I didn’t want to seem too serious about it. He got to his feet and put one foot on a chair.
“Shirley’s fallen right into his trap,” he barked. “He’s got her hooked tighter than Grant had Richmond; and he’s got to lay off!”
“Peewee! Where’s the boy?”
Penoch’s eyes darted to mine, and his face froze.
“Stick around, and you’ll see some fun,” he barked raucously, and then his voice reverberated thunderously from the rafters.
“In the dining hall! Come in!”
In came Kennedy, resplendent in a uniform as new as the label on a bottle of bootleg whisky. He was washed, polished and highly perfumed, and he looked well.
“’Lo, Slim! Welcome home! Say, Peewee, can you slip me twenty? I’m as flat as near-beer. Until pay-day?”
“No, I can’t. I’m broke myself.”
Penoch was on his feet, legs wide apart, planted solidly. His barrel-like, little body seemed to stretch, until his clothes were drawn tightly over it, and his mustache was bristling fiercely. His eyes were bright and cold.