Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; College graduates -- Fiction; Gangsters -- Fiction
Now, such a tableau as Jimmy and his new acquaintance formed cannot be
staged at the corner of Randolph and La Salle beneath an arc light, even
at midnight, without attracting attention. And so it was that before
Jimmy realized it a dozen curious pedestrians were approaching them from
different directions, and a burly blue-coated figure was shouldering his
way forward.
Jimmy had permitted his captive to rise, but he still held tightly to
his wrist as the officer confronted them. He took one look at Jimmy's
companion, and then grabbed him roughly by the arm. "So, it's you again,
is it?" he growled.
"I ain't done nuthin'," muttered the man.
The officer looked inquiringly at Jimmy.
"What's all the excitement about?" asked the latter. "My friend and I
have done nothing."
"Your fri'nd and you?" replied the policeman. "He ain't no fri'nd o'
yours, or yez wouldn't be sayin' so."
"Well, I'll admit," replied Jimmy, "that possibly I haven't known him
long enough to presume to claim any close friendship, but there's no
telling what time may develop."
"You don't want him pinched?" asked the policeman.
"Of course not," replied Jimmy. "Why should he be pinched?"
The officer turned roughly upon the stranger, shook him viciously a few
times, and then gave him a mighty shove which all but sent him sprawling
into the gutter.
"G'wan wid yez," he yelled after him, "and if I see ye on this beat
again I'll run yez in. An' you"--he turned upon Jimmy--"ye'd
betther be on your way--and not be afther makin' up with ivery dip ye
meet."
"Thanks," said Jimmy. "Have a cigar."
After the officer had helped himself and condescended to relax his stern
features into the semblance of a smile the young man bid him good night
and resumed his way toward the hotel.
"Pretty early to go to bed," he thought as he reached for his watch to
note the time, running his fingers into an empty pocket. Gingerly he
felt in another pocket, where he knew his watch couldn't possibly be,
nor was. Carefully Jimmy examined each pocket of his coat and trousers,
a slow and broad grin illumining his face.
"What do you know about that?" he mused. "And I thought I was a wise
guy."
A few minutes after Jimmy reached his room the office called him on the
telephone to tell him that a man had called to see him.
"Send him up," said Jimmy, wondering who it might be, since he was sure
that no one knew of his presence in the city. He tried to connect the
call in some way with his advertisement, but inasmuch as that had been
inserted blind he felt that there could be no possible connection
between that and his caller.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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