Tales From Gavagan's Bar Read Online Free Page B

the olden times, six hundred years ago," Ewaldt continued, "there were many of them. They were the protection against be-drunkenhood, to place in the bottom of the winecup, and most of them belonged to bishops, from which it is easy to see that the church is very sober."
     
                  Thott peered over the top of his glasses. "Interesting. It was a regular medieval idea; the word amethyst itself means antidrunkenness, you know. Did you get yours from a bishop?"
     
                  Ewaldt tucked his pocket piece away, and gave a little laugh. "No, this one is descended to me from Tycho Brahe, that was an astronomer and supposed to be a magician. But of course, it is all superstition, like his being a magician, and I do not believe it at all."
     
                  He turned to face McClintock, who had come back to the bar and leaning one elbow on it as he stared at the stuffed owl. "How is it now, my friend? Shall we have one more little bit?"
     
                  "Gotta make thish score or I'm a creep," mumbled the collapsing champion of old Eire.
     
                  Patrolman Cohan looked at him sharply. "Now, listen, Louie," he said. "You ain't making scores—"
     
                  He was interrupted by a kind of strangled sound from Ewaldt, and the others turned to look at the Captain, who seemed in the throes of a revolution. A fine perspiration had broken out on his forehead, and the network of lines had run together into a kind of mottling. "Bevare!" he uttered as they watched, and one foot came up to feel for the bar rail. He missed it, and without its support, the leg seemed to have no more stiffness than a rubber band. Captain Ewaldt took a heavy list to starboard, clutched once at the edge of the bar, missed that too, and came down hard on the floor.
     
                  As Thott and Patrolman Cohan bent to pick him up, Dippie Louie McClintock suddenly gripped the arm of the latter.
     
                  "Julius!" he wailed, and Thott saw a big tear come out on his cheek. "You should have stopped me! You know that when I drink, I just can't resist the temptation! Don't tell anyone that I did it, will you, or I'll lose my job at the fish market and won't be able to give lectures on crime any more. Here, take it, and give it back to him."
     
                  He held out the amethyst, detached from its chain, thrust it into Patrolman Cohan's hand, then in his turn swayed, missed a grab at the bar, and joined Ewaldt on the floor.
     
                  "I get a dollar," said Mr. Cohan. "The Swede is under the bar rail."              
     
    -
     
HERE, PUTZI!
                 
                  The brass-blonde sitting at the table looked up as the muscular young man entered Gavagan's. "Hello, Mr. Jeffers," she said.
     
                  The muscular young man said: "Hello, Mrs. Jonas. A brew please, Mr. Cohan." He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder from his place at the bar: "Waiting for the professor?"
     
                  "That's right. He's probably forgotten that he made a date with me and is back in the book stacks at the college library with half a dozen books spread open on the floor around him chasing references. The way that man behaves!"
     
                  Mr. Cohan combed the excess head off the top of Jeffers' beer with a celluloid stick and slid the glass across the counter. The door of the ladies' room opened behind him. From it emerged a massive female of approximately forty-five, both as to age and waistline, with a floppy hat and a gold pince-nez perched in the center of a somewhat belligerent countenance. In one hand she held a suitcase; in the other a lower, fatter bag with a tarpaulin cover. The woman sat down at the table next to Mrs. Jonas and spoke: "Some Tokay, please. I will see the