"Anything that could move and push a chair could get fifteen cents an hour from McDuyal. Wise man, poor man, beggar man, thief, it as all one to McDuyal. And the creatures could sleep in the shed behind the rolling chairs.
"I suppose an impulse to offer the man a garment of some sort moved me to address him. 'You're nearly naked,' I said.
"He crossed one leg over the other with the toe of the carpet slipper touching the walk, in the manner a burlesque actor, took the cigarette out of his mouth with a little flourish, and replied to me: 'Sure, Governor, I ain't dolled up like John Drew.'
"There was a sort of cocky unconcern about the creature that gave his miserable state a kind of beggarly distinction. He was in among the very dregs of life, and he was not depressed about it.
"'But if I had a sawbuck,' he continued, 'I could bulge your eye….
Couldn't point the way to one?'
"He arrested my answer with the little flourish of his fingers holding the stump of the cigarette.
"'Not work, Governor,' and he made a little duck of his head, 'and not murder…. Go as far as you please between 'em.'
"The fantastic manner of the derelict was infectious.
"'O.K.,' I said. 'Go out and find me a man who is a deserter from the German Army, was a tanner in Bâle and began life as a sailor, and I'll double your money—I'll give you a twenty-dollar bill.'
"The creature whistled softly in two short staccato notes.