“All right,” said Mr. Kelley, reassured.  “Now suppose we trek along home and go by-by.  I’ll write to the Secretary to-night and make a date with him.  It’s a ticklish job to get guns out of New York.  McClusky himself can’t do it.”

They parted at the door of the Hotel Espanol.  The General rolled his eyes at the moon and sighed.

“It is a great country, your Nueva York,” he said.  “Truly the cars in the streets devastate one, and the engine that cooks the nuts terribly makes a squeak in the ear.  But, ah, Senor Kelley—­the senoras with hair of much goldness, and admirable fatness—­they are magnificas!  Muy magnificas!”

Kelley went to the nearest telephone booth and called up McCrary’s cafe, far up on Broadway.  He asked for Jimmy Dunn.

“Is that Jimmy Dunn?” asked Kelley.

“Yes,” came the answer.

“You’re a liar,” sang back Kelley, joyfully.  “You’re the Secretary of War.  Wait there till I come up.  I’ve got the finest thing down here in the way of a fish you ever baited for.  It’s a Colorado-maduro, with a gold band around it and free coupons enough to buy a red hall lamp and a statuette of Psyche rubbering in the brook.  I’ll be up on the next car.”

Jimmy Dunn was an A. M. of Crookdom.  He was an artist in the confidence line.  He never saw a bludgeon in his life; and he scorned knockout drops.  In fact, he would have set nothing before an intended victim but the purest of drinks, if it had been possible to procure such a thing in New York.  It was the ambition of “Spider” Kelley to elevate himself into Jimmy’s class.

These two gentlemen held a conference that night at McCrary’s.  Kelley explained.

“He’s as easy as a gumshoe.  He’s from the Island of Colombia, where there’s a strike, or a feud, or something going on, and they’ve sent him up here to buy 2,000 Winchesters to arbitrate the thing with.  He showed me two drafts for $10,000 each, and one for $5,000 on a bank here.  ’S truth, Jimmy, I felt real mad with him because he didn’t have it in thousand-dollar bills, and hand it to me on a silver waiter.  Now, we’ve got to wait till he goes to the bank and gets the money for us.”

They talked it over for two hours, and then Dunn said; “Bring him to No. ——­ Broadway, at four o’clock to-morrow afternoon.”

In due time Kelley called at the Hotel Espanol for the General.  He found the wily warrior engaged in delectable conversation with Mrs. O’Brien.

“The Secretary of War is waitin’ for us,” said Kelley.

The General tore himself away with an effort.

“Ay, senor,” he said, with a sigh, “duty makes a call.  But, senor, the senoras of your Estados Unidos—­how beauties!  For exemplification, take you la Madame O’Brien—­que magnifica!  She is one goddess—­one Juno—­what you call one ox-eyed Juno.”

Now Mr. Kelley was a wit; and better men have been shriveled by the fire of their own imagination.