Still nothing much, eh?
The next week I came on work at ten and I didn't see Jones—or not see Stanley—all week. Friday, I was back down at the Yard. That was out of my pattern. Usually one visit in a month or so was plenty. But now, for whatever reason, I was getting kind of interested in Jones—and Stanley.
This time Jones was there hunkered down against the wall when I wandered up. Coaster Joe squatted on one side of him. On the other side, no one. I looked; I looked close. There was no one there. Still, when I nodded around, I nodded at the empty space. Noticed that Bootnose Bailey was missing. A mild surprise. Bootnose and a bottle were nearly as much Yard fixtures as Gen. Scott in bronze and pigeons. I settled in. A little time and a jug went by. I still didn't see Stanley.
My curiosity finally insisted on a remark. "Jonesy, I—haven't seen Stanley tonight."
Jones smiled, not quite as easy and relaxed as usual. "Stanley isn't around tonight. He went someplace."
"Oh? Well, that's good." It seemed a safe statement. If Stanley had been in jail, Jones would have said so. Any other place was bound to be better. I was being unjustifiably nosy, but curiosity wouldn't let me drop it. "Where did he go?"
Jones shrugged. Then, seriously, "To tell the truth, Ed, I don't rightly know. Fact is, I been a mite worried about old Stanley lately."
No one else was paying any attention to us. "So? How's that?"
"Well—" He shrugged again and then made a decision. "You know, Ed, it's a sort of a odd thing about Stanley. If you have a little time...?"