“You are Hermione’s brother!”

“My God!” wailed the boy.  “If she knew, she’d hate me.”

“I—­almost think she would, Spike.”

“You won’t tell her, Geoff, you won’t never let her know?”

“I—­don’t get drunk, Spike.”

“But you won’t tell her?” he pleaded, reaching out desperate hands, “you won’t?”

“Not a word, Spike!”

“Oh, I know I’m—­rotten!” sobbed the lad.  “I know you ain’t got no use for me any more, but I’m sorry, Geoff, I’m real sorry.  I know a guy can’t forgive a guy as gives a guy away if that guy’s a guy’s friend.  I know as you can’t forgive me.  I know as you’ll cut me out for good after this.  But I want ye t’ know as I’m sorry, Geoff—­awful sorry—­I—­I ain’t fit t’ be anybody’s friend, I guess.”

“I think you need a friend more than ever, Spike!”

“Geoff!” cried the boy breathlessly.  “Say—­what d’ you mean?”

“I mean the time has come for you to choose between M’Ginnis and me.  If I am to be your friend, M’Ginnis must be your enemy from now on—­wait!  If you want my friendship, no more secrets; tell me just how M’Ginnis got you into his power—­how he got you to break into my house.”

Spike glanced up through his tears, glanced down, choked upon a sob, and burst into breathless narrative.

“There was me an’ Bud an’ a guy they call Heine—­we’d been to a rube boxin’ match up th’ river.  An’ as we come along, Heine says:  ’If I was in th’ second-story-lay there’s millionaire Ravenslee’s wigwam waitin’ t’ be cracked,’ an’ he pointed out your swell place among th’ trees in th’ moonlight.  Then Bud says:  ‘You ain’t got th’ nerve, Heine.  Why, th’ Kid’s got more nerve than you,’ he says, pattin’ my shoulder.  An’ Heine laughs an’ says I’m only a kid.  An’ Geoff, I’d got two or three drinks into me an’ th’ end was I agreed t’ just show ’em as I had nerve enough t’ get in through a winder an’ cop something—­anything I could get.  So Bud hands me his ‘lectric torch, an’ we skin over th’ fence an’ up to th’ house—­an’ Heine has th’ winder open in a jiffy, an’ me—­bein’ half-soused an’ foolish—­hikes inter th’ room, an’ you cops me on th’ jump an’—­an’ that’s all!”

“And M’Ginnis has threatened to send you up for it now and then, eh?”

“Only for a joke.  Bud ain’t like me; he’d never split on a pal—­Bud wouldn’t gimme away—­”

“Anyway, Spike, it’s him or me.  Which will you have for a friend?”

“Oh, Geoff, I—­I guess I’d follow you t’ Kingdom Come if you’d let me.  I do want t’ live straight an’ clean—­honest t’ God I do, Geoff, an’ if you’ll only forgive—­”

Spike’s outstretched, pleading hands were caught and held, and he was lifted to his feet.

“My Arthur-Spike, art going to the office this morning?”

“Sure I am; my eye ain’t—­ain’t s’ bad, after all, is it?  Anyway, I feel more like what a man should feel like now, an’—­Gee! look at me doin’ the sissy tear-spoutin’ act!  Oh, hell—­lemme go an’ wash me face.  ‘N’ say, if—­if any o’ them—­I mean those dolly office boys has anything t’ say, I’ll punch th’ sawdust out o’ them!”