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diff --git a/17333-h/17333-h.htm b/17333-h/17333-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..82682c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/17333-h/17333-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13496 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Wilt Thou Torchy, by Sewell Ford +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; background: White; margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 10%; font-size: medium; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; margin-left: 10%; font-size: small } + +P.letter {font-size: small } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilt Thou Torchy, by Sewell Ford + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Wilt Thou Torchy + +Author: Sewell Ford + +Release Date: December 17, 2005 [EBook #17333] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILT THOU TORCHY *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT=""But the impudence of you, to do it right here!" she goes on." BORDER="2" WIDTH="516" HEIGHT="363"> +<H4> +[Frontispiece: "But the impudence of you, to do it right here!" she goes on.<BR> +"No one but you, Torchy, would have thought of that."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +WILT THOU TORCHY +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +SEWELL FORD +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF +<BR><BR> +TORCHY, TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC, ETC. +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS BY +<BR><BR> +FRANK SNAPP AND ARTHUR WILLIAM BROWN +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +NEW YORK +<BR><BR> +GROSSET & DUNLAP +<BR><BR> +PUBLISHERS +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1915, 1916, 1917, BY +<BR> +SEWELL FORD +<BR><BR> +COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY +<BR> +EDWARD J. CLODE +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H3> + +<BR> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="80%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">ON THE WAY WITH CYBIL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">TOWING CECIL TO A SMEAR</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">TORCHY HANDS OUT A SPILL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">HOW HAM PASSED THE BUCK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">WITH ELMER LEFT IN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">A BALANCE FOR THE BOSS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">TORCHY FOLLOWS A HUNCH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">BREAKING ODD WITH MYRA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">REPORTING BLANK ON RUPERT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">WHEN AUNTIE CRASHES IN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">A JOLT FROM OLD HICKORY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">TORCHY HITS THE HIGH SEAS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">WHEN THE NAVY HORNED IN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">AUNTIE TAKES A NIGHT OFF</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">PASSING THE JOKE BUCK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">TORCHY TAKES A RUNNING JUMP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">A LITTLE SPEED ON THE HOME STRETCH</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +"But the impudence of you, to do it right here!" she goes on. "No one +but you, Torchy, would have thought of that." . . . . . . <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-038"> +"I don't think I ever saw Auntie come so near beamin' before. She +seems right at home, fieldin' that line of chat. And Vee, too, is more +or less under the spell. +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-080"> +"For a second it looked like Gladys was goin' to freeze with horror; +but she just gives Valentina the once-over and indulges in a panicky +little giggle." +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-298"> +"Then she grips me around the neck and snuggles her head down on my +necktie—say, then I knew." +</A> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +WILT THOU TORCHY +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ON THE WAY WITH CECIL +</H3> + +<P> +It was a case of declarin' time out on the house. Uh-huh—a whole +afternoon. What's the use bein' a private sec. in good standin' unless +you can put one over on the time-clock now and then? Besides, I had a +social date; and, now Mr. Robert is back on the job so steady and is +gettin' so domestic in his habits, somebody's got to represent the +Corrugated Trust at these function things. +</P> + +<P> +The event was the openin' of the Pill Box; you know, one of these dinky +little theaters where they do the capsule drama at two dollars a seat. +Not that I've been givin' my theatrical taste the highbrow treatment. +I'm still strong for the smokeless war play where the coisèd spy gets +his'n good and hard. +</P> + +<P> +But I understand this one-act stuff is the thing to see just now, and +I'd picked up a hunch that Vee and Auntie had planned to be in on this +openin' until Auntie's sciatica developed so bad that they had to call +it off. So it's me makin' the timely play with a couple of seats in E +center and almost gettin' hugged for it. Even Auntie shoots me an +approvin' glance as she hands down a favorable decision. +</P> + +<P> +So we sits through five acts of piffle that was mostly talky junk to +me. And, at that, I wa'n't sufferin' exactly; for when them actorines +got too weird, all I had to do was swing a bit in my seat and I had a +side view of a spiffy little white fur boa, with a pink ear-tip showin' +under a ripple of corn-colored hair, and a—well, I had something worth +watching that's all. +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't that last thing stupid?" says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't bother me any," says I. "Maybe I wa'n't followin' it real +close." +</P> + +<P> +"The idea!" says, she. "Why come to the theater, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lean closer and I'll whisper," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Silly!" says she. "Here! Have a chocolate." +</P> + +<P> +"Toss," says I, openin' my mouth. +</P> + +<P> +Vee snickers. "Suppose I missed and hit the fat man beyond?