Larry stared. “D’ye mean jemmies an’ that, sor?”
“That’s just what I mean!”
Larry stared. “Sure, d’ye think I’d be usin’ them, thin?”
“On the contrary, Larry,” I told him calmly, “I want to use them myself. You see, I intend to become a burglar.”
It was then that Larry dropped the coffee-cup, burning his hand rather badly.
I waited until he had finished hopping around the room, and until the really remarkable richness and variety of his profanity had exhausted itself. Then I told him a little about my plans for that afternoon.
The night before, after seeing Natalie home, I had gone to a dinner and theater party, and had not reached my own flat until the small hours. Nevertheless, I found Larry waiting up for me, with the news that Moore wanted to speak to me the moment I came in. I don’t know how much Larry guessed of our relations and plans, but he seemed content to obey orders and ask no questions. And he and Moore were on the best of terms by now.
Moore answered at once when I rang him.
“Listen, old fellow,” he said. “There’s some really big news for you. I have had another talk with Vining. I took him out to dinner last night and gave him a really good time, and I think he has thawed out at last. At any rate, he admitted that he could take me to a wonderful party if he wanted to.
“I had told him,” Moore went on, “that my one object in life was a new and unique sensation, and of course when he admitted that he could give me one, I deviled the life out of him to do it. Well, Clayton, he finally consented!”