Another Man's Shoes

When you are really hungry, and have precisely one and sixpence to spend upon your dinner, the problem is one which requires a certain amount of consideration. I hesitated for some time between ---- and the ----. At ---- they give you four quite decent courses for a shilling, which leaves sixpence over for a drink and a tip for the waiter. On the other hand, the tablecloths are generally dirty, and the atmosphere of the place about as poisonous as that of a Chinese joss-house.

In this respect ---- is altogether its superior; but as a set-off, you don't get anything like as good a shilling's worth in the way of food. And food being my chief consideration at the moment, I finally decided on Parelli's.

As I pushed open the door, the first person I caught sight of was Billy Logan. For a moment I thought I must be mistaken, but a second glance showed me the long red scar running down from the corner of the eye, which Billy had brought away with him as his sole memento of an unsuccessful insurrection in Chile.

He was busy eating, and I walked quietly up to his table without his seeing me.

"Hullo, Billy!" I said. "What on earth are you doing in this peaceful spot?"

He looked up with a start. "Why, it's Jack Burton!" he cried. "Great Scott! man, I thought you were dead."

I pulled out a chair and seated myself opposite to him. "Sorry to disappoint you, Bill," I observed, "but I'm not fit to die just yet."

"It was that ass, Goldley," explained Billy, reaching across and gripping my hand, as though to make sure that I was really flesh and blood. "He told me you'd been knocked on the head at some God-forsaken place in Bolivia."

"Yes," I said dryly. "I believe there was a report to that effect. It suited me not to contradict it."

Billy grinned. "Well, I was a bit doubtful about it at the time. I couldn't see you getting wiped out by a dago."

"I precious nearly was, all the same," I said. "Here, waiter, table d'hote, and a bottle of lager."

"You're dining with me," interrupted Billy.

"In that case," I said, "I'll have a bottle of burgundy instead of the lager."

"Bring two," called out Billy. "And now let's hear all about it," he added, as the waiter slid rapidly away. "Last time I saw you was at that little dust-up we had in Buenos Ayres. D'you remember?"

"I do, Billy," I said. "It was on account of that I went for a health trip to Bolivia."

Billy chuckled. "I gather you didn't exactly find it."

I lit a cigarette, pending the arrival of the hors d'oeuvre. "I found something better than health, Billy," I said. "I found gold."

"Lord!" said Billy. "Where?"

"I don't think it's got a name," I replied. "Anyhow, I didn't wait to find out I was on my own, and the whole country was stiff with Indians. Look here." I pulled up my sleeve and showed him the traces of a very handsome pucker left by a well-directed arrow. "That's one of their visiting cards," I added.

Billy looked at it with the eye of a connoisseur. "You're lucky it wasn't poisoned," he remarked. "What about the gold?"

"I can find the place again all right," I said, "but I want money. It's not a one-man job. That's why I came to London."

"Got it?"

I shook my head. "On the contrary, I've spent what I had. They're a shy lot here, Billy--and I wasn't going to give the show away absolutely. I shall have to try New York."