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a sportin' chance he takes," says I. "Shoot." +</P> + +<P> +I had to bump Fatty a bit makin' the catch; but when he sees what the +game is, he comes back with the friendly grin. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" says Vee, tintin' up. "Now behave." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry," says I, "but I had to field my position, didn't I? Once more, +now." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly not," says Vee. "Besides, there goes the curtain." +</P> + +<P> +And if it hadn't been for interruptions like that we might have had a +perfectly good time. We generally do when we're let alone. To sort of +string the fun out I suggests goin' somewhere for tea. And it was +while we're swappin' josh over the toasted crumpets and marmalade that +we discovers a familiar-lookin' couple on the dancin' surface. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, there's Doris!" says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"And the happy hubby!" I adds. "Hey, Westy! Come nourish yourself." +</P> + +<P> +Maybe you remember that pair? Sappy Westlake, anyway. He's the noble, +fair-haired youth that for a long time Auntie had all picked out as the +chosen one for Vee, and he hung around constant until one lucky day Vee +had this Doris Ull come for a visit. +</P> + +<P> +Kind of a pouty, peevish queen, Doris was, you know. Spoiled at home, +and the job finished at one of these flossy girls' boardin'-schools +where they get a full course in court etiquette and learn to call the +hired girl Smith quite haughty. +</P> + +<P> +But she looked good to Westy, and, what with the help Vee and I gave +'em, they made a match of it. Months ago that must 'a' been, nearly a +year. So I signals a fray-juggler to pull up more chairs, and we has +quite a reunion. +</P> + +<P> +Seems they'd been on a long honeymoon trip: done the whole Pacific +coast, stopped off a while at Banff, and worked hack home through +Quebec and the White Mountains. Think of all the carfares and tips to +bell-hops that means! He don't have to worry, though. Income is +Westy's middle name. All he knows about it is that there's a trust +company downtown somewheres that handles the estate and wishes on him +quarterly a lot more'n he knows how to spend. Beastly bore! +</P> + +<P> +"What a wonderful time you two must have had!" says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +Doris shrugs her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Sightseeing always gives me a headache," says she. "And in the +Canadian Rockies we nearly froze. I was glad to see New York again. +But one tires of hotel life. Thank goodness, our house is ready at +last. We moved in a week ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says Vee. "Then you're housekeeping?" +</P> + +<P> +Doris nods. "It's quite thrilling," says she. "At ten-thirty every +morning I have the butler bring me Cook's list. Then I 'phone for the +things myself. That is, I've just begun. Let me see, didn't I put in +to-day's order in my—yes, here it is." And she fishes a piece of +paper out of a platinum mesh bag. "Think of our needing all that—just +Harold and me," she goes on. +</P> + +<P> +"I should say so," says Vee, startin' to read over the items. "'Sugar, +two pounds; tea, two pounds—'" +</P> + +<P> +"Cook leaves the amounts to me," explains Doris; "so I just order two +pounds of everything." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says Vee, readin' on. "'Butter, two pounds; eggs, two—' Do +they sell eggs that way, Doris?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't they?" asks Doris. "I'm sure I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +"'Coffee, two pounds,'" continues Vee. "'Yeast cakes, two pounds—' +Why, wouldn't that be a lot of yeast cakes? They're such little +things!" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," says Doris. "But then, I sha'n't have to bother ordering +any more for a month, you see. Now, take the next item. 'Champagne +wafers, ten pounds.' I'm fond of those. But that is the only time I +broke my rule. See—'flour, two pounds; roast beef, two pounds,' and +so on. Oh, I mean to be quite systematic in my housekeeping!" +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't she a wonder?" asks Westy, gazin' at her proud and mushy. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, though, Vee," goes on Doris enthusiastic, "you must come home +with us for dinner to-night. Do!" +</P> + +<P> +At which Westy nudges her and whispers something behind his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," adds Doris. "You too, Torchy." +</P> + +<P> +Vee had to 'phone Auntie and get Doris to back her up before the +special dispensation was granted; but at six-thirty the four of us +starts uptown for this brownstone bird-cage of happiness that Westy has +taken a five-year lease of. +</P> + +<P> +"Just think!" says Vee, as we unloads from the taxi. "You with a house +of your own, and managing servants, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" remarks Doris, as she pushes the button. "I do hope you won't +mind Cyril." +</P> + +<P> +"Mind who?" says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"He—he's our butler," explains Westy. "I suppose he's a very good +butler, too—the man at the employment agency said he was; but—er—" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure he is," puts in Doris, "even if he does look a little odd. +Then there is his name—Cyril Snee. Of course, Cyril doesn't sound +just right for a butler, does it? But Snee is so—so—" +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it?" says Vee. "I should call him Cyril." +</P> + +<P> +"We started in that way," says Doris, "but he asked us not to; said he +preferred to be called Snee. It was unusual, and besides he had +private reasons. So between ourselves we speak of him as Cyril, and to +his