He and I were raised here in New York, just like two brothers, together. I was
eighteen and Jimmy was twenty. The next morning I was to start for the West to
make my fortune. You couldn't have dragged Jimmy out of New York; he thought it
was the only place on earth. Well, we agreed that night that we would meet here
again exactly twenty years from that date and time, no matter what our conditions
might be or from what distance we might have to come. We figured that in twenty
years each of us ought to have our destiny worked out and our fortunes made,
whatever they were going to be."
"It sounds pretty interesting," said the policeman. "Rather a long time between
meets, though, it seems to me. Haven't you heard from your friend since you left?"
"Well, yes, for a time we corresponded," said the other. "But after a year or two
we lost track of each other. You see, the West is a pretty big proposition, and I kept
hustling around over it pretty lively. But I know Jimmy will meet me here if he's
alive, for he always was the truest, stanchest old chap in the world. He'll never
forget. I came a thousand miles to stand in this door tonight, and it's worth it if my
old partner turns up."
The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set with small
diamonds.
"Three minutes to ten," he announced. "It was exactly ten o'clock when we
parted here at the restaurant door."
"Did pretty well out West, didn't you?" asked the policeman.
"You bet! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of plodder,
though, good fellow as he was. I've had to compete with some of the sharpest wits
going to get my pile. A man gets in a groove in New York. It takes the West to put a
razor edge on him."
The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.
"I'll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Going to call
time on him sharp?"
"I should say not!" said the other. "I'll give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy
is alive on earth he'll be here by that time. So long, officer."
"Good night, sir," said the policeman, passing on along his beat, trying doors as
he went.
There was now a fine, cold drizzle falling, and the wind had risen from
its uncertain puffs into a steady blow. The few foot passengers astir in that
quarter hurried dismally and silently along with coat collars turned high and
pocketed hands. And in the door of the hardware store the man who had
come a thousand miles to fill an appointment, uncertain almost to absurdity,
with the friend of his youth, smoked his cigar and waited.
About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long overcoat,
with collar turned up to his ears, hurried across from the opposite side of the
street. He went directly to the waiting man.
"Is that you, Bob?" he asked, doubtfully.
"Is that you, Jimmy Wells?" cried the man in the door.
"Bless my heart!" exclaimed the new arrival, grasping both the other's
hands with his own. "It's Bob, sure as fate. I was certain I'd find you here if
you were still in existence. Well, well, well! Twenty years is a long time. The
old restaurant’s gone, Bob; I wish it had lasted, so we could have had another
dinner there. How has the West treated you, old man?"
"Bully; it has given me everything I asked it for. You've changed lots,
Jimmy. I never thought you were so tall by two or three inches."
"Oh, I grew a bit after I was twenty."
"Doing well in New York, Jimmy?"
"Moderately. I have a position in one of the city departments. Come on,
Bob; we'll go around to a place I know of, and have a good long talk about old
times."
The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from the West,
his egotism enlarged by success, was beginning to outline the history of his
career. The other, submerged in his overcoat, listened with interest.
At the corner stood a drug store, brilliant with electric lights. When they
came into this glare each of them turned simultaneously to gaze upon the
other's face.
The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm.
"You're not Jimmy Wells," he snapped. "Twenty years is a long time,
but not long enough to change a man's nose from a Roman to a pug."
"It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one, said the tall man.
You've been under arrest for ten minutes, 'Silky' Bob. Chicago thinks you
may have dropped over our way and wires us she wants to have a chat with
you. Going quietly, are you? That's sensible. Now, before we go on to the
station here's a note I was asked to hand you. You may read it here at the
window. It's from Patrolman Wells."
The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed him.
His hand was steady when he began to read, but it trembled a little by the time
he had finished. The note was rather short.
Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light
your cigar, I saw it was the face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn't do
it myself, so I went around and got a plainclothes man to do the job. JIMMY
