After Twenty Years

by O. Henry

　　The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. Theimpressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators werefew. The time was barely 10 o'clock at night, but chilly gusts ofwind with a taste of rain in them had well nigh depeopled thestreets.

　　Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate andartful movements, turning now and then to cast his watchful eye adownthe pacific thoroughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form andslight swagger, made a fine picture of a guardian of the peace. Thevicinity was one that kept early hours. Now and then you might seethe lights of a cigar store or of an all-night lunch counter; but themajority of the doors belonged to business places that had long sincebeen closed.

　　When about midway of a certain block the policeman suddenly slowedhis walk. In the doorway of a darkened hardware store a man leaned,with an unlighted cigar in his mouth. As the policeman walked up tohim the man spoke up quickly.

　　"It's all right, officer," he said, reassuringly. "I'm just waitingfor a friend. It's an appointment made twenty years ago. Sounds alittle funny to you, doesn't it? Well, I'll explain if you'd like tomake certain it's all straight. About that long ago there used to bea 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 lightshowed a pale, square-jawed face with keen eyes, and a little whitescar near his right eyebrow. His scarfpin was a large diamond, oddlyset.

　　"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 theworld. He and I were raised here in New York, just like twobrothers, together. I was eighteen and Jimmy was twenty. The nextmorning I was to start for the West to make my fortune. You couldn'thave dragged Jimmy out of New York; he thought it was the only placeon earth. Well, we agreed that night that we would meet here againexactly twenty years from that date and time, no matter what ourconditions might be or from what distance we might have to come. Wefigured that in twenty years each of us ought to have our destinyworked out and our fortunes made, whatever they were going to be."

　　"It sounds pretty interesting," said the policeman. "Rather a longtime between meets, though, it seems to me. Haven't you heard fromyour friend since you left?"

　　"Well, yes, for a time we corresponded," said the other. "But aftera year or two we lost track of each other. You see, the West is apretty big proposition, and I kept hustling around over it prettylively. But I know Jimmy will meet me here if he's alive, for healways was the truest, stanchest old chap in the world. He'll neverforget. I came a thousand miles to stand in this door to-night, andit's worth it if my old partner turns up."

　　The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set withsmall diamonds.

　　"Three minutes to ten," he announced. "It was exactly ten o'clockwhen 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 ofplodder, though, good fellow as he was. I've had to compete withsome of the sharpest wits going to get my pile. A man gets in agroove 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. Goingto call time on him sharp?"

　　"I should say not!" said the other. "I'll give him half an hour atleast. If Jimmy is alive on earth he'll be here by that time. Solong, 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 risenfrom its uncertain puffs into a steady blow. The few foot passengersastir in that quarter hurried dismally and silently along with coatcollars turned high and pocketed hands. And in the door of thehardware store the man who had come a thousand miles to fill anappointment, uncertain almost to absurdity, with the friend of hisyouth, smoked his cigar and waited.

　　About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a longovercoat, with collar turned up to his ears, hurried across from theopposite 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 theother's hands with his own. "It's Bob, sure as fate. I was certainI'd find you here if you were still in existence. Well, well, well!--twenty years is a long time. The old gone, Bob; I wish it hadlasted, so we could have had another dinner there. How has the Westtreated you, old man?"

　　"Bully; it has given me everything I asked it for. You've changedlots, Jimmy. I never thought you were so tall by two or threeinches."

　　"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. Comeon, Bob; we'll go around to a place I know of, and have a good longtalk about old times."

　　The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from theWest, his egotism enlarged by success, was beginning to outline thehistory of his career. The other, submerged in his overcoat,listened with interest.

　　At the corner stood a drug store, brilliant with electric lights.When they came into this glare each of them turned simultaneously togaze 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. Chicagothinks you may have dropped over our way and wires us she wants tohave a chat with you. Going quietly, are you? That's sensible.Now, before we go on to the station here's a note I was asked to handyou. You may read it here at the window. It's from PatrolmanWells."

　　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 littleby the time he had finished. The note was rather short.

　　"Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck thematch to light your cigar I saw it was the face of the man wanted inChicago. Somehow I couldn't do it myself, so I went around and gota plain clothes man to do the job.

　　JIMMY."