face— Well, I suppose we shall get used to saying Snee, though— +Why, where can he be? I've rung twice and— Oh, here he comes!" +</P> + +<P> +And, believe me, when Doris described him as lookin' a little odd she's +said sumpun. Cyril was all of that. As far as figures goes he's big +and impressive enough, with sort of a dignified bulge around the +equator. But that face of his, with the white showin' through the +pink, and the pink showin' through the white in the most unexpected +places! Like a scraped radish. No, that don't give you the idea of +his color scheme exactly. Say a half parboiled baby. For the pink +spots on his chin and forehead was baby pink, and the white of his +cheeks and ears was a clear, waxy white, like he'd been made up by an +artist. Then, the thin gray hair, cropped so close the pink scalp +glimmered through; and the wide mouth with the quirky corners; and the +greenish pop-eyes with the heavy bags underneath—well, that was a map +to remember. +</P> + +<P> +And the worst of it was, I couldn't. Sure, I'd met it. No doubt about +that. But I follows the bunch into the house like I was in a trance, +starin' at Cyril over Westy's shoulder and askin' myself urgent, "Where +have I seen that face before?" No, I couldn't place him. And you know +how a thing like that will bother you. It got me in the appetite. +</P> + +<P> +Maybe it was just as well, too, for I'd got half way through the soup +before I notices anything the matter with it. My guess was that it +tasted scorchy. I glances around at Vee, and finds she's just makin' a +bluff at eatin' hers. Doris and Westy ain't even doin' that, and when +I drops my spoon Doris signals to take it away. Which Cyril does, +movin' as solemn and dignified as if he was usherin' at a funeral. +Then there's a stage wait for three or four minutes before the fish is +brought in, Cyril paddin' around ponderous with the plates. Doris +beckons him up and demands in a whisper: +</P> + +<P> +"Where is Helma?" +</P> + +<P> +"Helma, ma'am," says he, "is taking the evening out." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" begins Doris, then stops and bites her lip. +</P> + +<P> +The fish could have stood some of the surplus cookin' that the soup +got. It wa'n't exactly eatable fish, and the potato marbles that come +with it should have been numbered; then they'd be useful in Kelley +pool. Yes, they was a bit hard. Doris gets red under the eyes and +waves out the fish. +</P> + +<P> +She stands it, though, until that two-pound roast is put before Westy. +Not such a whale of a roast, it ain't. It's a one-rib affair, like an +overgrown chop, and it reposes lonesome in the middle of a big silver +platter. It's done, all right. Couldn't have been more so if it had +been cooked in a blast-furnace. Even the bone was charred through. +</P> + +<P> +Westy he gazes at it in his mild, helpless way, and pokes it doubtful +with the carvin'-fork. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Cyr—er—Snee," says he, "what's this?" +</P> + +<P> +"The roast, sir," says the butler. +</P> + +<P> +"The deuce it is!" says Westy. "Do—do I use a saw or dynamite?" And +he stares across at Doris inquirin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Snee," says Doris, her upper lip trembling "you—you may take it away." +</P> + +<P> +"Back to the kitchen, ma'am?" asks Cyril. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-es," says Doris. "Certainly." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, ma'am," says Cyril, sort of tragic and mysterious. +</P> + +<P> +He hadn't more'n got through the swing-door before Doris slumps in her +chair, puts her face into her hands, and begins lettin' out the sobs +reckless. Course, Westy jumps to the rescue and starts pattin' her on +the back and offerin' soothin' words. So does Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there!" says Vee. "We don't mind a bit. Such things are bound +to happen." +</P> + +<P> +"But I—I don't know what to do," sobs Doris. "It's—it's been getting +worse every day. They began all right—the servants, I mean. But +yesterday Marie was impudent, and to-night Helma has gone out when she +shouldn't, and now Cook has spoiled everything, and—" +</P> + +<P> +We ain't favored with the rest of the sad tale, for just then there's a +quick scuff of feet, and Cyril comes skatin' through the pantry door +and does a frantic dive behind the sideboard. +</P> + +<P> +Doris straightens up, brushes her eyes clear, and makes a brave stab at +bein' dignified. +</P> + +<P> +"Snee," says she, real reprovin'. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I beg pardon, ma'am," says Cyril, edgin' out and revealin' a broad +black smooch on his shirt-front as well as a few other un-butlery signs. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, whatever has happened to yon?" demands Doris. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not complaining, ma'am," says Cyril; "but Cook, you see, she—she +didn't like it because of my bringing back the roast. And I'm not very +good at dodging, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says Doris, shudderin'. +</P> + +<P> +"It struck me here, ma'am," says Cyril, indicatin' the exact spot. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes, I see," says Doris. "I—I'm sorry, Snee." +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all, ma'am," objects Cyril. "My fault entirely. I should have +jumped quicker. And it might have been the pudding. That wouldn't +have hit so hard, but it would have splashed more. You see, ma'am, I—" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind, Snee," cuts in Doris, tryin' to stop him. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't, ma'am, I assure you," says Cyril, pluckin' a spray of parsley +off his collar. "I was only going to remark what a wonderful true eye +Cook has, ma'am; and her in liquor, at that." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, oh!" squeals Doris panicky. +</P> + +<P> +"It began when I brought her the brandy for the pudding sauce, ma'am," +goes on Cyril, real chatty. "She'd had only one glass when she begins +chucking me under the chin and calling me Dearie. Not that I ever gave +her any cause, ma'am, to—" +</P> + +<P> +"Please!" wails Doris. "Harold! Stop him, can't you?" +</P> + +<P> +And say, can you see Sappy Westlake stoppin' anything? Specially such +a runnin' stream as this here now Cyril. But he comes to life for one +faint effort. