Читать книгу The Thubway Tham MEGAPACK ® - Johnston McCulley - Страница 5

THUBWAY THAM, FASHION PLATE

Having partaken of an excellent breakfast, Thubway Tham strolled from the little restaurant, lighted a cigarette, and wandered toward Union Square like a man who is pleased with life and what it offers.

It had been three days since Tham had invaded the subway for the purpose of “lifting a leather.” Tham was in funds due to a windfall of a week before, when a wallet he had obtained by nefarious means proved to hold a considerable amount.

“Thith ith great weather,” Tham told himself.

Autumn was in the air, men and women walked with a swinging stride, eyes sparkled; hot summer was behind, and cold winter still some distance ahead. Thubway Tham enjoyed it. His breakfast had been good, and his cigarette tasted better than usual.

“Muth have made a mithtake and put thome tobacco in thith one,” Tham decided.

He went around Union Square and continued toward the north, having no particular place to go. For two days he had not seen Craddock, the one detective who trailed him with a determination that was creditable, and who had sworn to catch him “with the goods” some fine day, much to Thubway Tham’s amusement. Tham enjoyed his conflict with Craddock; it kept him alert, which is good for any man known to officers of the law as a professional pickpocket of more than usual ability.

In time, Tham stopped before the window of an art store to look at the pictures displayed there. Somebody touched him on the shoulder. Tham did not flinch, as crooks are supposed to do when anybody touches them on the shoulder. He merely turned slowly, inquiry in his countenance. “Nifty” Noel stood before him.

It may be remarked that Nifty Noel was a sort of jack-of-all-trades in the underworld, and seemed to be prosperous. The mode of the moment, as far as clothes were concerned, was not quite modern enough for Noel. He was a delight to the eye. His shirts were things of beauty, his coat and trousers possessed an ultra-fashionable cut; he wore spats and carried a stick, and always had the latest in hats on his head tilted in a becoming fashion. Noel was a walking fashion plate; Thubway Tham was not.

“I haven’t seen you for some time, Tham,” said Nifty Noel. “Where have you been keeping yourself?”

“Jutht around,” Tham replied.

“I thought maybe you’d been sick; you certainly do look seedy.”

“Tho?”

“Yes. You aren’t beginning to feel your age, are you?”

“Thay!”

“Well, you look it. Slowing up, Tham? On the square, haven’t you been sick?”

“Thertainly not,” Tham declared.

“Look frayed and frazzled, you do. Been working too hard or something, I guess. The bulls haven’t been worrying you, have they?”

“Nothin’ of the thort!”

“Come on, now, tell an old pal what the trouble is. I’m dead willing to help. I always liked you, Tham.”

“Thay, there ain’t anything the matter with me!”

“Just between ourselves, Tham. Maybe I can help you a lot. You must either be sick, or else you’re worrying too much. Worry is bad business, Tham, and you should know it. Walk on down the street with me and spill it. I’m right here with the helping hand, old-timer.”

“My goodneth! There ain’t anything the matter with me, I thaid. Where do you get that thtuff? What ith the matter with you yourthelf? You make me thick!”

“Surely you can trust me, Tham,” said Nifty Noel. “I’m a square guy, I am.”

“Nobody thaid you wath not thquare.”

“Then come through with your tale of woe. Is it coin?”

“I have all the coin I need.”

“Better let me help you, Tham. There’s a hollow look around your eyes and the corners of your mouth are drawn. You’re pale, too. Been getting plenty of sleep?”

Thubway Tham snarled at him and turned his back.

“Anxious to help you, Tham,” Noel went on. “You look like you were down on your luck. You certainly do look seedy. Don’t you ever get your pants pressed? And look at the wrinkles in that coat! And no shine! Good Lord, Tham, I hate to see an old-timer like you go to pieces—”

“Thay,” Tham cried, whirling upon him, “I feel all right and I am all right. Thee? And you are a thilly ath!”

