Frenzied Fiction | Page 7

companion; this time more
closely. Father Knickerbocker he certainly was, yet somehow strangely
transformed from my pictured fancy of the Sleepy Hollow days. His
antique coat with its wide skirt had, it seemed, assumed a modish cut as
if in imitation of the bell-shaped spring overcoat of the young man
about town. His three-cornered hat was set at a rakish angle till it
looked almost like an up-to-date fedora. The great stick that he used to
carry had somehow changed itself into the curved walking-stick of a

Broadway lounger. The solid old shoes with their wide buckles were
gone. In their place he wore narrow slippers of patent leather of which
he seemed inordinately proud, for he had stuck his feet up
ostentatiously on the seat opposite. His eyes followed my glance
toward his shoes.
"For the fox-trot," he said. "The old ones were no good. Have a
cigarette? These are Armenian, or would you prefer a Honolulan or a
Nigerian? Now," he resumed, when we had lighted our cigarettes,
"what would you like to do first? Dance the tango? Hear some
Hawaiian music, drink cocktails, or what?"
"Why, what I should like most of all, Father Knickerbocker--"
But he interrupted me.
"There's a devilish fine woman! Look, the tall blonde one! Give me
blondes every time!" Here he smacked his lips. "By gad, sir, the women
in this town seem to get finer every century. What were you saying?"
"Why, Father Knickerbocker," I began, but he interrupted me again.
"My dear fellow," he said. "May I ask you not to call me Father
Knickerbocker?"
"But I thought you were so old," I said humbly.
"Old! Me old! Oh, I don't know. Why, dash it, there are plenty of men
as old as I am dancing the tango here every night. Pray call me, if you
don't mind, just Knickerbocker, or simply Knicky--most of the other
boys call me Knicky. Now what's it to be?"
"Most of all," I said, "I should like to go to some quiet place and have a
talk about the old days."
"Right," he said. "We're going to just the place now--nice quiet dinner,
a good quiet orchestra, Hawaiian, but quiet, and lots of women." Here
he smacked his lips again, and nudged me with his elbow. "Lots of

women, bunches of them. Do you like women?"
"Why, Mr. Knickerbocker," I said hesitatingly, "I suppose--I--"
The old man sniggered as he poked me again in the ribs.
"You bet you do, you dog!" he chuckled. "We all do. For me, I confess
it, sir, I can't sit down to dinner without plenty of women, stacks of
them, all round me."
Meantime the taxi had stopped. I was about to open the door and get
out.
"Wait, wait," said Father Knickerbocker, his hand upon my arm, as he
looked out of the window. "I'll see somebody in a minute who'll let us
out for fifty cents. None of us here ever gets in or out of anything by
ourselves. It's bad form. Ah, here he is!"
A moment later we had passed through the portals of a great restaurant,
and found ourselves surrounded with all the colour and tumult of a
New York dinner a la mode. A burst of wild music, pounded and
thrummed out on ukuleles by a group of yellow men in Hawaiian
costume, filled the room, helping to drown or perhaps only serving to
accentuate the babel of talk and the clatter of dishes that arose on every
side. Men in evening dress and women in all the colours of the rainbow,
decollete to a degree, were seated at little tables, blowing blue smoke
into the air, and drinking green and yellow drinks from glasses with
thin stems. A troupe of cabaret performers shouted and leaped on a
little stage at the side of the room, unheeded by the crowd.
"Ha ha!" said Knickerbocker, as we drew in our chairs to a table.
"Some place, eh? There's a peach! Look at her! Or do you like better
that lazy-looking brunette next to her?"
Mr. Knickerbocker was staring about the room, gazing at the women
with open effrontery, and a senile leer upon his face. I felt ashamed of
him. Yet, oddly enough, no one about us seemed in the least disturbed.

"Now, what cocktail will you have?" said my companion. "There's a
new one this week, the Fantan, fifty cents each, will you have that?
Right? Two Fantans. Now to eat--what would you like?"
"May I have a slice of cold beef and a pint of ale?"
"Beef!" said Knickerbocker contemptuously. "My dear fellow, you
can't have that. Beef is only fifty cents. Do take something reasonable.
Try Lobster Newburg, or no, here's a more expensive thing--Filet
Bourbon a la something. I don't know what