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, you know," he starts in, "perhaps you'd best say no more about +it, Snee." +</P> + +<P> +"As you like, sir," says Cyril. "Only, I don't wish my feelings +considered. Not in the least. If you care to send back the salad I +will gladly—" +</P> + +<P> +Westy glances appealin' towards me. +</P> + +<P> +"Torchy," says he, "couldn't you—" +</P> + +<P> +Couldn't I, though! Say, I'd just been yearnin' to crash into this +affair for the last five minutes. I'd remembered Cyril. At least, I +thought I had. And I proceeds to rap for order with a table-knife. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me, Mr. Snee," says I, "but you ain't been called on for a +monologue. You can print the whole story of how kitchen neutrality was +violated, issue a yellow book, if you like; but just for the minute try +to forget that assault with the roast and see if you can remember ever +havin' met me before. Can you?" +</P> + +<P> +Don't seem to faze Cyril a bit. He takes a good look at me and then +shakes his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry, sir," says he, "but I'm afraid I'm stupid about such +things. I can sometimes recall names very readily, but faces—" +</P> + +<P> +"How long since you quit jugglin' pies and sandwiches at the +quick-lunch joint?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Three months, sir," says he prompt. +</P> + +<P> +"Tied the can to you, did they?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"I was discharged, sir," says Cyril. "The proprietor objected to my +talking so much to customers. I suppose he was quite right. One of my +many failings, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you," says I. "So you took up buttling, eh? Wa'n't that +some nervy jump?" +</P> + +<P> +"I considered it a helpful step in my career," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Your which?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I should put it," says he, "that the work seemed to offer the +discipline which would make me most useful to our noble order." +</P> + +<P> +And as he says the last two words he puts his palms at right angles to +his ears, thumbs in, and bows three times. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I, gawpin'. +</P> + +<P> +"I refer," says Cyril, "to the Brotherhood of the Sacred Owls, which is +also named the Sublime Order of Humility and Wisdom." +</P> + +<P> +And once more he does the ear wigwag. Believe me, he had us all +gaspin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Vurra good, Eddie!" says I. "Sacred Owls, eh? What is that—one of +these insurance schemes?" +</P> + +<P> +"There are both mortuary and sick benefits appertaining to membership," +says Cyril, "but our chief aim and purpose is to acquire humility and +wisdom. It so happens that I have been named as candidate for Grand +Organizer of the East, and at our next solemn conclave, to be held—" +</P> + +<P> +"I get you," says I. "I can see where you might find some practice in +bein' humble by buttlin', but how about gettin' wise?" +</P> + +<P> +"With humility comes wisdom, as our public ritual has it," says Cyril. +"In the text-book which I studied—'The Perfect Butler'—there was very +little about being humble, however. But my cousin, who conducts an +employment agency, assured me that could only be acquired by practice. +So he secured me several positions. He was wholly correct. I have +been discharged on an average of once a week for the last two months, +and on each occasion I have discovered newer and deeper depths of +humility." +</P> + +<P> +I draws a long breath and gazes admiring at Cyril. Then I turns to the +Westlakes. +</P> + +<P> +"Westy," says I, "do you want to accommodate Mr. Snee with a fresh +chance of perfectin' himself for the Sublime Order?" +</P> + +<P> +He nods. So does Doris. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a unanimous vote, Cyril," says I. "You're fired. Not for +failin' to duck the roast, understand, but because you're too gabby." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, sir," says he, actin' a little disappointed. "I am to +leave at once, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," says I. "Stop long enough in the kitchen to tell Cook she gets +the chuck, too. After that, if you ain't qualified as Grand Imperial +Organizer of the whole United States, then the Sacred Owls don't know +their business. By-by, Cyril. We're backin' you to win, remember." +</P> + +<P> +And as I pushes him through the pantry door I locks it behind him. +Followin' which, Doris uses the powder-puff under her eyes a little and +we adjourns to the Plutoria palm-room, where we had a perfectly good +dinner, all the humility Westy could buy with a two-dollar tip, and no +folksy chatter on the side. +</P> + +<P> +Next day the Westlakes calls up another agency, and by night they had +an entire new line of help on the job. +</P> + +<P> +What do you guess, though? Here yesterday afternoon I leaves the +office on the jump and chases up to the apartment house where Vee and +Auntie are settled for the winter. My idea was that I might catch Vee +comin' home from a shoppin' orgie, or the matinée, or something, and +get a few minutes' conversation in the lobby. +</P> + +<P> +The elevator-boy says she's out, too, so it looks like I was a winner. +I waits half an hour and she don't show up, and I'm just about to take +a chance on ringin' up Auntie for information, when in she comes, +chirky and smilin', with rose leaves sprinkled on both cheeks and her +eyes sparklin'. Also she has a bundle of books under one arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Why the literature?" says I. "Goin' to read Auntie to sleep?" +</P> + +<P> +"There!" says she, poutin' cute. "I wasn't going to let anyone know. +I've started in at college." