“Sure,” he said, puzzled, but realising that his words had not pleased the great man.
Jimmy chewed the stem of his pipe irritably, while Spike, full of excellent intentions, sat on the edge of his chair drawing sorrowfully at his cigar and wondering what he had done to give offence.
“Boss?” said Spike.
“Halloa!”
“Boss, what’s doin’ here? Put me next to de game. Is it de old lay? Banks and jools from duchesses! You’ll be able to let me sit in on de game, won’t you?”
“I’d quite forgotten I hadn’t told you about myself, Spike. I’ve retired.”
The horrid truth sank slowly into the other’s mind.
“Say! What’s dat, boss? You’re cuttin’ it out?”
“That’s it. Absolutely.”
“Ain’t youse swiping no more jools?”