Thubway Tham walked briskly up the street and left Nifty Noel standing at the curb swinging his stick and looking after him, a thoughtful expression upon his face. Tham turned the corner and made his way toward Broadway. Why, he had remarked to himself a few minutes before meeting Noel that the weather was great, and that he felt great, that breakfast had been good, and the cigarette made from real tobacco! And now this Nifty Noel spoke as if—

Tham began wondering whether he really was all right. Possibly those hot cakes he had eaten would give him a slight attack of indigestion. Come to think of it, he was experiencing a sort of tired feeling. And his head felt light, just as it does when—

“It ith juth the talk of that thimp,” Tham declared to himself. “He ith enough to make any man thick. I am all right. I thaid I wath all right, and I am all right. I thay it again—I am all right.”

He turned another corner, and bumped into Detective Craddock. The officer grinned, and Thubway Tham removed his cap and scratched at his head.

“It wath a fine day until juth a thecond ago,” he announced. “Tho I thee your ugly fathe again, do I?”

“You certainly do, Tham, old boy. I haven’t had the pleasure of looking into your glowing countenance for a few days. Been behaving yourself?”

“I alwayth behave mythelf.”

“Tell that to some infant, Tham. You couldn’t behave yourself in the subway, and you know it. How are the wallets running now, fat and juicy?”

“Thay! Juth becauthe I wath railroaded up the river on the—”

“Don’t make me laugh now, Tham! Cut out that innocent stuff with me,” said Craddock. “I’ve been neglecting you for a few days and keeping an eye on a certain other gent who likes to pick up a jewel here and there. But he’s behind bars now, Tham, where I’ll have you some day.”

“It theemth to me that I have heard thomething like that before,” Tham told him.

“All jokes aside, Tham, old boy, what’s the matter with you?”

“With me? I am all right. I juth wath thayin’ to mythelf that I am all right.”

“Trying to kid yourself along, are you? Really, Tham, you do look pretty seedy.”

Tham blinked his eyes rapidly as he surveyed the detective. “Where do you get that thtuff?” he demanded. “What ith the matter with me, Craddock?”

“Look sick,” Craddock commented. “Been drinking?”

“You know I don’t drink.”

“Smoking too much, perhaps. How are your nerves?”

“Thay! I’m all right, I thaid!”

“It’s all right to try to influence yourself that way, Tham, and I admire a man who won’t give up; but when a man is really sick, he’d better call a doctor.”

“Well, my goodneth,” Tham cried. “I ain’t thick! Ith everybody in thith town crathy?”

“Run down at the heels, too,” Craddock commented. “Business must have been bad with you lately. You wouldn’t be a bad-looking chap, Tham, if you’d spruce up a bit. But some men don’t know how to dress.”

“Ith that tho?”

“Well, take care of yourself, Tham, old boy. I’ve got a little business on now, but I’ll have my eye on you a little later. I’ll get you yet, old-timer!”

Detective Craddock hurried on down the street. Thubway Tham stood at the curb and watched the seething traffic without seeing it. Was he sick? Did he look pale?

He stepped back to a show window and looked at his reflection there.

“I am all right,” he stubbornly declared again. “I juth need a thave and a hair cut and a mathage. Thith thuit ith an old one, too. I need thome new thenery!”

Then and there, in some peculiar manner and without being heralded, twin ideas were born in the brain of Thubway Tham. The first was that if a man got seedy as to clothes and general appearance, that condition was reflected in his thoughts and manner. So, to be full of “pep,” and alive to the experiences of the moment, a man should dress well and force himself to respect himself, thus forcing other folk to do the same.

The second idea was that Nifty Noel enjoyed a reputation for sartorial display that should be dimmed and put in the background.

“He ith no better lookin’ than I am,” Thubway Tham declared to himself. “The thilly ath thinkth he ith the only man that can wear clothe.”

Tham chuckled as he walked on up the street, slowly, allowing the twin ideas to expand. He had ample funds, and he really needed clothes. Why not play a double game? Why not purchase clothing that would influence his disposition and health, and at the same time dim the luster of Nifty Noel, dude of New York’s underworld?

“It would be a good thtunt,” Thubway Tham decided, after due reflection. “It ith a long time thinthe I have given anybody a thock. It thall be done!”

