Mr. Cooke made no secret of his admiration for Mr.
Drew, and there were just two things about him that Mr. Cooke admired and
wondered at, above all else,--the bushy red whiskers. But it appeared
that these were the only things that Mr. Drew was really touchy about.
I noticed that the detective, without being impolite, did his best to
discourage these remarks; but my client knew no such word as
discouragement. He was continually saying: "I think I'll grow some like
that, old man," or "Have those cut," and the like,--a kind of humor in
which the captain took an incredible delight. And finally, when a
certain pitch of good feeling had been arrived at, Mr. Cooke reached out
and playfully grabbed hold of the one near him. The detective drew back.
"Mr. Cooke," said he, with dignity, "I'll have to ask you to let my
whiskers alone."
"Certainly, old man," replied my client, anything but abashed. "You'll
pardon me, but they seemed too good to be true. I congratulate you on
them."
I was amused as well as alarmed at this piece of boldness, but the
incident passed off without any disagreeable results, except, perhaps,
a slight nervousness noticeable in the detective; and this soon
disappeared. As the sun grew low, the Celebrity's conductors straggled
in with fishing-rods and told of an afternoon's sport, and we left the
captain peacefully but sonorously slumbering on the bank.
"Crocker," said my client to me, afterwards, "they didn't feel like the
real, home-grown article.
Pages:
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144