FROM THE LIFE
"If it were only the case of the policeman and the thieves," Wickson said, at the court-house steps, "it might be a good thing to let them shoot. If it would attract attention to the conditions— But I don't want them simply to 'mangle' me."
Arnett caught him by the sleeve, alarmed by the very matter-of-factness of his tone. "My God! Wick! You're not going to do anything so foolish?"
Wickson smiled slowly at him in a sort of amused appraisal of his horror. "It isn't what I'm going to do that counts. It's up to them. I have to go ahead with my job. However, I don't believe they'll dare. ... You run along now and get to work on your bust. Come in and tell me how it goes, will you? I hope you're not going to do the old boy in the nude, like your 'Nymph.'"
Arnett laughed, nervously relieved by the jocularity. "I believe Harris got me the order so I'd have something to do with clothes on. He thinks I do the other because it sells—such being the depravity of the artistic rich!"
"Well, good-by," Wickson said. "Be good."
"And you be careful."
Wickson waved his hand and turned up the steps. Arnett brushed against the nonchalant Plummer as he hurried off.
And half-way down the block the sculptor remembered that he had seen this same man in the elevator—that he had seen him pass into the court-house, look around the corridor and come out.
[ 328 ]