Tham walked briskly now, and stopped to look in at the windows of establishments that catered to gentlemen who desired to wear clothing that would attract attention. Presently he turned and walked back, and went into a store he had noticed, one noted for its window displays. A salesman took Tham in charge, and there followed a lengthy conversation.

The salesman was an artist in his line, without doubt. He made suggestions—some of them with his hand before his lips to hide a smile—and Thubway Tham accepted the majority of the suggestions as excellent.

Finally, Thubway Tham departed from the establishment with several large bundles beneath his arms, and left behind a sum of money that substantially increased the salesman’s totals for the week.

II.

For business reasons, Thubway Tham lived in a lodging house that was conducted by a reformed convict, and where the other tenants were gentlemen liable at any time to a visit from the police. The rooms were small and not over-clean, the hallways were dark, the stairs were rickety.

The landlord, who really operated quite a decent place of its kind, had a habit of sitting behind the battered desk in the office, from where he could watch every one who entered or left the place. It was his habit, too, to speak to men of his ilk of the good old days when he had been an active criminal, the burden of his song being that criminals of the present day were a ladylike brood who feared to crack a skull or carry a gun.

Thubway Tham, having listened to these recitals often, had become a sort of pet of the landlord’s. He always greeted Thubway Tham with a smile and a wave of his hand, and had been known, upon two occasions, to give Tham a cigar.

It was no more than natural, then, that the landlord was waiting to see Tham leave the place the following morning. Tham was regular—he generally went down the stairs and out for his breakfast at the same hour.

The landlord glanced at the clock on the morning after Tham made his purchases, and wondered why Tham did not put in an appearance; it was fifteen minutes past the hour. For an instant he had a fleeting thought that Tham might be ill and confined to his bed, but he decided to wait half an hour longer before climbing the rickety stairs to ascertain whether that was the truth.

And then he blinked his eyes and got up slowly from his chair, his hand reaching mechanically in a drawer of the desk, where he kept an old revolver about which he had woven many fanciful tales. Down the rickety stairs was coming a man that the landlord felt sure he never had seen before.

Nifty Noel in all his glory never had been arrayed like this. The landlord saw, first, a suit of clothes that fairly shrieked its presence. The pattern, to say the least, had not been designed with a thought toward modesty. The style was more than ultra-fashionable.

Then there was a shirt that made Joseph’s coat a thing of drab inconspicuousness. There were yellow gloves and spats to match, and a hat with a yellow ribbon for a band. This being who descended the rickety stairs also carried a stick like a willow wand.

The landlord blinked his eyes again and decided to allow the gun to remain in the desk and resort to his fists. He opened and closed his hands, shot out his lower jaw, gritted his teeth, and narrowed his eyes.

“Say, you!” he called in stentorian tones.

The being turned to face him, and the landlord collapsed.

“Thay it,” Thubway Tham advised. “I wath thinkin’ of thomethin’ and didn’t mean to path without thpeakin’.”

“Is—is that you, Tham?”

“It thertainly ith! Did you think it wath a cop?”

“No cop would dare appear at headquarters dressed like that, Tham,” the landlord said, his tone sorrowful. “I didn’t think it of you, Tham. Here I’ve been your close friend, and all that, and let everybody know it—”

“What theemth to be the matter?” Tham wanted to know.

“You must have been workin’ too hard, Tham, and it’s touched your brain. You ain’t goin’ insane with age, are you?”

“Thay!”

“Is that a shirt, Tham?”

“Thome thirt!”

“I’ll say it is. I’ll remark that it certainly, without doubt, all others to the contrary, is some shirt. Looks like it had been made out of scraps!”

“Thay! I paid good coin for that thirt.”

“Have those gloves faded, Tham, or is that their natural color? My eyes ain’t as good as they were once, and I’ve only got one at that; but them gloves—”

“Your act ith good,” Tham commented.

“And the band around your hat is lemon, Tham—lemon! It’s as yellow as a stool pigeon, Tham! To think I have lived to see this. And everybody in this end of town knows that you’re a friend of mine. What have I ever done to you, Tham, that you should bring my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave?”

