The Definite Object Part 56

"The h.e.l.l he does!" exclaimed the Spider, starting to his feet.

"So he send-a da word to Soapy," continued Tony, his eyes rolling, "an'

now all-a da gang's out layin' for-a Geoff. So when Geoff go-a out on da street--bingo! Dey snuff hees light out--"

"Not much they won't!" said the Spider, b.u.t.toning up his coat and turning to the door. "I'll mighty soon fix this, I guess."

"Do you think you can, Spider?" enquired Ravenslee. "If you're going to have any trouble, don't bother about--"

"Bo," said the Spider, squaring his big jaw, "get onto this: here's where I chip in with ye; from now on we're in this game together, an'

I ain't a guy as'll lay down his hand till I'm called--an' called good, see? You said it was goin' t' be a man's work--by Jiminy Christmas, it looks like you're right; anyway, I stand in with you, that's sure--put it there, bo!"

"But," said Ravenslee, as their hands gripped, "I don't want you to take any chances on my account, or run any--"

"Fudge, bo, fudge! I ain't takin' no chances--"

"Well, I'm coming along to see you don't!" said Ravenslee, reaching for his hat.

"Not on your life, bo; you'd queer th' whole show. Y' see, they're a tough crowd an' apt t' act a bit hasty now an' then; 'sides, they might think you're heeled, and they know I don't never carry a gun--they all know me--"

"Still, I'm coming, Spider--"

"Y' can't, bo; Mrs. Trapes ain't goin' t' let ye--look at her!"

"You never spoke a truer word since you drawed the vital air, Spider Connolly!" nodded Mrs. Trapes, hands on hips and elbows at the "engage."

"If Mr. Geoffrey stirs out this day, he's jest gotter trample over my mangled remains, that's all!"

Heeding the glitter in her eye and noting the inexorable jut of her elbows, Ravenslee sat down and went on filling his pipe.

"Y' see, bo, I know as it wasn't you as give Bud away, an' the boys'll listen t' my say-so--you bet they will. So here's where I ooze away. S'

long, all!"

The Old Un, having bolted the last handful of cake, got upon his legs and clutched the Spider's coat in talon-like fingers.

"'Old 'ard, young feller, me lad!" he cried. "If there's any chance of a sc.r.a.p comin' off--wot about me? Gimme me 'at, Joe, an' get yourn; if I don't knock some on 'em stone cold--call me a peris.h.i.+n' a.s.s!"

"Why, since you say so, old blood an' bones," said Joe, his mild eye brightening, "we will step along with the Spider a little way if the Guv'nor'll excuse us?"

"Certainly, Joe," nodded Ravenslee, "on condition that you do just as the Spider says."

"You mean, sir?"

"No fighting, Joe--at least, not yet."

"Trust me, sir! What ain't to be--yet, is to be sometime, I 'opes,"

sighed Joe.

"Good-by, Guv, good-by!" croaked the Old Un, "if I don't put some o'

they perishers in the 'orspitals an' the infirmaries--I ain't the man I was--

"'Oh, used am I to war's alarms I 'unger for the fray, Though beauty clasps me in 'er arms The trumpet calls away.'"

So having made their adieux, the three took their departure; though once, despite Joe's objurgations, the Old Un must needs come back to kiss Mrs. Trapes's toil-worn hand with a flourish which left her voiceless and round of eye until the clatter of their feet had died away.

Then she closed the door and fixed Ravenslee with her stoniest stare.

"Mr. Geoffrey," she demanded, "why did they call you 'Guv'nor', and wherefore 'Sir'?"

Ravenslee, in the act of lighting his pipe, had paused for a suitable answer, when Tony, who had remained mute in a corner, stepped forward and spoke:

"Say, Geoff, I got-a bit-a more noos. Old-a Finlay-a want-a spik with-a you--"

"Old Finlay--with me?"

"Sure. Old-a Finlay-a go die-a ver' queek, an' he vant-a spik with-a you first."

"Dying! Old Finlay dying?" questioned Ravenslee, rising.

"Sure! He go die-a ver' queek."

"I'll come!"

"An' I guess," said Mrs. Trapes, "yes, I opine as I'll come along wi'

ye, Mr. Geoffrey."

Old Martin Finlay lay propped up by pillows, his great, gaunt, useless body seeming almost too large for the narrow bed wherein he lay, staring up great-eyed at Ravenslee--live eyes in a dead face.

"It's dying I am, sorr," said he faintly, "an' it's grateful is ould Martin for the docthers and medicine you've paid for. But it's meself is beyand 'em all--an' it's beyand 'em I'm goin' fast. She's waitin'

for me--me little Maggie's houlding out her little hand to me--she's waitin' for me--beyand, Holy Mary be praised! An' she's waited long enough, sorr, my little Maggie as I loved so while the harsh words burned upon me tongue--my little Maggie! I was bitter cruel to my little girl, but you've been kind to me, and, sorr, I thank ye. But," continued the dying man, slowly and feebly, "it aren't to thank yez as I wanted ye--but to give yez something in trust for Miss Hermy--ye see, sorr, I shant be here when she comes back to-night, I'll be with--little Maggie when the hour strikes--my little Maggie! Norah, wife--give it to him."

Silently Mrs. Finlay opened a drawer, and turning, placed in Ravenslee's hand a heavy gold ring curiously wrought into the form of two hands clasping each other.

"It was my Maggie's," continued Martin, "an' I guess she valleyed it a whole lot, sorr. I found it hid away with odds and ends as she treasured. But she don't want it no more--she's dead, ye see, sorr--I killed her--drowned, sorr--I drowned her. Cruel an' hard I was--shut her out onto the streets, I did, and so--she died. But before the river took--oh, Blessed Mary--oh, Mother O' G.o.d--pity! Before she went t'

heaven, Miss Hermy was good t' her; Miss Hermy loved her and tried t'

comfort her--but only G.o.d could do that, I reckon--so she went t' G.o.d.

But Miss Hermy was kind when I wasn't, so, sorr, it's give her that ring ye will, plaze, an' say as poor Martin died blessing her. An' now it's go I'll ask ye, sorr, for G.o.d's callin' me to wipe away me tears an'

sorrers and bind up me broken heart--so lave me to G.o.d and--my little Maggie--"

Very softly Ravenslee followed Mrs. Trapes out of the room, but they had not reached the front door when they heard a glad cry and thereafter a woman's sudden desolate sobbing.

"Go on, Mr. Geoffrey," whispered Mrs. Trapes. "But I guess I'd better stay here a bit."

"You mean--?"

"As poor Martin's sure found his little girl again!"