me no da same--have-a none of da luck--noding--nix!"

"Hard cheese, Tony!" quoth Spike. "But say, have you seen th' Spider
kickin' around?"

"No, I ain't! But you tell-a da Signorina--"

"Sure I will--"

"My lil' Pietro he love-a da Signorina; me, I love-a her--she so good,
so generosa, ah, yes!" And taking off his hat in one hand, Tony kissed
the other and waved it gracefully in the air.

"Right-o, Tony!" nodded Spike. "You can let it go at that. An' say--this
is me friend Geoff."

Tony gripped Mr. Ravenslee's hand and shook it.

"You one o' da bunch--one o' da boys, hey? Good-a luck." So saying, Tony
nodded, flashed his white teeth again, and seizing the handles of his
barrow, trundled off his peanut oven, whistling soft and shrill.

"Tony's only a guinney," Spike explained as they walked on again. "But
he's white, Geoff--'n' say, he's a holy terror in a mix-up! Totes one o'
them stiletto knives. I've seen him stab down into a glass full of water
an' never spill a drop, which sure wants some doing."

Evening was falling, and dismal Tenth Avenue was wrapping itself in
shadow, a shadow made more manifest by small lights that burned dismally
in small and dingy shops, a shadow, this, wherein moving shadows jostled