Produced by Peter O'Connell
EDWARD DYSON1922
HIS Christian name was Nicholas but his familiars called him Nickie theKid. The title did not imply that Nicholas possessed the artless gaiety,the nimbleness, or any of the simple virtues of the young of the commongoat. Kid was short for "kidder," a term that as gone out recently infavour of "smoodger," and which implies a quality of suave andingratiating cunning backed by ulterior motives.
The familiars of Mr. Nicholas Crips were a limited circle, and all"beats," that is to say, gentlemen sitting on the rail dividing honesttoil from open crime. They were not workers, neither were they thieves,excepting in very special circumstances, when the opportunity madehonesty almost an impertinence. The sobriquet coming from such a sourceacquires peculiar significance. The god-fathers of Nickie the Kid wereall experts, and obtained bed and board mainly by exercising the art ofdissimulation. To stand out conspicuously as a specialist in such companyone needed to possess very bright and peculiar qualities.
Mr. Nicholas Crips was blonde, bony man perhaps five feet nine in height,but looking taller because of the spareness of his limbs. This sparenesswas not cultivated, as Nickie the Kid was partial to creature comforts,but was of great assistance to him in a profession in which it was oftennecessary to profess chronic sickness and touching physical decrepitude.Mr Crips despised whiskers, but, as shaving was an extravagantindulgence, his slightly cadaverous countenance was often littered with acrisp, pale stubble, not unlike dry grass.
To-day Nickie wore a suit of black cloth. It had once been a veryimposing suit, and had adorned a great person, but having fallen on evildays, was dusty and rusty, while the knees of Mr. Crips poked familiarlythrough a long slit in each leg of the stained trousers. The frock coatwent badly with the damaged tan boots and the moth-eaten rag cap Nicholaswas wearing.
Mr. Crips was making back-door call, and telling housewives what thedoctors at the hospital had said about his peculiar ailment which, itappears, was an interesting heart weakness.
"Above all, I must be careful never to over-exert myself, madam—thoseare the doctor's orders," said Nickie, in his sad, calm way. "Thesmallest excitement, the slightest strain, and my life goes out likethat." Nickie puffed an imaginary candle with dramatic significance.
This was the preliminary to a mild appeal for creature and medicalcomforts, and it had two objects—to open the soul to compassion, and barall considerations of manual labour.
Our hero's manner with women was a gentle manly deference; his beggingshowed no trace of servility, but he was always polite. He acceptedfailure with good grace, and did not resent scorn, abuse, or evenviolence from intended victims. He was rarely combative. Fighting was nothis special gift; he met misfortune with patient passivity Resistance hefound a mistake. But for all this a certain sense of superiority was,never wanting in Nickie the Kid; the shabbiest clothes, a deplorable hat,fragmentary boots, shirtlessness, the most distressing situations allfailed to wholly eliminate a touch of impudent dignity, a trace of rakishself-satisfaction which as a rule escaped the attention of his clients;but, here and there, a student of human nature found it delightfullywhimsical. Sometimes it appeared that this spice of egotism sprang from ablackguardly sense of humour that found joy in the