be sending us ashore in a minute,” said Jimmy. “I’d better be moving. Let me know how you’re getting on, Spike, from time to time. You know the address. And, I say, it’s just possible you may find you want a dollar or two every now and then—when you’re going to buy another aeroplane, for instance. Well, you know where to write to for it, don’t you?”
“T’anks, boss. But dat’ll be all right. I’m goin’ to sit in at anodder game dis time—politics, boss. A fr’en’ of a mug what I knows has gotten a pull. He’ll find me a job.”
“Politics!” said Jimmy. “I never thought of that. ‘My brother Dan is an alderman with a grip on the Seventh Ward!’” he quoted softly. “Why, you’ll be a boss before you know where you are.”
“Sure,” said Spike, grinning modestly.
“You ought to be a thundering success in American politics,” said Jimmy. “You’ve got all the necessary qualities.”