Читать книгу Anybody's Pearls - Footner Hulbert - Страница 9

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Next morning Rulon showed up for breakfast at ten o’clock. He had to go the American Consulate before sailing, he explained. Over the breakfast table he displayed an unwonted interest in Dick’s affairs.

“Say, Kid, did you get that remittance from home?” he asked.

Dick thought: after yesterday, Mike owes me something. With a hundred thousand in his pocket he can well afford it, too. Aloud he said: “Aah! I was only bluffing. I don’t expect any remittance. And what’s more I haven’t any home, or any folks to send it.”

“The hell you say,” said Rulon cooly. He took half a slice of toast at a bite. “What’s the big idea, then? How you going to pay your bill here?”

“Search me!” said Dick. “When they present it, I’ll just walk out and leave ’em my bag.”

“Then what?”

“I dunno. The Embankment, I guess.”

“Meanwhile you wouldn’t object to makin’ a touch offen me?”

“No,” said Dick boldly.

“Do I look like the Panhandlers’ Friend?” asked Rulon with a hard smile. “Not so’s you could notice it. Yah! slack-twisted gentry I call them. I suppose you count on working your ‘charm’ for board and lodging. Is that a man’s life? If you had some idea now....”

“You gave me an idea yourself,” said Dick cunningly.

“What’s that?”

“There ought to be rich pickings in this town for a smart and nervy American.”

“There’s nothing to it, Kid!” said Rulon, wagging his big, shapely hand. “You can take it from me; I know life. That was on’y in the way of talkin’, see? You gotta run straight, boy. There ain’t but one man in ten thousand hard enough to get away with crime. The rest on’y flash in the pan. The law’n order combination is too strong for ’em.”

Dick did not believe that Rulon could be sincere in this. “Well, if you ask me,” he said, “there isn’t much in running straight, either.” He gave Rulon a fairly truthful sketch of his recent life in New York. “I’m fed up with it!” he concluded.

Rulon’s blue eyes bored into him like gimlets. “On the level?” he asked.

“On the level!” said Dick.

Rulon took out one of the long cigars. “Oh well, if you’re resolved upon it, it’s all right,” he said coolly. “I didn’t want to corrupt your young morals. Make your mind easy about the future, Kid. You can join up with me.”

Dick’s jaw dropped. This was more than he had bargained for.

Rulon was busy with the cigar. “I can use you very well in my biz,” he said between puffs. “You’ve got a classy appearance. You’ve been through college and all. You’ve got a well-oiled tongue....”

“But ... but ...” stammered Dick. “I was counting on staying over here.”

“Oh, we can return here,” said Rulon. “But you gotta learn your business first. Do you think you could keep ahead of these smart London police, a baby like you? Don’t make me laugh.” He bent his harsh and contemptuous smile on Dick. “You gotta get rid of all notions of beginning at the top, see? For years yet, you on’y got one thing to keep in mind, and that is to do what I tell you, see? I’ll break you in.”

God! what a fate! thought Dick. “Hadn’t we ... hadn’t we better think it over a bit?” he faltered.

“Think it over!” cried Rulon with a black face. “It’s the chance of a lifetime I’m offering you! I’ll make you a man like me!”

Not if I know it, thought Dick. He dared say no more.

“I’ll get you a berth on the Baratoria on Wednesday,” said Rulon. “There’s plenty of room going back at this season.”

Dick saw an opening. “You can’t take me on the Baratoria,” he said. “I’ve got no passport. You can’t afford to take any chances, with what you’re carrying.”

“Hell!” said Rulon, rolling the cigar and chewing it, “you’ll have to follow me over, then. Have a coupla photographs taken here; I’ll carry ’em back with me. I’ve got influence enough to get you a passport over there. I’ll mail it to you. It’ll on’y mean about three weeks delay.”

Dick breathed more freely. A lot could happen in three weeks.

“But you needn’t think I’m going to keep you in this flossy joint,” Rulon went on harshly. “We’ll find you a quiet lodging somewheres. I’ll pay your board there for three weeks in advance, and I’ll arrange so you’ll only have to call at the steamship office to get your ticket.”

Dick made bread pellets on the table-cloth. He judged that silence was the wiser part.

“What might your name be now?” asked Rulon.

“It might be anything,” said Dick. “Call me Kid Murray Hill.”

“Sure, that’s your privilege,” said Rulon indifferently. “What are you registered under here?”

“Just that,” said Dick; “K. Murray Hill.”

A sort of rumbling chuckle issued from Rulon. “Sounds almost English, don’t it?” he said.

There was a long silence. Dick did not look up, but he was well aware that Rulon was studying him with that sneer fixed in his wooden face. At last he spoke.

“You got an entirely wrong notion of life, Kid. You think you can get what you want out of people by accommodating yourself to them. I been watching you trying to accommodate yourself to me. Kinda uphill work, eh?”

Dick laughed in a rueful sort of way.

“Maybe you can work people by accommodating yourself to them,” Rulon went on; “but I say it’s an unmanly part. Besides, it makes the other man feel that he’s a better man than you, and he’s likely to round on you any time. No accommodation is my motto. Stand absolutely pat on that, and you’ll find that everybody else will fall all over themselves accommodating you!

“The world has grown soft nowadays. Leastways, soft-spoken. All men palaver each other until it would turn your stomach. Sometimes they do it with a purpose, but mostly they can’t help themselves, because they’re naturally slavish. Sea captains are about the only ones who keep a rough side to their tongues. Well, in a world full of soapsuds, a man who won’t stand for soap enjoys a great advantage. In a soft world a hard man takes ’em by surprise. Make yourself hard I tell you. To hell with right and wrong. Refuse to give way an inch under any circumstances, and you’ll have the other man whimpering with eagerness to accommodate himself to you.

“Mind you, I don’t mean to say that it ain’t useful to be able to meet the soft-soapers on their own ground. It’s a trick I ain’t got, and I regret it. Feed ’em all the soap they’ll take, and don’t take none from them. While your tongue drips oil, let them see by your hard eye that you don’t mean a word of it. That’s what makes the miserable soft-soapers turn in loops. It’s a hard eye that does the trick. Let men see that you don’t give a damn, and they are yours! The hard men are the free men; they go out and take what they want.”

Dick listened to this confession of faith with his mouth open, so to speak. At that moment Rulon’s fascination was stronger than ever. In a queer way he was right; and yet ... and yet ... well, young Dick was hopelessly confused, there were so many rights.

“I’ll give you an example of what I mean,” Rulon went on; “I’ll tell you what brought me over to England.”

Dick pricked up his ears.