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Page 31
Tom Hopkins weighs one hundred and ninety-eight. He gave me another
somnolent grin, and fell into deeper slumber. I would have made him move
about, but I might as well have tried to make Cleopatra's needle waltz
around the room with me. Tom's breathing became stertorous, and that, in
connection with morphia poisoning, means danger.
Then I began to think. I could not rouse his body; I must strive to
excite his mind. "Make him angry," was an idea that suggested itself.
"Good!" I thought; but how? There was not a joint in Tom's armour. Dear
old fellow! He was good nature itself, and a gallant gentleman, fine and
true and clean as sunlight. He came from somewhere down South, where they
still have ideals and a code. New York had charmed, but had not spoiled,
him. He had that old-fashioned chivalrous reverence for women, that -- Eur
eka! -- there was my idea! I worked the thing up for a minute or two in my
imagination. I chuckled to myself at the thought of springing a thing
like that on old Tom Hopkins. Then I took him by the shoulder and shook
him till his ears flopped. He opened his eyes lazily. I assumed an
expression of scorn and contempt, and pointed my finger within two inches
of his nose.
"Listen to me, Hopkins," I said, in cutting and distinct tones, "you and I
have been good friends, but I want you to understand that in the future my
doors are closed against any man who acts as much like a scoundrel as you
have."
Tom looked the least bit interested.
"What's the matter, Billy?" he muttered, composedly. "Don't your clothes
fit you?"
"If I were in your place," I went on, "which, thank God, I am not, I think
I would be afraid to close my eyes. How about that girl you left waiting
for you down among those lonesome Southern pines -- the girl that you've
forgotten since you came into your confounded money? Oh, I know what I'm
talking about. While you were a poor medical student she was good enough
for you. But now, since you are a millionaire, it's different. I wonder
what she thinks of the performances of that peculiar class of people which
she has been taught to worship -- the Southern gentlemen? I'm sorry,
Hopkins, that I was forced to speak about these matters, but you've
covered it up so well and played your part so nicely that I would have
sworn you were above such unmanly tricks"
Poor Tom. I could scarcely keep from laughing outright to see him
struggling against the effects of the opiate. He was distinctly angry,
and I didn't blame him. Tom had a Southern temper. His eyes were open
now, and they showed a gleam or two of fire. But the drug still clouded
his mind and bound his tongue.
"C-c-confound you," he stammered, "I'll s-smash you."
He tried to rise from the couch. With all his size he was very weak now.
I thrust him back with one arm. He lay there glaring like a lion in a
trap.
"That will hold you for a while, you old loony," I said to myself. I got
up and lit my pipe, for I was needing a smoke. I walked around a bit,
congratulating myself on my brilliant idea.
I heard a snore. I looked around. Tom was asleep again. I walked over
and punched him on the jaw. He looked at me as pleasant and ungrudging as
an idiot. I chewed my pipe and gave it to him hard.
"I want you to recover yourself and get out of my rooms as soon as you
can," I said, insultingly. "I've told you what I think of you. If you
have any honour or honesty left you will think twice before you attempt
again to associate with gentlemen. She's a poor girl, isn't she?" I
sneered. "Somewhat too plain and unfashionable for us since we got our
money. Be ashamed to walk on Fifth Avenue with her, wouldn't you?
Hopkins, you're forty-seven times worse than a cad. Who cares for your
money? I don't. I'll bet that girl don't. Perhaps if you didn't have it
you'd be more of a man. As it is you've made a cur of yourself, and" -- I
thought that quite dramatic -- "perhaps broken a faithful heart." (Old Tom
Hopkins breaking a faithful heart!) "Let me be rid of you as soon as
possible."
I turned my back on Tom, and winked at myself in a mirror. I heard him
moving, and I turned again quickly. I didn't want a hundred and
ninety-eight pounds falling on me from the rear. But Tom had only turned
partly over, and laid one arm across his face. He spoke a few words
rather more distinctly than before.
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