_June 18th_
I suspected that I might be trailed from the alleged diamond broker's
office back to my work, and I hoped that I might be. Evidently I was
yesterday. On my way to my luncheon place on Thirty-Fourth street I
ran into my fat friend. He came towards me with his coat-tails flying.
He has very large feet which slap the pavement resoundingly. His knees
give a little which furnishes an undulatory motion, a roll to his walk.
He hailed me blithely, and immediately announced that he was looking
for a bite to eat. Somewhat sullenly, for I did not wish to appear too
glad to see him, I confessed that I was on the same errand, and we
turned into the dairy restaurant together. He laid himself out to win
my liking. His loud, jolly, fat-man ways provide a cover for a
considerable astuteness. It was my game to make out that I was
startled to be found in that neighbourhood, and that my conscience was
none too good. It was his game to put me at my ease and have it
understood that everything went between friends. Nothing was said,
however, about his business or mine.
I stuck to my lately-arrived immigrant story, and he symphathised with
my lonesomeness in a strange land. He was a bachelor, he said, and
often lonesome himself. This line led presently to an invitation for
me to join him last night for a little sociability at the Turtle Bay
Café on Lexington Avenue. I accepted it. I am sure by his eagerness
to cultivate my acquaintance that he knows I work in Dunsany's.
I met him at eight o'clock, and we secured a little table to ourselves
in a sort of alcove. The Turtle Bay is just one of the usual saloons,
mahogany, plate glass and electric lights. The principal lure of such
places is the dazzling flood of light they cast on the pavement. They
have discovered the subtle psychological appeal of light. Away with
night and its terrors!
My fat friend was liberally hospitable. I allowed my suspicious sullen
manner to be charmed away by degrees. In a way he is really
entertaining with his gross humour and rude vitality. I suppose any
one can charm when they have a mind to. The cloven hoof, however,
peeped out in his brutal snarls at the newsies and beggars who came to
our table. On the whole I enjoyed myself. It was a lot better than
mooning in my wretched room, or wandering the sultry streets thinking
of the cool and comfortable club.
The will being good on both sides we got along famously. No actual
confidences have passed between us yet, but we are ripe for them. As
we mellowed together I allowed it to peep out that I had a bitter
grudge against society, and would stop at nothing to feed it. He
enthusiastically applauded my sentiments.
"Life is a bank!" he said, "that's got to be busted into if a man wants
to enjoy any of the good things!"
I am to call him George Pawling. We have a date to meet at the Turtle
Bay again to-morrow night. I hinted that I might have another diamond
or two.
I was glad to hear from you that this man is undoubtedly one of the
gang. So I am on the right track!