Tales From Gavagan's Bar by L. Sprague de Camp, Fletcher Pratt

drink.]
     
                  That could be it, and thanks, Mr. Murdoch. I never heard of it before, but I ast me brother Julius that's on the force about it, and he said it didn't look good, but there's no law against it as long as they don't tell fortunes. It has something to do with books. There's some of them old books that are worth all kinds of money.
     
                  That's what he went away for, he said, since the last time I seen him, to get some book, he said, a book by somebody named Nebulous or something like that.
     
                  ["Zebulon," said Murdoch.]
     
                  You should of heard him talk about it. He says it's hundreds of years he's been after the book, which is always the way he talks, so that when you can understand what he's saying, you can't believe a word of it. It seems he had the book once; he says he found it on an island in the pink Arabian Sea, just as though I didn't know seawater ain't pink.
     
                  Then he says the holy Saint Peter stole the book off him; and besides being a lot of malarkey, he shouldn't be putting his tongue to the names of the holy saints that way; and I told him so. But now he's going to get it back, he says, because there's going to be a convention of fellies in the same line of business over in Brooklyn, I think he said. ["Brocken," corrected Murdoch.]
     
                  Okay, in Brocken. I remember on account of the date being the first of May, and I thought maybe it was some gang of Commies or something like that, but me brother Julius, that's on the force, says no.
     
                  Still and all, it's good for business having him in here once in a while, with the tricks he plays, moving his fingers all the time like he's playing a piano that ain't there. Did I ever show you the bottle of private stock he drinks out of, Mr. Gross?
     
                  [Cohan ducked down to produce it. "Vin sable," read Witherwax from the label. "I know what that means; that's French, and it means 'sand wine.' Have something yourself on this round, will you Mr. Co-han?"]
     
                  Don't mind if I do; the first today but not the last, and thank you. Well, I guess they must use black sand with it or something, because you can see for yourself how dark it is, like it was mixed with ink. Gavagan gets it for him from Costello's the importer. No, I wouldn't be selling you a drink of it, Mr. Gross; it would be as much as my job was worth. This here Abaris is that particular; and he is a man I wouldn't want to have take a dislike to me, because of the funny things he can do.
     
                  [A sound vaguely imitating a rusty hinge emanated from Murdoch.]
     
                  Why, you wouldn't believe it yourself sometimes, and I wouldn't either, only I seen them with my own two eyes. You know Mr. Jeffers, don't you, Mr. Witherwax? Well, it's a different man he is today than he was, and all because of this Abaris. A fine young man and a fine young felly he always was, except that in the old days, before you began coming in here, Mr. Witherwax, he maybe had too much money and spent too much of it on girls. Take them alone, either one; the money without the women, or a good girl without the money that can be a help to a young felly, and he's fixed for life. But put them together; and often as not, the young felly goes on the booze.
     
                  No, you needn't laugh, Mr. Gross. I'm not the man to say anything against good liquor, but I wouldn't want anyone to walk out this door that couldn't go on home on his own two feet. Good liquor helps a man to see that after all it's a small thing that disturbs him; but when you take liquor without the trouble, then the liquor becomes the trouble itself, and that's bad.
     
                  This was the way it used to be with Mr. Jeffers. He got to taking the