“I’ll bring them to the grave, all right, if you don’t thtop your nonthenthe,” Tham declared. “Ith it thomethin’ awful if a man dretheth up now and then?”

“Oh, so you are dressed up? Where is the masquerade, Tham, and why don’t they hold it at night instead of morning? Got your mask in your pocket? What are you supposed to represent, anyway? I’ll bet you’ll have all of ’em guessin’.”

“Your remarkth,” said Tham, “are thilly!”

“Maybe so, Tham—maybe so! But let me say—Great and noble Sing Sing! What are you carryin’ around that long lead pencil for? Is that a part of the costume?”

“A lead—Thay! That ith a cane, you thimp!”

“A cane,” the landlord said, gasping. “He says it is a cane. Well, we have been pals for several years, Tham, and far be it from me to contradict you. A cane! Mighty Auburn!”

Thubway Tham glared at him, flicked an imaginary spot of dust from the sleeve of his coat, twirled his stick, and went on down the stairs to the street. Tham was painfully conscious of his clothes, but judged that the feeling would wear away. He swung down the street to his favorite restaurant, entered as usual, and took his place at the regular table. The customary waitress went forward to take his order.

Tham did not notice that the girl grinned and winked at another, for he was busy glancing over the morning paper. And when his breakfast arrived he ate it quickly, picked up his check, and hurried to the cashier’s cage.

The little cashier Tham knew well. He had eaten there for more than a year, and she had been in the cage during that time. Once, Tham had made her a present of a box of candy, and once he had hustled away a man who had endeavored to convince the little cashier that she should wine and dine with him.

And so Tham and the little cashier were friends in a way, and could talk to each other frankly.

“Good mornin’,” Tham said. “It ith a nithe day.”

“It’s all of that,” said the little cashier. “Oh, boy! Did you lose a bet?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“How long do you have to wear ’em? It’s better than rollin’ a peanut around the block, at that!”

“I don’t theem to get you,” Tham complained.

“I’ll say it’s some scenery, boy!”

“Thome thenery ith right,” said Tham, realizing at last. “There ith clath to it.”

“Yeh! But there are all kinds of classes,” said the little cashier. “Why waste steam blowin’ sirens to welcome the homecomin’ heroes when they could hire you to stand down on the Battery? Noise? Oh, lad!”

“Do I gather,” Thubway Tham asked, “that you do not like thith outfit?”

“I trust that you do, little one.”

“Well, what ith the matter with it?”

“Um! You’re askin’ a mouthful, and I’m a busy woman. If I start in to tell you what’s the matter with that outfit, I’d have to do it in installments.”

“You are a great little kidder,”’ Tham said.

“All jokes aside, boy, why are you wearin’ ’em? Did you really lose a bet? Are you workin’ at some advertisin’ scheme now? Slip it to me; I’ll keep mum.”

Thubway Tham gulped, and a glare came into his eyes. “There ith a time,” he replied, “when a joke theatheth to be a joke. You have had your merry jetht, and let it go at that. Thith thtuff ith thtyle—get me? If you ever went north of Fourteenth Threet you’d know it!”

“Is—that—so? Let me tell you; boy, that I know more about style than half these fashion experts. Fourteenth Street, huh? I live in the Bronx, you simp.”

Without further comment Tham turned and went out upon the street again.

III.

Nifty Noel turned the corner and started southward. This morning he wore the latest in gentlemanly apparel, and was well satisfied with himself. His cigarette protruded from the holder at an angle that expressed the self-confidence of the man who smoked.

Looking far ahead, Noel beheld the approach of a burst of radiance. He blinked his eyes and looked again. The street was thronged, yet the one who approached stood out from the others as if in bas-relief.

Nifty Noel stopped, stood back against the entrance of an office building, and waited. Now and then he looked at the stranger, and then away. It was a crucial moment with Noel; the next minute would tell whether there was a worthy rival for his honors.

Again he turned to look, and then he smiled. There was no denying the splendor of the cloth, yet there was something wanting in the style. Then Noel recognized Thubway Tham, and grinned.

