He was staring out across the empty snow-strewn
Square at the lights in Archibald McBride's windows.
"Remember," said Gilmore, moving toward the door. "I'll talk to you when
you got two thousand dollars."
"Damn you, where do you think I'll get it?" cried Langham.
"I'm not good at guessing," laughed Gilmore.
He turned without another word or look and left the room. His footsteps
echoed loudly in the hall and on the stairs, and then there was silence
in the building. Langham was again looking out across the Square at the
lights in Archibald McBride's windows.
CHAPTER FOUR
ADVENTURE IN EARNEST
Mr. Shrimplin had made his way through a number of back streets without
adventure of any sort, and as the night and the storm closed swiftly in
about him, the shapes of himself, his cart and of wild Bill disappeared,
and there remained to mark his progress only the hissing sputtering
flame, that flared spectrally six feet in air as the little lamplighter
drove in and out of shabby unfrequented streets and alleys.
It had grown steadily colder with the approach of night, and the wind
had risen. The streets seemed deserted, and Mr. Shrimplin being as he
was of a somewhat fanciful turn of mind, could almost imagine himself
and Bill the only living things astir in all the town.
He reached Water Street, the western boundary of that part of Mount Hope
known as the flats. He jogged past Maxy Schaffer's Railroad Hotel at the
corner of Front Street, which flung the wicked radiance of its bar-room
windows along the shining railroad track where it crossed the creek on
the new iron bridge; and keeping on down Water Street with its smoky
tenements, entered an outlying district where the lamps were far apart
and where red and blue and green switch lights blinked at him out of the
storm.
It was nearly six o'clock when he at last wheeled into the Square; here
only three gasolene burners--survivors of the old regime--held their own
against the fast encroaching gas-lamp.
He lighted t
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