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha-a-at!" says I. "You ain't never goin' to be a lady doctor or +anything like that, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am taking a course at Columbia," says Vee, "in domestic science. +Doris is doing it, too. And such fun! To-day we learned how to make a +bed—actually made it up, too. To-morrow I am going to boil potatoes." +</P> + +<P> +"Hel-lup!" says I. "You are? Say, how long does this last?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a two-year course," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Stick to it," says I. "That'll give me time to take lessons from +Westy on how to get an income wished onto me." +</P> + +<P> +As it stands, though, Vee's got me distanced. Please, ain't somebody +got a plute aunt to spare? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TOWING CECIL TO A SMEAR +</H3> + + +<P> +Just think! If it had turned out a little different I might have been +called to stand on a platform in front of City Hall while the Mayor +wished a Victoria Cross or something like that on me. +</P> + +<P> +No, I ain't been nearer the front than Third Avenue, but at that I've +come mighty near gettin' on the firin' line, and the only reason I missed +out on pullin' a hero stunt was that Maggie wa'n't runnin' true to form. +</P> + +<P> +It was like this. Here the other mornin', as I'm sittin' placid at my +desk dictatin' routine correspondence into a wax cylinder that's +warranted not to yank gum or smell of frangipani—sittin' there dignified +and a bit haughty, like a highborn private sec. ought to, you know—who +should come paddin' up to my elbow but the main wheeze, Old Hickory +Ellins. +</P> + +<P> +"Son," says he, "can any of that wait?" +</P> + +<P> +"Guess it wouldn't spoil, sir," says I, switchin' off the duflicker. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" says he. "I think I can employ your peculiar talents to better +advantage for the next few hours. I trust that you are prepared to face +the British War Office?" +</P> + +<P> +Suspectin' that he's about to indulge in his semi-annual josh, I only +grins expectant. +</P> + +<P> +"We have with us this morning," he goes on, "one Lieutenant Cecil +Fothergill, just arrived from London. Perhaps you saw him as he was +shown in half an hour or so ago?" +</P> + +<P> +"The solemn-lookup gink with the long face, one wanderin' eye, and the +square-set shoulders?" says I. "Him in the light tan ridin'-breeches and +the black cutaway?" +</P> + +<P> +"Precisely," says Mr. Ellins. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says I. "Army officer? I had him listed as a rail-bird from the +Horse Show." +</P> + +<P> +"He presents credentials signed by General Kitchener," says Old Hickory. +"He's looking up munition contracts. Not the financial end. Nor is he +an artillery expert. Just exactly what he is here for I've failed to +discover, and I am too busy to bother with him." +</P> + +<P> +"I get you," says I. "You want him shunted." +</P> + +<P> +Old Hickory nods. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite delicately, however," he goes on. +</P> + +<P> +"The Lieutenant seems to have something on his mind—something heavy. I +infer that he wishes to do a little inspecting." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says I. +</P> + +<P> +You see, along late in the summer, one of our Wall Street men had copped +out a whalin' big shell-case contract for us, gayly ignorin' the fact +that this was clean out of our line. +</P> + +<P> +How Old Hickory did roast him for it at the time! But when he come to +figure out the profits, Mr. Ellins don't do a thing but rustle around, +lease all the stray factories in the market, from a canned gas plant in +Bayonne to a radiator foundry in Yonkers, fit 'em up with the proper +machinery, and set 'em to turnin' out battle pills by the trainload. +</P> + +<P> +"I gather," says Mr. Ellins, "that the Lieutenant suspects we are not +taking elaborate precautions to safeguard our munition plants from—well, +Heaven knows what. So if you could show him around and ease his mind any +it would be helpful. At least, it would be a relief to me just now. +Come in and meet him." +</P> + +<P> +My idea was to chirk him up at the start. +</P> + +<P> +"Howdy, Lieutenant," says I, extendin' the cordial palm. +</P> + +<P> +But both the Lieutenant's eyes must have been wandering for he don't seem +to notice my friendly play. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha-ar-r-r yuh," he rumbles from somewhere below his collar-button, and +with great effort he manages to focus on me with his good lamp. For a +single-barreled look-over, it's a keen one, too—like bein' stabbed with +a cheese-tester. But it's soon over, and the next minute he's listenin' +thoughtful while Old Hickory is explainin' how I'm the one who can tow +him around the munition shops. +</P> + +<P> +"Torchy," Mr. Ellins winds up with, shootin' me a meanin' look from under +his bushy eyebrows, "I want you to show the Lieutenant our main works." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I, gawpin'. For he knew very well there wasn't any such thing. +</P> + +<P> +His left eyelid does a slow flutter. +</P> + +<P> +"The main works, you understand," he repeats. "And see that Lieutenant +Fothergill is well taken care of. You will find the limousine waiting." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," says I. "I'm right behind you." +</P> + +<P> +Course, if Mr. Robert had been there instead of off honeymoonin', this +would have been his job. He'd have towed Cecil to his club, fed him +Martinis and vintage stuff until he couldn't have told a 32-inch shell +from an ashcan; handed him a smooth spiel about capacity, strain tests, +shipping facilities, and so on, and dumped him at his hotel entirely +satisfied that all was well, without having been off Fifth Avenue. +</P> + +<P> +The best I can do, though, is to steer him into a flossy Broadway grill, +shove him the wine-card with the menu, and tell him to go the limit. +</P> + +<P> +He orders a pot of tea and a combination chop. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, say, have another guess," says I. "What's the matter with that +squab caserole and something in a silver ice-bucket?