Tham, dodging a hurrying messenger boy, swung in toward the entrance of the building and felt somebody touch him on the shoulder. He turned slowly, to face the grinning Noel.

“Well, Tham, how are you feeling today?” Noel asked.

“I am all right,” Tham stubbornly replied. “It ith a nithe day and I am all right. I am not thick or pale or got hollowth under my eyeth. I am all right.”

“Um!” Noel grunted. “Why don’t you dress up now and then, Tham? I told you the other day that I am here with the helping hand if you happen to be a bit short.”

“I’ve got all the coin I need at prethent,” Tham declared.

“Then why, in the name of Broadway, don’t you loosen up and spend some of it? Why not get some clothes?”

“What do you think thith ith that I am wearin’?” Tham asked, with some show of anger.

“Heaven alone knows, Tham. I supposed it was some old stuff you had in your trunk; supposed you were unable to buy new duds at present.”

“Thay! Thethe are new dudth,” Tham declared. “You are juth jealouth, that ith all!”

“You’ve been stung, Tham. It’s a loud suit, I’ll admit, old-timer, but look at the cut of it. Those lapels are out of date, and the curls of the trousers are too wide. And the coat has a semi-fitting back. Hips a little too full, too.”

“Thay!”

“And your gloves and spats are off a couple of shades, Tham. And you shouldn’t wear a lemon-colored hatband, really, you know. It isn’t being done this season. Mouse gray is the thing, Tham. Somebody must have steered you wrong, old-timer. Did you really buy those things recently? I believe you’re spoofing me.”

“‘I’ll thpoof you with a fitht to the eye,” Tham threatened. “Thith outfit ith the very latetht, and you know it. You’re thore becauthe thomebody elthe ith drethed up, that ith all”

“Do not cause me to indulge in undue merriment, Tham, please,” Noel said. “I believe you are up to some clever trick. You wouldn’t wear those things unless there was a mighty good reason for it. Is it some sort of a joke, Tham? Tell a fellow!”

Thubway Tham’s face turned red, and he gulped and seethed with rage. For a moment Nifty Noel was a bit afraid that Thorn would so far forget himself as to indulge in fisticuffs, and Noel was not noted for fighting. But Tham seemed to think better of it.

“Ath!” he cried, exploding; and then he went on his splendid way up the street.

It was his ill fortune to meet Detective Craddock in the middle of the next block.

“Good Lord!” Craddock exclaimed.

“Thome thenery, eh?” Tham asked. “I wath gettin’ rundown, and everybody thought that I muth be thick, and tho I thought I’d buy me thome new clothe.”

“Shades of Beau Brummel!” Craddock said, gasping. “Did you pay real money for that stuff, Tham? You’re a crook, and I know it, but I won’t stand for you being fleeced yourself. You just give me the name of the thief who sold you that mess of duds, Tham, and I’ll threaten him with the law. It’s a crime and a shame—”

“Thay, what ith the matter with theth thingth anyway?” Tham demanded.

“It’s beyond me, Tham. You’ll have to ask an expert. But, speaking strictly as a layman and not as an authority, I should say that the ensemble was incorrect, whatever that may mean. There appears to be something lacking. Maybe it isn’t that; maybe it is that there is too much present and not enough lacking. What a delicate shade to those gloves.”

“It ith, ain’t it?”

“And a yellow ribbon on your hat. Fancy!”

“It thertainly ith,” said Tham.

“Well, I’m glad of one thing, Tham. I won’t have to keep my eyes peeled so much. You’ll have a hard time dodging me in a crowd as long as you wear that scenery. With one eye shut and the other closing rapidly, as the sport writers say, I could observe you half a mile away, Tham, against a background of water dancing in the sunshine. I’ll say you are to be seen!”

“Tho?”

“So! I’m not sure that I shouldn’t take you in and have you investigated in regard to your sanity.”

“Thay! When I wath in Atlantic Thity thome time ago, I thaw loth of men drethed louder than thith.”

“Possibly, Tham. But this is not Atlantic City.”

