“It’ll come back some time, boss, sure.”
“Then I’m going to keep an eye on you till it does. Just for the moment you’re the most important man in the world to me. Where are you living?”
“Me? Why, in de Park. Dat’s right. One of dem swell detached benches wit a southern exposure.”
“Well, unless you prefer it, you needn’t sleep in the Park any more. You can pitch your moving tent with me.”
“What, here, boss?”
“Unless we move.”
“Me fer dis,” said Spike, rolling luxuriously in his chair.
“You’ll want some clothes,” said Jimmy. “We’ll get those to-morrow. You’re the sort of figure they can fit off the peg. You’re not too tall, which is a good thing.”
“Bad t’ing for me, boss. If I’d bin taller I’d have stood for being a cop, and bin buying a brown-stone house on Fifth Avenue by this. It’s de cops makes de big money in little old Manhattan, dat’s who it is.”
“The man who knows!” said Jimmy. “Tell me more, Spike. I suppose a good many of the New York force do get rich by graft?”