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, no," says he. "I—er—my nerves, you know." +</P> + +<P> +I couldn't deny that he looked it, either. Such a high-strung, jumpy +party he is, always glancin' around suspicious. And that wanderin' store +eye of his, scoutin' about on its own hook independent of the other, sort +of adds to the general sleuthy effect. Kind of weird, too. +</P> + +<P> +But I tries to forget that and get down to business. +</P> + +<P> +"Surprisin' ain't it," says I, "how many of them shells can be turned out +by—" +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-s-sh!" says he, glancin' cautious at the omnibus-boy comin' to set +up our table. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I, after we've been supplied with rolls and sweet butter and +ice water. "Why the panic?" +</P> + +<P> +"Spies!" he whispers husky. +</P> + +<P> +"What, him?" says I, starin' after the innocent-lookin' party in the +white apron. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no telling," says Cecil. "One can't be too careful. And it +will be best, I think, for you to address me simply as Mr. Fothergill. +As for the—er—goods you are producing, you might speak of them +as—er—hams, you know." +</P> + +<P> +I expect I gawped at him some foolish. Think of springin' all that +mystery dope right on Broadway! And, as I'm none too anxious to talk +about shells anyway, we don't have such a chatty luncheon. I'm just as +satisfied. I wanted time to think what I should exhibit as the main +works. +</P> + +<P> +That Bayonne plant wa'n't much to look at, just a few sheds and a spur +track. I hadn't been to the Yonkers foundry, but I had an idea it wa'n't +much more impressive. Course, there was the joint on East 153d Street. +I knew that well enough, for I'd helped negotiate the lease. +</P> + +<P> +It had been run by a firm that was buildin' some new kind of marine +motors, but had gone broke. Used to be a stove works, I believe. +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, it's only a two-story cement-block affair, jammed in between some +car-barns on one side and a brewery on the other. Hot proposition to +trot out as the big end of a six-million-dollar contract! But it was the +best I had to offer, and after the Lieutenant had finished his Oolong and +lighted a cigarette I loads him into the limousine again and we shoots +uptown. +</P> + +<P> +"Here we are," says I, as we turns into a cross street just before it +ends in the East River. "The main works," and I waves my band around +casual. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, yes," says he, gettin' his eye on the tall brick stack of the +brewery and then lettin' his gaze roam across to the car-barns. +</P> + +<P> +"Temporary quarters," says I. "Kind of miscellaneous, ain't they? +Here's the main entrance. Let's go in here first." And I steers him +through the office door of the middle buildin'. Then I hunts up the +superintendent. +</P> + +<P> +"Just takin' a ramble through the works," says I. "Don't bother. We'll +find our way." +</P> + +<P> +Some busy little scene it is, too, with all them lathes and things goin', +belts whirrin' overhead, and workmen in undershirts about as thick as +they could be placed. +</P> + +<P> +I towed Cecil in and out of rooms, up and down stairs, until he must have +been dizzy, and ends by leadin' him into the yard. +</P> + +<P> +"Storage sheds," says I, pointin' to the neat rows of shell-cases piled +from the ground to the roof. "And a dozen motor-trucks haulin' 'em away +all the time." +</P> + +<P> +The Lieutenant he inspects some of 'em, lookin' wise; and then he walks +to the back, where there's a high board fence with barbed wire on top. +"What's over there?" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Blamed if I know," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"It's rather important," says he. "Let's have a look." +</P> + +<P> +I didn't get the connection, but I helped him shove a packin'-case up +against the fence, so he could climb up. For a minute or so he stares, +then he ducks down and beckons to me. +</P> + +<P> +"I say," he whispers. "Come up here. Don't show your head. There! +What do you make of that?" +</P> + +<P> +So I'm prepared for something tragic and thrillin'. But all I can see is +an old slate-roofed house, one of these weather-beaten, dormer-windowed +relics of the time when that part of town was still in the suburbs. +There's quite a big yard in the back, with a few scrubby old pear trees, +a double row of mangy box-bushes, and other traces of what must have been +a garden. +</P> + +<P> +In the far corner is a crazy old summer-house with a saggin' roof and the +sides covered with tar paper. There's a door to it, fastened with a big +red padlock. +</P> + +<P> +Standin' on the back porch of the house are two of the help, so I judged. +One is a square-built female with a stupid, heavy face, while the other +is a tall, skinny old girl with narrow-set eyes and a sharp nose. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, "where's your riot?" +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-s-sh!" says he. "They're up to some mischief. One of them is +hiding something under her shawl. Watch." +</P> + +<P> +Sure enough, the skinny one did have her left elbow stuck out, and there +was a bulge in the shawl. +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like a case of emptyin' the ashes," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Or of placing a bomb," whispers the Lieutenant. +</P> + +<P> +"Mooshwaw!" says I. "Bomb your aunt! What for should they—" +</P> + +<P> +"Look now!" he breaks in. "There!" +</P> + +<P> +They're advancin' in single file, slow and stealthy, and gazin' around +cautious. Mainly they seem to be watchin' the back fire-escapes of the +flat buildin' next door, but now and then one of 'em turns and glances +towards the old house they've just left. They make straight for the +shack in the corner of the yard, and in a minute more the fat one has +produced a key and is fumblin' with the red padlock. +</P> + +<P> +She opens the door only