There was heavy intake of breath and its slow expulsion, like the slow drip of blood. I’m told they are women! I will talk to Jones. “Shucks”, sniffed I, “you are not even men. One of the hefties stepped forward to snarl in my face, “We are honorable men!” No? Yes? Still how do I know you have William Jones captive? And if so, why is your price not higher? And do I have any reason to believe this will not happen every day? Maybe three times a day?” Or, maybe you do not care what happens to your husband’s brother…or maybe you would choose what is commonly referred to as ‘else’”.Īfter a long and reflective silence, I replied: “Else being the murder of young William Jones, I take it? Therefore, be it said, this money you want could be termed ransom. Said the leader of this unsavory pack, saying, “It seems you are thinking we do not mean business. “Roses do not grow out of such unpromising unfavorable soil,” I thought, summing up for future reference. “Something smelly and far wide of the truth,” thought I. “Is this not a bit irregular?”, said I, in very business-like tones, wondering a little about what my co-workers might be thinking about my being visited by these unkept gentry – from south of the railroad tracks – and knowing that something “smelly” would of necessity grow out of any deduction they made might make. They came to my work place, six strong, to announce that Bill Jones, the truant paternal uncle, owed them $36.00 which he had barrowed, and so they had come to collect it off me. The denizens of the asphalt jungle had not finished with me.
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