“Thee here,” said Tham, “are you goin’ to pethter me today?”

“Possibly, Tham. One never knows,” Craddock replied. “But I don’t think it’ll be necessary today.”

“No?”

“No. The wallets of the gentry are safe, Tham, old boy, as far as you are concerned. Farewell, Tham!”

Craddock, chuckling, walked on down the street, and for a time Thubway Tham stood at the curb looking after him and wondering what he had meant. He was glad, at least, that Craddock did not remain with him. For Tham had spent considerable money on new attire, and felt that he should replenish his funds.

It would soon be rush hour in the subway, and that was Tham’s period of work. One fat wallet would repay him for what he had spent, he knew. And getting a wallet should not be difficult.

Tham walked on up the street until he came to Times Square. Somehow, dressed as he was, he felt that he belonged there. It was a district where fashionable clothes were appreciated, Tham thought.

He noticed, as he loitered along the street, that he was attracting considerable attention, both from men and women.

“Thome clath,” Tham’ whispered to himself. “Noel wath jealouth—and tho wath Craddock. Can’t wear clotheth, can’t I? I’ll thay I can!”

He descended into the subway and caught a train going downtown. And then the thought came to him that he would not be able to work if he carried the cane. There was no crook on the end of it, so that he could hang it over his arm. Tham felt that it would be in the way if he attempted to lift a leather, and yet he did not want to throw it away.

He left the train at Pennsylvania Station and hurried to the checkroom. The attendant blinked his eyes when he saw Thubway Tham before him, and he marveled again when Tham announced that he wished to check his stick.

“You act like it wath not uthual,” Tham complained, as he received his check.

“Anything is usual, boy,” the check clerk told him. “If you’d worked in this station a couple of years, as I have, you’d know that there ain’t any such thing as a new kind of a nut.”

Tham digested that as he walked away. He stopped on the flight of steps for a time, wondering what train to take, waiting to receive a “hunch,” and he was not insensible to the fact that he was attracting attention.

Finally he went to the subway platform again and boarded a downtown train. The car was comfortably crowded, and Thubway Tham stood. That was as he wished, for he wanted to be in a position to study his fellow passengers and pick out a victim.

Tham turned around slowly and looked about the car. It seemed that every pair of eyes was upon him. Tham was conspicuous, and he did not care to be at present. Moreover, there did not appear to be a likely victim aboard.

Tham left the train in the financial district. It was rush hour in truth, now, a time meant for pickpockets. Tham, if he worked this day, would have to be about it.

He loitered near a subway entrance, watching those about him, and hoping a prospective victim would put in an appearance. Two men came to “a stop directly before him. They looked prosperous, and Thubway Tham decided that they were brokers. What interested him most was that one pulled out a wallet and took a bill from it to hand to the other. Tham’s eyes bulged when he saw what was in the wallet—a pad of currency, the majority of the bills being for one hundred dollars each.

Tham continued to watch. The wallet was returned to the man’s hip pocket.

“Why, the ath ought to be robbed,” Tham told himself. “Anybody who carrieth a wallet in a hip pocket ith a thimp! If he only goeth into the thubway—”

He did. Thubway Tham followed at his heels, his heart rejoicing. Getting a wallet from a hip pocket was an easy job, as Tham knew from experience. And that certain wallet contained enough to repay him for what he had expended, and would purchase considerable more new “scenery,” should Tham desire.

An uptown express roared in, and Tham followed the prosperous-looking man into a crowded car. A quick glance assured Tham that no officer of the law was among those present. The train darted away from the station, and Tham got as close as possible to his intended victim and awaited the proper moment for the work.

Tham always lifted a leather just as the train was going into a station. There always was some confusion in a crowded car at that moment, and Tham, the wallet in his possession, could dart out of the car and up the steps to the street, and be in safety before the victim discovered his loss.

Tham glanced around the car again—and ground his teeth. It appeared that every man and woman near him was watching him closely. In every direction he faced, he found eyes peer-ing into his. Young women were smiling at him openly. “Older women were grinning. Men had peculiar expressions in their faces.

