showed less plainly on their faces than it showed on the faces of these two men as they waited for the coming of the porter.
He came. He barely looked at us. "Full up," he said, and shut the door.
"Another night of it," groaned the Carpenter. In the dim light the Carter looked wan and gray.
Indiscriminate charity is vicious, say the professional philanthropists. Well, I resolved to be vicious.
"Come on; get your knife out and come here," I said to the Carter, drawing him into a dark alley.
He glared at me in a frightened manner, and tried to draw back. Possibly he took me for a latter day Jack-the-Ripper, with a penchant for elderly male paupers. Or he may have thought I was inveigling him into the commission of some desperate crime. Anyway, he was frightened.
It will be remembered, at the outset, that I sewed a pound inside my stoker's singlet under the armpit. This was my emergency fund, and I was now called upon to use it for the first time.
Not until I had gone through the acts of a contortionist, and shown the round coin sewed in, did I succeed in getting the Carter's help. Even then his hand was trembling so that I was afraid he would cut me instead of the stitches, and I was forced to take the knife away and do it myself.
