nickname Gertrude brought from school.

"I have brought a guest, Aunt Ray," Halsey said. "I want you to
adopt him into your affections and your Saturday-to-Monday list.
Let me present John Bailey, only you must call him Jack. In
twelve hours he'll be calling you `Aunt': I know him."

We shook hands, and I got a chance to look at Mr. Bailey; he was
a tall fellow, perhaps thirty, and he wore a small mustache. I
remember wondering why: he seemed to have a good mouth and when
he smiled his teeth were above the average. One never knows why
certain men cling to a messy upper lip that must get into
things, any more than one understands some women building up
their hair on wire atrocities. Otherwise, he was very good to
look at, stalwart and tanned, with the direct gaze that I like.
I am particular about Mr. Bailey, because he was a prominent
figure in what happened later.

Gertrude was tired with the trip and went up to bed very soon. I
made up my mind to tell them nothing; until the next day, and
then to make as light of our excitement as possible. After all,
what had I to tell? An inquisitive face peering in at a window;
a crash in the night; a scratch or two on the stairs, and half a
cuff-button! As for Thomas and his forebodings, it was always my
belief that a negro is one part thief, one part pigment, and the
rest superstition.

It was Saturday night. The two men went to the billiard-room,
and I could hear them talking as I went up-stairs. It seemed
that Halsey had stopped at the Greenwood Club for gasolene and