«Тобиас Ужасный» и другие рассказы

Well, now that the match is agreed upon, naturally Horsey and the Boston characters begin discussing where it is to take place, and one of the Boston characters suggests a neutral ground, but Horsey holds out for New York, and it seems that Boston characters are always ready to visit New York, so he does not meet with any great opposition on this point.

They all agree on a date four weeks later so as to give the principals plenty of time to get ready, although Horsey and I know that this is really unnecessary as far as Nicely–Nicely is concerned, because one thing about him is he is always in condition to eat.

This Nicely–Nicely Jones is a character who is maybe five feet eight inches tall, and about five feet nine inches wide, and when he is in good shape he weighs more than two hundred and eighty–three pounds. He is a horse player by trade, and eating is really just a hobby, but he is undoubtedly a wonderful eater even when he is not hungry.

Well, as soon as Horsey and I return to New York, we go to Mindy's restaurant on Broadway and tell about the bet Horsey makes in Boston, and right away so many citizens, including Mindy himself, wish to take a piece of the proposition that it is oversubscribed by a large sum in no time.

Then Mindy remarks that he does not see Nicely–Nicely Jones for a month, and then Willie the Worrier remembers that the last time he looks for Nicely–Nicely, he leaves a forwarding address in care of somebody by the name of Slocum.

So we go to this address, which turns out to be a five–story walk–up apartment, and a card downstairs shows that Slocum lives on the top floor. It takes Horsey and me ten minutes to walk up the five flights as we are by no means accustomed to exercise of this nature, and when we finally reach a door marked Slocum, we sit down on the top step and rest a while.

Then I ring the bell at this door marked Slocum, and who appears but a tall young Judy with black hair who is without doubt beautiful, but who is so skinny we have to look twice to see her, and when I ask her if she can give me any information about a party named Nicely–Nicely Jones, she says to me like this:

"I guess you mean Quentin," she says.

So we step into an apartment, and as we do so a thin, sickly looking character gets up out of a chair by the window and in a weak voice says good evening.