The Life of the Party Page 4

stood Mr. Leary, shivering now in thereaction that had succeeded the nerve jar of being robbed at a pistol'spoint, and lacking the fervour of the chase to sustain him. For him theinconceivable disaster was complete and utter; upon him despairdescended as a patent swatter upon a lone housefly. Miles away fromhome, penniless and friendless--the two terms being practicallysynonymous in New York--what asylum was there for him now? Supposedaylight found him abroad thus? Suppose he succumbed to exposure and wasdiscovered stiffly frozen in a doorway? Death by processes ofcongealment must carry an added sting if one had to die in a suit ofpink rompers buttoning down the back. As though the thought of freezinghad been a cue to Nature he noted a tickling in his nose and a chokinessin his throat, and somewhere in his system, a long way off, so to speak,he felt a sneeze forming and approaching the surface.

  To add to his state of misery, if anything could add to its distressingtotal, he was taking cold. When Mr. Leary took cold he took itthoroughly and throughout his system. Very soon, as he knew by pastexperience, his voice would be hoarse and wheezy and his nose and hiseyes would run. But the sneeze was delayed in transit, and Mr. Learytook advantage of the respite to cast a glance about him. Perhaps--theexpedient had surged suddenly into his brain--perhaps there might be ahotel or a lodging house of sorts hereabouts? If so, such anestablishment would have a night clerk on duty, and despite thebaggageless and cashless state of the suppliant it was possible thenight clerk might be won, by compassion or by argument or by both, tofurnish Mr. Leary shelter until after breakfast time, when over thetelephone he could reach friends and from these friends procure anoutfit of funds and suitable clothing.

  In sight, though, there was no structure which by its outward appearancedisclosed itself as a place of entertainment for the casual wayfarer.Howsomever, lights were shining through the frosted panes of a row ofwindows stretching across the top floor of a building immediately athand, and even as he made this discovery Mr. Leary was aware of thedimmed sounds of revelry and of orchestral music up there, and also ofan illuminated canvas triangle stuck above the hallway entrance of theparticular building in question, this device bearing a letteredinscription upon it to advertise that here the members of the LawrenceP. McGillicuddy Literary Association and Pleasure Club were holdingtheir Grand Annual Civic Ball; admission One Dollar, including HatCheck; Ladies Free when accompanied by Gents. Evidently the Lawrence P.McGillicuddys kept even later hours at their roisterings than theBohemian sets in Washington Square kept.

  Observing these evidences of adjacent life and merry-makings Mr. Learycogitated. Did he dare intrude upon the festivities aloft there? And ifhe did so dare would he enter cavortingly, trippingly, with intent todeceive the assembled company into the assumption that he had come totheir gathering in costume; or would he throw himself upon their charityand making open confession of his predicament seek to enlist thefriendly offices of some kindly soul in extricating him from it?

  While he canvassed the two propositions tentatively he heard the thud offootsteps descending the stairs from the dance hall, and governed by anuncontrollable impulse he leaped for concealment behind a pile ofbuilding material that was stacked handily upon the sidewalk almost athis elbow. He might possibly have driven himself to face a multitudeindoors, but somehow could not, just naturally could not, in his presentapparel, face one stranger outdoors--or at least not until he hadopportunity to appraise the stranger.

  It was a man who emerged from the hallway entrance; a stockily built manwearing his hat well over one ear and with his ulster opened and flungback exposing a broad chest to the wintry air. He was whistling asprightly air.

  Just as this individual came opposite the lumber pile the firstdedicatory sneeze of a whole subsequent series of sneezes which had beenburgeoning somewhere in the top of Mr. Leary's head, and which thatunhappy gentleman had been mechanically endeavouring to suppress, burstfrom captivity with a vast moist report. At the explosion the passer-byspun about and his whistle expired in a snort of angered surprise as thebared head of Mr. Leary appeared above the topmost board of the pile,and Mr. Leary's abashed face looked into his.

  "Say," he demanded, "wotcher meanin', hidin' there and snortin' in aguy's ear?"