far enough to let the slim one slip in, then +stands with her back against it, her eyes rollin' first one way and then +the other. +</P> + +<P> +Two or three minutes the slim one was in there, then she slides out, the +door is locked, and she scuttles off towards the house, the wide one +waddlin' behind her. +</P> + +<P> +"My word!" gasps the Lieutenant. "Right against the wing of your +factory, that shed is. And a bomb of that size would blow it into +match-wood." +</P> + +<P> +"That's so," says I. +</P> + +<P> +Course, we hadn't really seen any bomb; but, what with the odd notions of +them two females and the Lieutenant's panicky talk, I was feelin' almost +jumpy myself. +</P> + +<P> +"A time-fuse, most likely," says he, "set for midnight. That should give +us several hours. We must find out who lives in that house." +</P> + +<P> +"Ought to be simple," says I. "Come on." +</P> + +<P> +We chases around the block and rings up the janitor of the flat buildin'. +He's a wrinkled, blear-eyed old pirate, just on his way to the corner +with a tin growler. +</P> + +<P> +"Yah! You won't git in to sell him no books," says he, leerin' at us. +</P> + +<P> +"Think so?" says I, displayin' a quarter temptin'. "Maybe if we had his +name, though, and knew something about him, we might—" +</P> + +<P> +"It's Bauer," says the janitor, eyein' the two bits longin'. "Herman Z. +Bauer; a big brewer once, but now—yah, an old cripple. Gout, they say. +And mean as he is rich. See that high fence? He built that to shut off +our light—the swine! Bauer, his name is. You ask for Herman Bauer. +Maybe you get in." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, old sport," says I, slippin' him the quarter. "Give him your +best regards, shall I?" +</P> + +<P> +And as he goes off chucklin' the Lieutenant whispers hoarse: +</P> + +<P> +"Hah! I knew it. Bauer, eh? And to-night he'll be sitting at one of +those back windows, his ears stuffed with cotton, watching to see your +plant blown up. We must have the constables here right away." +</P> + +<P> +"On what charge?" says I. "That two of the kitchen maids was seen in +their own back yard? You know you can't spring that safety-of-the-realm +stuff over here. The police would only give us the laugh. We got to +have something definite to tell the sergeant. Let's go after it." +</P> + +<P> +"But I say!" protests Cecil. "Just how, you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not by stickin' here, anyway," says I. "Kick in and use your bean, is +my program. Come along and see what happens." +</P> + +<P> +So first off we strolls past and has a look at the place. It's shut in +by a rusty iron fence with high spiked pickets. The house sets well back +from the sidewalk, and the front is nearly covered by some sort of vine. +At the side there are double gates openin' into a grass-grown driveway. +</P> + +<P> +I was just noticin' that they was chained and locked when the Lieutenant +gives me a nudge and pulls me along by the coat sleeve. I gets a glimpse +of the square-built female waddlin' around the corner of the house. We +passes by innocent and hangs up in front of a plumbery shop, starin' in +at a fascinatin' display of one bathtub and a second-hand hot-water +boiler. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I could see her scout up +and down the street, unfasten the gate, and then disappear. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says I. "Kitchen company expected." +</P> + +<P> +"Or more conspirators," adds Cecil. "By Jove! Isn't this one now?" +</P> + +<P> +There's no denyin' he looked the part, this short-legged, long-armed, +heavy-podded gent with the greasy old derby tilted rakish over one ear. +Such a hard face he has, a reg'lar low-brow map, and a neck like a +choppin'-block. His stubby legs are sprung out at the knees, and his +arms have a good deal the same curve. +</P> + +<P> +"Built like a dachshund, ain't he?" I remarks. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," says Fothergill. "See, he's stopping. And he has a bundle +under one arm." +</P> + +<P> +"Overalls," says I. "Plumber, maybe." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't that a knife-handle sticking out of the end of the bundle?" asks +the Lieutenant. +</P> + +<P> +So it was; a butcher knife, at that. He has stopped opposite the double +gates and is scowlin' around. Then he glances quick at the house. A +side shutter opens just then and a dust-cloth is shaken vigorous. Seein' +which, he promptly pushes through the gates. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha!" says the Lieutenant. "A signal. He'll be the one to attach the +fuse and light it, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Well, I admit that up to that time I hadn't been takin' all this very +serious, discountin' most of Cecil's suspicions as due to an over-worked +imagination. But now I'm beginnin' to feel thrills down my spine. +</P> + +<P> +What if this was a bomb plot? Some sort of bunk was being put over +here—no gettin' away from that. And if one of our shell factories was +in danger of being dynamited, here was my cue to make a medal play, +wa'n't it? +</P> + +<P> +"I am for telephoning the authorities at once," announces Cecil. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, you don't know our bonehead cops," says I. "Besides, if we can +block the game ourselves, what's the use? Let's get 'em in the act. I'm +going to pipe off our friend with the meat-knife." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I've only a .34-caliber automatic with me," says the Lieutenant, +reachin' into his side pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you don't want a machine-gun, do you?" says I. "And don't go +shootin' reckless. Here, lemme get on the other side. Close to the +house, now, on the grass, until we can get a peek around the—" +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-s-sh!" says Cecil, grippin' my arm. He was strong on shushin' me +up, the Lieutenant was. This time, though, he had the right dope; for a +few steps more and we got a view of the back porch. +</P> + +<P> +And there are the two maids, hand in hand, watchin' the motions of the +squatty gent, who is unlockin' the summer-house. He disappears inside. +</P> + +<P> +At that Cecil just has to cut loose. Before I can stop him, he's stepped +out, pulled his gun, and is wavin' it at the two females. