II
White, the butler, looking singularly unlike a detective--which, I
suppose, is how a detective wants to look--was taking the air on
the football field when I left the house next morning for a
before-breakfast stroll. The sight of him filled me with a desire
for first-hand information on the subject of the man Mr MacGinnis
supposed me to be and also of Mr MacGinnis himself. I wanted to be
assured that my friend Buck, despite appearances, was a placid
person whose bark was worse than his bite.
White's manner, at our first conversational exchanges, was
entirely that of the butler. From what I came to know of him
later, I think he took an artistic pride in throwing himself into
whatever role he had to assume.
At the mention of Smooth Sam Fisher, however, his manner peeled
off him like a skin, and he began to talk as himself, a racy and
vigorous self vastly different from the episcopal person he
thought it necessary to be when on duty.
'White,' I said, 'do you know anything of Smooth Sam Fisher?'
He stared at me. I suppose the question, led up to by no previous
remark, was unusual.
'I met a gentleman of the name of Buck MacGinnis--he was our
visitor that night, by the way--and he was full of Sam. Do you
know him?'
'Buck?'
'Either of them.'
'Well, I've never seen Buck, but I know all about him. There's
pepper to Buck.'
'So I should imagine. And Sam?'
'You may take it from me that there's more pepper to Sam's little
finger than there is to Buck's whole body. Sam could make Buck
look like the last run of shad, if it came to a showdown. Buck's
just a common roughneck. Sam's an educated man. He's got brains.'
'So I gathered. Well, I'm glad to hear you speak so well of him,
because that's who I'm supposed to be.'
'How's that?'
'Buck MacGinnis insists that I am Smooth Sam Fisher. Nothing I can
say will shift him.'
White stared. He had very bright humorous brown eyes. Then he
began to laugh.
'Well, what do you know about that?' he exclaimed. 'Wouldn't that
jar you!'
'It would. I may say it did. He called me a hog for wanting to
keep the Little Nugget to myself, and left threatening to "fix
me". What would you say the verb "to fix" signified in Mr
MacGinnis's vocabulary?'
White was still chuckling quietly to himself.
'He's a wonder!' he observed. 'Can you beat it? Taking you for
Smooth Sam!'
'He said he had never seen Smooth Sam. Have you?'
'Lord, yes.'
'Does he look like me?'
'Not a bit.'
'Do you think he's over here in England?'
'Sam? I know he is.'
'Then Buck MacGinnis was right?'
'Dead right, as far as Sam being on the trail goes. Sam's after
the Nugget to get him this time. He's tried often enough before,
but we've been too smart for him. This time he allows he's going
to bring it off.'
'Then why haven't we seen anything of him? Buck MacGinnis seems to
be monopolizing the kidnapping industry in these parts.'
'Oh, Sam'll show up when he feels good and ready. You can take it
from me that Sam knows what he is doing. Sam's a special pet of
mine. I don't give a flip for Buck MacGinnis.'
'I wish I had your cheery disposition! To me Buck MacGinnis seems
a pretty important citizen. I wonder what he meant by "fix"?'
White, however, declined to leave the subject of Buck's more
gifted rival.
'Sam's a college man, you know. That gives him a pull. He has
brains, and can use them.'
'That was one of the points on which Buck MacGinnis reproached me.
He said it was not fair to use my superior education.'
He laughed.
'Buck's got no sense. That's why you find him carrying on like a
porch-climber. It's his only notion of how to behave when he wants
to do a job. And that's why there's only one man to keep your eye
on in this thing of the Little Nugget, and that's Sam. I wish you
could get to know Sam. You'd like him.'
'You seem to look on him as a personal friend. I certainly don't
like Buck.'
'Oh, Buck!' said White scornfully.
We turned towards the house as the sound of the bell came to us
across the field.
'Then you think we may count on Sam's arrival, sooner or later, as
a certainty?' I said.
'Surest thing you know.'
'You will have a busy time.'
'All in the day's work.'
'I suppose I ought to look at it in that way. But I do wish I knew
exactly what Buck meant by "fix".'
White at last condescended to give his mind to the trivial point.
'I guess he'll try to put one over on you with a sand-bag,' he
said carelessly. He seemed to face the prospect with calm.
'A sand-bag, eh?' I said. 'It sounds exciting.'
'And feels it. I know. I've had some.'
I parted from him at the door. As a comforter he had failed to
qualify. He had not eased my mind to the slightest extent.