  His manner was truculent; indeed, verged almost upon the menacing.Evidently the shock had adversely affected his temper, to the pointwhere he might make personal issues out of unavoidable trifles.Instinctively Mr. Leary felt that the situation which had arisen calledfor diplomacy of the very highest order. He cleared his throat beforereplying.

  "Good evening," he began, in what he vainly undertook to make a casualtone of voice. "I beg your pardon--the sneeze--ahem--occurred when Iwasn't expecting it. Ahem--I wonder if you would do me a favour?"

  "I would not! Come snortin' in a guy's ear that-a-way and then askin'him would he do you a favour: You got a crust for fair!" Here, though, anatural curiosity triumphed over the rising tides of indignation. "Wotfavour do you want, anyway?" he inquired shortly.

  "Would you--would you--I wonder if you would be willing to sell me thatovercoat you're wearing?"

  "I would not!"

  "You see, the fact of the matter is I happened to be needing an overcoatvery badly at the moment," pressed Mr. Leary. "I was hoping that youmight be induced to name a price for yours."

  "I would not! M. J. Cassidy wears M. J. Cassidy's clothes, and nobodyelse wears 'em, believe me! Wot's happened to your own coat?"

  "I lost it--I mean it was stolen."

  "Stole?"

  "Yes, a robber with a revolver held me up a few minutes ago just overhere in the next cross street and he took my coat away."

  "Huh! Well, did you lose your hat the same way?"

  "Yes--that is to say, no. I lost my hat running."

  "Oh, you run, hey? Well, you look to me like a guy wot would run. Well,did he take your clothes, too? Is that why you're squattin' behind themtimbers?" The inquisitive one took a step nearer.

  "No--oh, no! I'm still wearing my--my--the costume I was wearing,"answered Mr. Leary, apprehensively wedging his way still farther backbetween the stack of boards and the wall behind. "But you see----"

  "Well then, barrin' the fact that you ain't got no hat, ain't you jestas well off without no overcoat now as I'd be if I fell for anyhard-luck spiel from you and let you have mine?"

  "I wouldn't go so far as to say that exactly," tendered Mr. Learyingratiatingly. "I'm afraid my clothing isn't as suitable for outdoorwear as yours is. You see, I'd been to a sort of social function and onmy way home it--it happened."

  "Oh, it did, did it? Well, anyway, I should worry about you and yourclothes," stated the other. He took a step onward, then halted; and nowthe gleam of speculative gain was in his eye. "Say, if I was willin' tosell--not sayin' I would be, but if I was--wot would you be willin' togive for an overcoat like this here one?"

  "Any price within reason--any price you felt like asking," said Mr.Leary, his hopes of deliverance rekindling.

  "Well, maybe I'd take twenty-five dollars for it just as it stands andno questions ast. How'd that strike you?"

  "I'll take it. That seems a most reasonable figure."

  "Well, fork over the twenty-five then, and the deal's closed."

  "I'd have to send you the money to-morrow--I mean to-day. You see, thethief took all my cash when he took my overcoat."

  "Did, huh?"

  "Yes, that's the present condition of things. Very annoying, isn't it?But I'll take your address. I'm a lawyer in business in Broad Street,and as soon as I reach my office I'll send the amount by messenger."

  "Aw, to hell with you and your troubles! I might a-knowed you was somenew kind of a panhandler when you come a-snortin' in my ear that-a-way.Better beat it while the goin's good. You're in the wrong neighbourhoodto be springin' such a gag as this one you just now sprang on me.Anyhow, I've wasted enough time on the likes of you."

  He was ten feet away when Mr. Leary, his wits sharpened by hisextremity, clutched at the last straw.

  "One moment," he nervous
ly begged. "Did I understand you to say yourname was Cassidy?"

  "You did. Wot of it?"

  "Well, curious coincidence and all that--but my name happens to beLeary. And I thought that because of that you might----"

  The stranger broke in on him. "Your name happens to be Leary, does it?Wot's your other name then?"

  "Algernon."

  Stepping lightly on the balls of his feet Mr. Cassidy turned back, andhis mien for some reason was potentially that of a belligerent.

  "Say," he declared threateningly, "you know wot I