pgw.piccadillyjim-第17部分

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　lose　her　place　as　a　world　power。
　A　selection　having　finally　been　agreed　upon；　the　orchestra　struck　up　〃My　Little　Grey　Home　in　the　West；〃　and　no　attempt　was　made　to　pete　with　it。　When　the　last　lingering　strains　had　died　away　and　the　violinist…leader；　having　straightened　out　the　kinks　in　his　person　which　the　rendition　of　the　melody　never　failed　to　produce；　had　bowed　for　the　last　time；　a　clear；　musical　voice　spoke　from　the　other　side　of　the　pillar。
　〃Jimmy　Crocker　is　a　worm！〃
　Jimmy　spilled　his　cocktail。　It　might　have　been　the　voice　of　Conscience。
　〃I　despise　him　more　than　any　one　on　earth。　I　hate　to　think　that　he's　an　American。〃
　Jimmy　drank　the　few　drops　that　remained　in　his　glass；　partly　to　make　sure　of　them；　partly　as　a　restorative。　It　is　an　unnerving　thing　to　be　despised　by　a　red…haired　girl　whose　life　you　have　just　saved。　To　Jimmy　it　was　not　only　unnerving；　it　was　uncanny。　This　girl　had　not　known　him　when　they　met　on　the　street　a　few　moments　before。　How　then　was　she　able　to　display　such　intimate　acquaintance　with　his　character　now　as　to　describe　himjustly　enoughas　a　worm？　Mingled　with　the　mystery　of　the　thing　was　its　pathos。　The　thought　that　a　girl　could　be　as　pretty　as　this　one　and　yet　dislike　him　so　much　was　one　of　the　saddest　things　Jimmy　had　ever　e　across。　It　was　like　one　of　those　Things　Which　Make　Me　Weep　In　This　Great　City　so　dear　to　the　hearts　of　the　sob…writers　of　his　late　newspaper。
　A　waiter　bustled　up　with　a　high…ball。　Jimmy　thanked　him　with　his　eyes。　He　needed　it。　He　raised　it　to　his　lips。
　〃He's　always　drinking〃
　He　set　it　down　hurriedly。
　〃and　making　a　disgraceful　exhibition　of　himself　in　public！　I　always　think　Jimmy　Crocker〃
　Jimmy　began　to　wish　that　somebody　would　stop　this　girl。　Why　couldn't　the　little　man　change　the　subject　to　the　weather；　or　that　stout　child　start　prattling　about　some　general　topic？　Surely　a　boy　of　that　age；　newly　arrived　in　London；　must　have　all　sorts　of　things　to　prattle　about？　But　the　little　man　was　dealing　strenuously　with　a　breaded　cutlet；　while　the　stout　boy；　grimly　silent；　surrounded　fish…pie　in　the　forthright　manner　of　a　starving　python。　As　for　the　elder　woman；　she　seemed　to　be　wrestling　with　unpleasant　thoughts；　beyond　speech。
　〃I　always　think　that　Jimmy　Crocker　is　the　worst　case　I　know　of　the　kind　of　American　young　man　who　spends　all　his　time　in　Europe　and　tries　to　bee　an　imitation　Englishman。　Most　of　them　are　the　sort　any　country　would　be　glad　to　get　rid　of；　but　he　used　to　work　once；　so　you　can't　excuse　him　on　the　ground　that　he　hasn't　the　sense　to　know　what　he's　doing。　He's　deliberately　chosen　to　loaf　about　London　and　make　a　pest　of　himself。　He　went　to　pieces　with　his　eyes　open。　He's　a　perfect；　utter；　hopeless　WORM！〃
　Jimmy　had　never　been　very　fond　of　the　orchestra　at　the　Regent　Grill；　holding　the　view　that　it　interfered　with　conversation　and　made　for　an　unhygienic　rapidity　of　mastication；　but　he　was　profoundly　grateful　to　it　now　for　bursting　suddenly　into　La　Boheme；　the　loudest　item　in　its　repertory。　Under　cover　of　that　protective　din　he　was　able　to　toy　with　a　steaming　dish　which　his　waiter　had　brought。　Probably　that　girl　was　saying　all　sorts　of　things　about　him　still　but　he　could　not　hear　them。
　The　music　died　away。　For　a　moment　the　tortured　air　quivered　in　parative　silence；　then　the　girl's　voice　spoke　again。　She　had；　however；　selected　another　topic　of　conversation。
　〃I've　seen　all　I　want　to　of　England；〃　she　said；　〃I've　seen　Westminster　Abbey　and　the　Houses　of　Parliament　and　His　Majesty's　Theatre　and　the　Savoy　and　the　Cheshire　Cheese；　and　I've　developed　a　frightful　home…sickness。　Why　shouldn't　we　go　back　to…morrow？〃
　For　the　first　time　in　the　proceedings　the　elder　woman　spoke。　She　cast　aside　her　mantle　of　gloom　long　enough　to　say　〃Yes；〃　then　wrapped　it　round　her　again。　The　little　man；　who　had　apparently　been　waiting　for　her　vote　before　giving　his　own；　said　that　the　sooner　he　was　on　board　a　New　York…bound　boat　the　better　he　would　be　pleased。　The　stout　boy　said　nothing。　He　had　finished　his　fish…pie；　and　was　now　attacking　jam　roll　with　a　sort　of　morose　resolution。
