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"Go on!" he whispered hoarsely, "go on--what's keepin' you? If it's the
cops or croaking, I--I'd rather croak."
"Why?"
"'Cause if I was ever sent to--prison--it 'ud break her heart, I guess."
"Her heart?" said Mr. Ravenslee, and lowered the pistol.
"Me sister's."
"Ah--so you have a sister?" and Mr. Ravenslee sat up suddenly.
"Lots o' guys has, but there ain't a sister like mine in all N'
York--nor nowheres else."
"Who are you? What's your name?"
"Spike. Me real name's Arthur, but Arthur sounds kinder soft an' sissy;
nobody don't call me Arthur 'cept her, an' I don't mind her."
"And what's her name?"
"Hermy--Hermione, sir."
"Hermione--why, that's Greek! It's a very beautiful name!"
"Kind of fits her too!" nodded Spike, warming to his theme. "Hermy's
ace-high on the face and figure question! Why, there ain't a swell dame
on Fift' Av'ner, nor nowheres else, got anything on Hermy as a looker!"
"And what of your father and mother?"
"Ain't got none--don't remember having none--don't want none; Hermy's
good 'nuff for me.


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