"That fool Frazier!" groaned McAllister. "How the devil could he have
thought I had gone away?" Then he remembered that he had directed the
valet to pack his bags and send them to the station, in anticipation of
the Winthrops' invitation.
He was at his wits' end.
"How do you get bail, Wilkins?"
"You 'ave to find someone as owns real estate in the city, sir, to go on
your bond. 'Ow much is it?"
"Five thousand dollars," replied McAllister.
"'Oly Moses!" ejaculated the valet. He regarded his former master with
renewed interest.
But the dinner had wrought a change in that hitherto subdued individual.
With a valet and running water he was beginning to feel his oats a
little. He checked off mentally the names of his acquaintances. There
was not one left in town.
He repressed a yawn, and looked at his watch. One o'clock. Just then the
gong rang again.
"What in thunder is this, now?"
"Afternoon service, sir. City Mission from one to two-thirty."
"Ye gods!" ejaculated McAllister.
A band of young girls came and stood with their hymn-books along the
opposite tier, while a Presbyterian clergyman took the place on the
bridge recently vacated by his Episcopal brother. Prayers alternated
with hymns until the sermon, which lasted sixty-five minutes.
McAllister, almost desperate, fretted and fumed until half past two,
when the choir and missionary finally departed.
"Only a 'arf 'our, sir, an' we can get some more hexercise," said
Wilkins encouragingly.
But McAllister did not want exercise. He swung to his feet, and peering
disconsolately through the bars was suddenly confronted by an anæmic
young woman holding an armful of flowers. Before he could efface himself
she smiled sweetly at him.
"My poor man," she began confidently, "how sorry I am for you this
beautiful Christmas _Day_! Please take some of these; they will brighten
up your cell wonderfully; and they are so fragrant." She pushed a dozen
carnations and asters through the bars.
McAllister, utterly dumfounded, took them.
"What is your name?" continued the maiden.
"Welch!" blurted out our bewildered friend.
There was a stifled snort from the bunk behind.
"Good-by, Welch. I know you are not _really_ bad. Won't you shake hands
with me?"
She thrust her hand through the bars, and McAllister gave it a
perfunctory shake.
"Good-by," she murmured, and passed on.
"Lawd!" exploded Wilkins, rolling from side to side upon his cot. "O
Lawd! O Lawd! O--" and he held his sides while McAllister stuck the
carnations into the wash-basin.
The gong again, and once more that endless tramp along the hot tiers.
The prison grew darker. Gas-jets were lighted here and there, and the
air became more and more oppressive. With five o'clock came supper; then
the long, weary night.
Next morning the valet seemed nervous and excited, eating little
breakfast, and smiling from time to time vaguely to himself. Having
fumbled in his pocket, he at last pulled out a dirty pawn-ticket, which
he held toward his master.
"'Ere, sir," he said with averted head. "It's for the pin. I'm sorry I
took it."
McAllister's eyes were a little blurred as he mechanically received the
card-board.
"Shake hands, Wilkins," was all he said.
A keeper came walking along the tier rattling the doors and telling
those who were wanted in court to get ready.
"Good-by," said McAllister. "I'm sorry you felt obliged to plead guilty.
I might have helped you if I'd only known. Why didn't you stand your
trial?"
"I 'ad my reasons," replied the valet. "I wanted to get my case disposed
of as quick as possible. You see, I'd been livin' in Philadelphia, and
'ad just come to New York when I was harrested. I didn't want 'em to
find out who I was or where I come from, so I just gives the name of
Davidson, and takes my dose."
"Well," said McAllister, "you're taking your own dose; I'm taking
somebody else's. That hardly seems a fair deal--now does it, Wilkins?
But, of course, you don't know but that I _am_ Welch."
"Oh, yes, I do, sir!" returned the valet. "You won't never be punished
for what he done."
"How do you know?" exclaimed McAllister, visions of a speedy release
crowding into his mind. "And if you knew, why didn't you say so before?
Why, you might have got me out. How do you know?" he repeated.
Wilkins looked around cautiously. The keeper was at the other end of the
tier. Then he came close to McAllister and whispered:
"_Because I'm Fatty Welch myself!_"