The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual
and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely 10 o'clock at night, but chilly gusts
of wind with a taste of rain in them had well high depeopled the streets.
Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate and artful movements, turning now
and then to cast his watchful eye adown the pacific throughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form
and slight swagger, made a fine picture of guardian of the peace. The vicinity was one kept early
hours. Now and then you might see the lights of a cigar store or of an all-night lunch counter; but
the majority of the doors belonged to business places that had long since been closed.
When about midway of certain block the policeman suddenly slowed his walk. In the doorway of a
darkened hardware store a man leaned, with an unlighted cigar in his mouth. as the policeman
walked up to him the man spoke up quickly.
"It's all right, officer," he said, reassuringly. "I'm just waiting for a friend. It's an appointment made
twenty years ago. Sounds a little funny to you, doesn't it? Well, I'll explain if you'd like to make
certain it's all straight. About that long ago there used to be restaurant where this store
stands-'Big Joe' Brady's restaurant."
"Until five years ago," said the policeman. "It was torn down then."
The man in the doorway struck a match and lit his cigar. The light showed a pale, square-jawed
face with keen eyes, and a little white scar near his right eyebrow. His scarfpin was a large diamond,
oddly set.
"Twenty years ago to-night," said the man, "I dined here at 'Big Joe' Brady's with Jimmy Wells,
my best chum, and the finest chap in the world. He and I were raised here in New-York, just like
two brothers, together. I was eighteen and jimmy was twenty. The next morning I was to start for
the West to make my fortune. You coundn't have dragged Jimmy out of New York; he thought it
was the only place on earth. Well, we agreed that night that we would meet here again exactly
twenty years from that date and time, no matter what our conditions might be or from what
distance we might have to come. We figured that in twenty years each of us ought to have our
destiny worked out and our fortunes made, whatever they were going to be."
"It sounds pretty interesting," said the policeman. "Rather a long time between meets, though, it
seems to me. Haven't you heard from your friend since you left?"
"Well. yes, for a time we corresponded." said the other. "But after a year or two we lost track of
each other. You see, the West is a pretty big proposition, and I kept hustling around over it pretty
lively. But I know Jimmy will meet me here if he's alive, for he always was the truest, staunchest
old chap in the world. He'll never forget. I came a thousand miles to stand in this door tonight, and
it's worth it if my old partner turns up."
The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set with small diamonds.
"Three minutes to ten, " he announced. "It was exactly ten o'clock when we parted here at the
restaurant door."
"Did pretty well out West, didn't you?" asked the policeman.
"You bet! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of plodder, though, good fellow as he
was. I've had to compete with some of the sharpnest wits going to get my pile. A man gets in a
groove in New York. It takes the West to put a razor-edge on him."
The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.
"I'll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Going to call time on him sharp?"
"I should say not!" said the other. "I'll give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy is alive on earth he'll
be here by that time. So long, officer."
"Good night, sir," said the policeman, passing on along his beat, trying doors as he went.
There was now a fine, cold drizzle falling, and the wind had risen from its uncertain puffs into a
steady blow. The few foot passengers astir in that quarter hurried dismally and silently along with
coat collars turned high and pocketed hands. And in the door of the hardware store the man who
had come a thousand miles to fill an appointment uncertain almost to absurdity, with the friend of
his youth, smoked his cigar and wiated.
About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long overcoat, with collar turned up to
his ears, hurried across from the opposite side of the street. He went directly to the waiting man.
"Is that you, Bob?" he asked, doubtfully.
"Is that you, Jimmy Wells?" cried the man in the door.
"Bless my heart!" exclaimed the new arrival, grasping both the other's hands with his own. "It's
Bob, sure as fate. I was certain I'd find you here if you were still in existence. Well, well,
well!-twenty years is a long time. The old restaurant's gone, Bob; I wish it had lasted. so we could
have had another dinner there. How has the West treated you, old man?"
"Bully; it has given me everything I asked it for. You've changed lots, Jimmy. I never thought you
were so tall by two or three inches."
"Oh, I grew a bit after I was twenty."
"Doing well in New York, Jimmy?"
"Moderately. I have a position in one of the city departments. Come on, Bob; we'll go around to a
place I know of, and have a good long talk about old times."
The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from the West, his egotism enlarged by
success, was beginning to outline the history of his career. The other, submerged in his overcoat,
listened with interest.
At the corner stood a drug store, brilliant with electric light. When they came into this glare each
of them turned simultaneously to gaze upon the other's face.
The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm.
"You're not Jimmy wells," he snapped. 'Twenty years is a long time , but not long enough to
change a man's nose from a Roman to a pug. "
"It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one," said the tall man. "You've been under arrest
for ten minutes, 'Silky' Bob. Chicago thinks you may have dropped over our way and wires us she
wants to have a chat with you. going quietly, are you? That's sensible. Now, before we go to the
station here's a note I was asked to hand to you. You may read it here at the window. It's from
Patrolman Wells."
The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed him. His hand was steady when
he began to read, but it trembled a little by the time he had finished. The note was rather short.
Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light your cigar I saw it
was the face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn't do it myself, so I went around and
got a plain clothes man to do the job.
Written by O. Henry.
Question:
1. How do you find this short story?
2. Of the two friends who do you think made much money?
3. Who apprehended the guy?
4. Where was this story taken place?