While waiting to round out the brief period of existence which drink and the devil had left him, this poor human fragment had become a protégé of Ignatz Leber, an Alsatian, manager for a German importing and exporting house, and agent for the cable company. By the grace of the philanthropic Ignatz, Don Juan slept under Leber's warehouse and ate in his kitchen.
To return to Mother Jenks.
CHAPTER VII
BEFORE Don Juan could even utter a matutinal greeting, Mother Jenks laid finger to lip and silenced him. “Go back to Leber's and return in an hour,” she whispered. “I 'ave my reasons for wantin' that bloomin' cablegram delivered later.”
Don Juan hadn't the least idea what Mother Jenks's reasons might be, but he presumed she was up to some chicanery, and so he winked his bloodshot eye very knowingly and nodded his acquiescence in the program; whereupon Mother Jenks started to close the door. Instantly Don Juan's foot was in the jamb; in a hoarse whisper he said:
“Whilst ye're askin' favours, woman dear, ye might have the kindness to ask me if I have a mouth.”
“Bloomin' well I knows yer 'ave a mouth, for bloomin' well I smell yer blawsted breath,” Mother Jenks retorted. However, the present was no time to raise an issue with Don Juan, and so she slipped behind the bar of her cantina, poured five fingers of aguardiente, the local brand of disturbance, and handed it to Don Juan through the crack in the door.
“Here's all the hair off your head,” Don Juan Cafetéro saluted her amiably. He tossed it off at a gulp, handed Mother Jenks the glass, and departed with a whispered promise to return in an hour.