"Wait here a few
minutes," he said, leaving Ide in a quiet and shadowed spot. He
entered a familiar hotel, and strolled toward the bar quite in his
old assured way.
"There's a poor devil outside, Jimmy," he said to the bartender, "who
says he's hungry and looks it. You know what they do when you give
them money. Fix up a sandwich or two for him; and I'll see that he
doesn't throw it away."
"Certainly, Mr. Vallance," said the bartender. "They ain't all fakes.
Don't like to see anybody go hungry."
He folded a liberal supply of the free lunch into a napkin. Vallance
went with it and joined his companion. Ide pounced upon the food
ravenously. "I haven't had any free lunch as good as this in a year,"
he said. "Aren't you going to eat any, Dawson?
"I'm not hungry--thanks," said Vallance.
"We'll go back to the Square," said Ide. "The cops won't bother us
there. I'll roll up the rest of this ham and stuff for our breakfast.
I won't eat any more; I'm afraid I'll get sick. Suppose I'd die of
cramps or something to-night, and never get to touch that money
again! It's eleven hours yet till time to see that lawyer. You won't
leave me, will you, Dawson? I'm afraid something might happen. You
haven't any place to go, have you?"
"No," said Vallance, "nowhere to-night. I'll have a bench with you."
"You take it cool," said Ide, "if you've told it to me straight. I
should think a man put on the bum from a good job just in one day
would be tearing his hair.
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