"Mr. Chames, what's doing here? Put me next to de game. Is it de old lay? You'll want me wit' youse, I guess?"
Jimmy laughed, and shut the door on his dreams.
"I'd quite forgotten I hadn't told you about myself, Spike. Do you know what a baronet is?"
"A baronet's the noblest work of man, Spike. I am one. Let wealth and commerce, laws and learning--or is it art and learning?--die, but leave us still our old nobility. I'm a big man now, Spike, I can tell you."
"My position has also the advantage of carrying a good deal of money with it."
"You have grasped it. Plunks. Dollars. Doubloons. I line up with the thickwads now, Spike. I don't have to work to turn a dishonest penny any longer."
The horrid truth sank slowly into the other's mind.
"Say! What, Mr. Chames? Youse don't need to go on de old lay no more? You're cutting it out for fair?"
Spike gasped. His world was falling about his ears. Now that he had met Mr. Chames again he had looked forward to a long and prosperous partnership in crime, with always the master mind behind him to direct his movements and check him if he went wrong. He had looked out upon the richness of London, and he had said with Blücher: "What a city to loot!"
And here was his leader shattering his visions with a word.
"Have another drink, Spike," said the lost leader sympathetically. "It's a shock to you, I guess."
"I know you did, and I'm very sorry for you. But it can't be helped. _Noblesse oblige_, Spike. We of the old aristocracy mustn't do these things. We should get ourselves talked about."
Spike sat silent, with a long face. Jimmy slapped him on the shoulder.
"After all," he said, "living honestly may be the limit, for all we know. Numbers of people do it, I've heard, and enjoy themselves tremendously. We must give it a trial, Spike. We'll go out together and see life. Pull yourself together and be cheerful, Spike."
After a moment's reflection the other grinned, howbeit faintly.
"That's right," said Jimmy Pitt. "You'll be the greatest success ever in society. All you have to do is to brush your hair, look cheerful, and keep your hands off the spoons. For in society, Spike, they invariably count them after the departure of the last guest."
"Sure," said Spike, as one who thoroughly understood this sensible precaution.