news? 'Fahzer's killed a pleeceman!' cry the tiny, eager voices. Candy is served out all round in honor of the event. Golden-haired little Jimmy Mullins, my god-son, gets a dime for having thrown a stone at a plain-clothes detective that afternoon. All is joy and wholesome revelry. Take my word for it, Spike, there's nothing like domesticity."
"Dere was a goil once," said Spike, meditatively. "Only, I was never her steady. She married a cop."
"She wasn't worthy of you, Spike," said Jimmy, sympathetically. "A girl capable of going to the bad like that would never have done for you. You must pick some nice, sympathetic girl with a romantic admiration for your line of business. Meanwhile, let me finish shaving, or I shall be late for dinner. Great doings on to-night, Spike."
Spike became animated.
"Sure, boss! Dat's just what—"
"If you could collect all the blue blood that will be under this roof to-night, Spike, into one vat, you'd be able to start a dyeing-works. Don't try, though. They mightn't like it. By the way, have you seen anything more—of course, you have. What I mean is, have you talked at all with that valet man, the one you think is a detective?"
"Why, boss, dat's just—"
"I hope for his own sake he's a better performer than my old friend, Galer. That man is getting on my nerves, Spike. He pursues me like a smell-dog.
