ne. A number of suits hung in rows on
one side and on the wall was a steel engraving showing Parisian Men's
Fashions of a dozen years before. As he owed for a consignment of velvet
khaki which Mr. Dainopoulos had picked up somewhere and sold him at a
noble profit, Mr. Theotokis was disposed to do his best for Mr.
Spokesly. So he took his measure and ascertained by painful
cross-examination what a chief officer's uniform was like. Yes, like
that, with one, two, three rows of lace, one quarter wide. H'm! And in
answer to the demand for a suit ready to wear, he sized Mr. Spokesly up
and nodded reflectively. He had something. He rummaged behind the
festoons of coats and drew out a fine pin-check suit such as sporting
characters affect in the country. He held it up and regarded it with
misgiving. It appeared from the book to be made to the order of one Jack
Harrowby, Transport _Tanganyika_. Mr. Spokesly started. Harrowby was one
of the wireless operators, a youth about his own build and distinctly
sporting in temperament. He remembered Harrowby, all right. Why had he
not fetched his suit? Mr. Theotokis shrugged his shoulders almost to his
ears and spread his hands. No money. Wanted to pay next trip. Another
phenomenal shrug. Mr. Theotokis was desolated to disappoint Jack
Harrowby, but no money, no suit. Mr. Spokesly recalled something Archy
Bates had said about Harrowby drawing a lot of money, having started a
tremendous love affair in town. Evidently he was going to cut a dash in
his pin-checks. Perhaps he looked forward to the races at Alexandria.
And now.... Mr. Spokesly pursed his lips firmly, took off the anomalous
coat he was wearing, and slipped his arms into Jack Harrowby's coat. It
was an extremely good fit. Jack Harrowby's trousers needed turning up
and a touch of the iron, and they would do. A tremendous love affair he
had had on, Mr. Spokesly recalled. Girl in a post-card shop, it was
said. Perhaps it was the suit which had been ordered by Jack Harrowby to
make love in. Mr. Spokesly had not been attracted by that short buxom
little creature in the post-card shop; but now he felt he would like the
sensation of going round to see her, in Jack Harrowby's suit. It was the
sort of thing that chimed in with his mood of modest satisfaction. It
would not be doing Jack Harrowby any harm. That wise youth, who had gone
ahead and made the most of his opportunities, was now done with
pin-check suits and girls in post-card shops