"
"You're a dirty dog, Soapy, but you've got brains in your ugly dome,
I guess you're right about th' Kid, an' that gives me an almighty good
idea!" And M'Ginnis walked on awhile, deep in thought; and ever as he
went, so between those pale and puffy lids two malevolent eyes watched
and watched him.
"No," sighed Soapy at last, sliding a long, pale hand into the pocket of
his smartly-tailored coat, "no, I ain't got a sister, Bud, but there was
little Maggie Finlay. I kind o' used t' think she was all t' th' harps
an' haloes. I used t' kind o' hope--but pshaw! she's dead--ain't she,
Bud?"
"I guess so!" nodded M'Ginnis, yet deep in thought.
"An' buried--ain't she, Bud?"
"What th' hell!" exclaimed Bud, turning to stare, "what's bitin' ye?"
"I'm wonderin' 'why', an' I'm likewise wonderin' 'who', Bud. Maybe I'll
find out for sure some day. I'm--waitin', Bud, waitin'. Goin' around t'
O'Rourke's, are ye? Oh, well, I guess I'll hike along wid ye, Bud."
CHAPTER XIX
IN WHICH THE POISON BEGINS TO WORK
Spike sat glowering at the newspaper, yet very conscious, none the less,
that Hermione often turned to glance at him wistfully as she bustled to
and fro; at last she spoke.
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