Tham knew better than to attempt to lift the wallet at that moment. He supposed that it was the “scenery” that was attracting all this attention to him. The train pulled into the station, and Tham could not do his work. And the victim left the car.

Tham left the car also. He had not given up in despair; he remembered the amount in the wallet. He followed the prosperous-looking individual to the street and along it, and saw him enter a small cafe, where another man met him.

It became evident that this was a luncheon engagement, and Tham decided to wait. He did not want to enter and order lunch himself, for fear the other would get through earlier and leave, and Tham did not intend to lose him.

He walked to the corner, crossed the street, went up the other side, and stood in a doorway from where he could watch the cafe entrance. The walk was thronged at that hour, and an endless stream of people were leaving the building and entering it. Thubway Tham found that he was attracting attention again. Now and then a remark was wafted gently in his direction, that cut him more deeply than he cared to admit.

Thubway Tham began to have the feeling that perhaps Nifty Noel and Detective Craddock had been right—that his clothes were just a shade too fashionable. But he did not spend much time thinking about that; he was remembering the fat wallet.

“Thothe thimpth muth have ordered everything in the plathe,” he growled to himself.

But, in time, his prospective victim and the other man emerged from the cafe, and Tham went to the corner and crossed the street, and so came up behind them. If that man went into the subway again, and still had the wallet in his hip pocket, Tham intended to replenish his funds in great fashion.

Down the street he followed, and saw the two men separate at a corner. And the one Tham had marked as his own hurried straight toward a subway entrance.

“Thome luck at latht,” Tham mused. “Everything cometh to the man what waith, and I thertainly waited thome little time!”

They were forced to spend a few minutes waiting for a downtown express, and when the prosperous-looking man boarded it, Tham was right behind him. The car was only half crowded, yet there were enough passengers to make Tham’s work comparatively safe.

Tham glanced around the car swiftly, to make sure that there was no officer of his acquaintance aboard, and then he lurched forward and came to a stop just behind the broker. Everything seemed to be as Tham wished it. He had only to wait, now, until the train stopped at the next station, until the passengers began crowding through the doors, and then he would do his work and be on his way, leaving the victimized broker behind.

He glanced around the car again, and again he gnashed his teeth in rage. Every person who could see Thubway Tham was looking at him intently, examining him from hat to shoes, smiling, chuckling. Tham did not dare make a move, and it pained him when he thought of the fat wallet.

Was he to lose the chance to get that currency just because he was dressed so well that everybody observed him? Was he to fail in regaining the money spent for the new scenery?

The train reached the station, and the prosperous-looking one left the car. Tham was at his heels, but did not dare attempt to get the wallet. Every eye was upon him. And he was overhearing remarks again.

“Looks like a lighthouse!”

“Some of those window dressers sure do dress up their dummies in funny ways!”

“Suppose it escaped from the zoo?”

Thubway Tham, his face burning, a snarl on his lips, turned away from the prospective victim and went up the street. Rage was in his soul. He did not care for the comments, still being sure they were born of jealousy, but when he thought of the wallet he had lost, he cursed the idea of new clothes.

A hand touched him on the shoulder. Tham whirled around to find himself facing Detective Craddock.

“Well, Tham, how does the scenery go?” Craddock asked. “Makes you feel nervous and self-conscious, doesn’t it? I noticed that you didn’t seem yourself in the train.”

“Tho?”

“So. I had my two eyes on you, Tham, and I guess everybody else did. I was in the car ahead, you see, but standing so I could watch you. Hard luck, wasn’t it, Tham? I noticed that you had a victim all picked out and ready to slaughter. Tough luck, Tham!”

Thubway Tham did not reply. He turned his back and walked rapidly toward the lodging house he called home. The check clerk at the Pennsylvania Station, Tham knew, would have a slender cane forever. And a certain landlord would see him arrayed just once more—as he entered the building. And some old clothes man would get a bargain!

“New thenery ith all bunk,” declared Thubway Tham. “A man cannot work when he ith drethed up. Therveth me right for tryin’ to imitate an ath like Nifty Noel.”