　〃There's　certain　to　be　a　boat；〃　said　the　girl。　〃There　always　is。　You've　got　to　say　that　for　Englandit's　an　easy　place　to　get　back　to　America　from。〃　She　paused。　〃What　I　can't　understand　is　how；　after　having　been　in　America　and　knowing　what　it　was　like；　Jimmy　Crocker　could　stand　living　。　。　。〃
　The　waiter　had　e　to　Jimmy's　side；　bearing　cheese；　but　Jimmy　looked　at　it　with　dislike　and　shook　his　head　in　silent　negation。　He　was　about　to　depart　from　this　place。　His　capacity　for　absorbing　home…truths　about　himself　was　exhausted。　He　placed　a　noiseless　sovereign　on　the　table；　caught　the　waiter's　eye；　registered　renunciation；　and　departed　soft…footed　down　the　aisle。　The　waiter；　a　man　who　had　never　been　able　to　bring　himself　to　believe　in　miracles；　revised　the　views　of　a　life…time。　He　looked　at　the　sovereign；　then　at　Jimmy；　then　at　the　sovereign　again。　Then　he　took　up　the　coin　and　bit　it　furtively。
　A　few　minutes　later；　a　hat…check　boy；　untipped　for　the　first　time　in　his　predatory　career；　was　staring　at　Jimmy　with　equal　intensity；　but　with　far　different　feelings。　Speechless　concern　was　limned　on　his　young　face。
　The　missionaire　at　the　Piccadilly　entrance　of　the　restaurant　touched　his　hat　ingratiatingly；　with　the　smug　confidence　of　a　man　who　is　accustomed　to　getting　sixpence　a　time　for　doing　it。
　〃Taxi；　Mr。　Crocker？〃
　〃A　worm；〃　said　Jimmy。
　〃Beg　pardon；　sir？〃
　〃Always　drinking；〃　explained　Jimmy；　〃and　making　a　pest　of　himself。〃
　He　passed　on。　The　missionaire　stared　after　him　as　intently　as　the　waiter　and　the　hat…check　boy。　He　had　sometimes　known　Mr。　Crocker　like　this　after　supper；　but　never　before　during　the　luncheon　hour。
　Jimmy　made　his　way　to　his　club　in　Northumberland　Avenue。　For　perhaps　half　an　hour　he　sat　in　a　condition　of　a　in　the　smoking…room；　then；　his　mind　made　up；　he　went　to　one　of　the　writing…tables。　He　sat　awaiting　inspiration　for　some　minutes；　then　began　to　write。
　The　letter　he　wrote　was　to　his　father：
　Dear　Dad：
　I　have　been　thinking　over　what　we　talked　about　this　morning；　and　it　seems　to　me　the　best　thing　I　can　do　is　to　drop　out　of　sight　for　a　brief　space。　If　I　stay　on　in　London；　I　am　likely　at　any　moment　to　pull　some　bone　like　last　night's　which　will　spill　the　beans　for　you　once　more。　The　least　I　can　do　for　you　is　to　give　you　a　clear　field　and　not　interfere；　so　I　am　off　to　New　York　by　to…night's　boat。
　I　went　round　to　Percy's　to　try　to　grovel　in　the　dust　before　him；　but　he　wouldn't　see　me。　It's　no　good　grovelling　in　the　dust　of　the　front　steps　for　the　benefit　of　a　man　who's　in　bed　on　the　second　floor；　so　I　withdrew　in　more　or　less　good　order。　I　then　got　the　present　idea。　Mark　how　all　things　work　together　for　good。　When　they　e　to　you　and　say　〃No　title　for　you。　Your　son　slugged　our　pal　Percy；〃　all　you　have　to　do　is　to　e　back　at　them　with　〃I　know　my　son　slugged　Percy；　and　believe　me　I　didn't　do　a　thing　to　him！　I　packed　him　off　to　America　within　twenty…four　hours。　Get　me　right；　boys！　I'm　anti…Jimmy　and　pro…Percy。〃　To　which　their　reply　will　be　〃Oh；　well；　in　that　case　arise；　Lord　Crocker！〃　or　whatever　they　say　when　slipping　a　title　to　a　deserving　guy。　So　you　will　see　that　by　making　this　getaway　I　am　doing　the　best　I　can　to　put　things　straight。　I　shall　give　this　to　Bayliss　to　give　to　you。　I　am　going　to　call　him　up　on　the　phone　in　a　minute　to　have　him　pack　a　few　simple　tooth…brushes　and　so　on　for　me。　On　landing　in　New　York；　I　shall　instantly　proceed　to　the　Polo　Grounds　to　watch　a　game　of　Rounders；　and　will　cable　you　the　full　score。　Well。　I　think　that's　about　all。　So　good…byeor　even　farewellfor　the　present。
　J。
　P。S。　I　know　you'll　understand；　dad。　I'm　doing　what　seems　to　me　the　only　possible　thing。　Don't　worry　about　me。　I　shall　be　all　right。　I'll　get　back　my　old　job　and　be　a　terrific　success　all　round。　You　go　ahead　and　get　that　title　and　then　meet　me　at　the　entrance　of　the　Polo　Grounds。　I'll　be　looking　for　you。
　P。P。S。　I'm　a　worm。
　The　young　clerk　at　the　steamship　offices　appeared　rejoiced　to　see　Jimmy　once　more。　With　a　sunny　smile　he　snatched　a　pencil　from　his　ear　and　plunged　it　into　the　vitals　of　the　Atlantic。
　〃How　about　E。　a　hundred　and　eight？〃
　〃Suits　me。