Down in the darkest corner of his soul
he was cursing Bob Grand for a scheming thief, and David Jenison for a
hopeless imbecile.
Before the wagons were well under way for the next stand he was dead
drunk in the alley back of the hotel bar, having first thrashed a
porter who undertook to eject him from the place.
Mrs. Braddock and Christine waited for him at the lot until the men
began to pull down the dressing-tent. David was with them. Not far
away was Joey Noakes, the center of a group of performers, held
together by his wonderful tale concerning the sensational bit of
pocketpicking that had occurred early in the evening. A congressman
had been "touched" for his purse and three hundred dollars while
waiting for a train at the depot. The town was wild over the theft.
In the midst of the narrative, Artful Dick sauntered up to the group,
coming, it seemed, from nowhere. The gossiper abruptly stopped his
tale.
"They say it's going to rain before morning," said Dick airily. "You
guys will get rust on your joints if you stay out in it. Ta-ta! I'm
looking for my brother. Seen him?"
He strolled on, as if he owned the earth.
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