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, now! Hands up! No nonsense," he orders. +</P> + +<P> +"Howly saints!" wails the square-built party, clutchin' the slim one +desperate. "Maggie! Maggie!" +</P> + +<P> +Maggie she's turned pale in the gills, her mouth is hangin' open, and her +eyes are bugged, but she ain't too scared to put up an argument. +</P> + +<P> +"Have yez a warrant?" she demands. "Annyways, my Cousin Tim Fealey'll go +bail for us. An' if it was that Swede janitor next door made the +complaint on us I'll—" +</P> + +<P> +"Woman!" breaks in the Lieutenant. "Don't you know that you have been +apprehended in a grave offense? You'd best tell all. Now, who put you +up to this? Your master, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Howly saints! Mr. Bauer!" groans the fat one. +</P> + +<P> +"For the love of the saints, don't tell him!" says Maggie. "Don't tell +Mr. Bauer, there's a dear. It was off'm Cousin Tim we got it." +</P> + +<P> +"That miscreant in the shed there?" asks the Lieutenant. +</P> + +<P> +"Him?" says Maggie. "Lord love ye, no. That's only Schwartzenberger, +from the slaughter-house. And please, Mister, it'll be gone the +mornin'—ivry bit gone." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, will it!" says Cecil sarcastic. "But you'll be in prison first." +</P> + +<P> +"Wurra! Wurra!" moans the fat female. "Save us, Maggie! Let him have +it for the takin's." +</P> + +<P> +"I will not, then," says Maggie. "Not if he's the president of the Board +of Health himself." +</P> + +<P> +"Enough of this," says the Lieutenant. "Hands up, you bomb plotters!" +</P> + +<P> +But about then I'd begun to acquire the hunch that we might be makin' a +slight mistake, and that it was time for me to crash in. Which I does. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me," says I; "but maybe it would help, Maggie, if you'd say right +out what it is you've got in the shed there." +</P> + +<P> +"What is ut?" says she, tossin' her head defiant. "As though you didn't +know! Well, it's a pig, then." +</P> + +<P> +"A pig!" sneers the Lieutenant. "Very likely, that is!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yez didn't think it was a hip-pot-ta-mus, did ye?" comes back Maggie. +"An' why should you be after botherin' us with your health +ordinances—two poor girls that has a chance to turn a few pennies, with +pork so dear? 'Look at all that good swill goin' to waste,' says I to +Katie here. 'An' who's to care if I do boil some extra praties now an' +then? Mr. Bauer's that rich, ain't he? An' what harm at all should +there be in raisin' one little shoat in th' back yard?' So there, +Mister! Do your worst. An' maybe it's only a warnin' I'll get from th' +justice when he hears how Schwartzenberger's killed and dressed and taken +him off before daylight. There he goes, the poor darlint! That's his +last squeal." +</P> + +<P> +We didn't need to stretch our ears to catch it. I looks over at the +Lieutenant and grins foolish. But he wouldn't be satisfied until Maggie +had towed him out to view the remains. He's pink behind the ears when he +comes back, too. +</P> + +<P> +"Please, Mister Inspector," says Maggie, "you'll not have us up this +time, will yez?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" says Cecil. +</P> + +<P> +"Seein' it's you," says I, "he won't. Course, though, a report of this +plot of yours'll have to be made to the British War Office." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I say now!" protests the Lieutenant. +</P> + +<P> +And all the way down to his hotel he holds that vivid neck tint. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says Old Hickory, as I drifts back to the office, "did you and +the Lieutenant discover any serious plot of international character?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure thing!" says I. "We found a contraband Irish pig in Herman Bauer's +back yard. +</P> + +<P> +"Wha-a-at?" he demands. +</P> + +<P> +"If the pig had been a bomb, and its tail a time-fuse," says I, "it would +have wrecked our main works. As it, is, we've had a narrow escape. But +I don't think Cecil will bother us any more. He's too good for the army, +anyway. He ought to be writin' for the movies." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TORCHY HANDS OUT A SPILL +</H3> + + +<P> +Maybe I've indulged, now and then, in a few remarks on Auntie. But, +say, there's no danger of exhaustin' the subject—not a chance. For +she's some complicated old girl, take it from me. First off, there's +that stick-around disposition of hers. Now, I expect that just +naturally grew on her, same as my pink thatch did on me. She can't +help it; and what's the use blamin' her for it? +</P> + +<P> +So, when I drop in for my reg'lar Wednesday and Sunday night calls, the +main object of the expedition being to swap a little friendly chatter +with Vee, and I find Auntie planted prominent and permanent in the +sittin'-room, why, I just grins and makes the best of it. +</P> + +<P> +A patient and consistent sitter-out, Auntie is. And you know that face +of hers ain't exactly the chirky sort. Don't encourage you to get +chummy, or tip her the confidential wink, or chuck her under the chin. +Nothing like that—no. +</P> + +<P> +Not a regular battle-ax, you understand. For all that, she ain't such +a bad-lookin' old dame, when you get her in a dim light. Though the +expression she generally favors me with, while it ain't so near assault +and battery as it used to be, wouldn't take the place of two lumps in a +cup of tea. +</P> + +<P> +But you kind of get used to that acetic acid stuff after a while; and, +since I'm announced by a reg'lar name now—"Meestir Beel-lard" is +Helma's best stab at Ballard—and Auntie knowin' that I got a perfectly +good uncle behind me, besides bein' a private sec. myself, why, she +don't mean more'n half of it. +</P> + +<P> +Besides, even with her sittin' right there in the room, there's a lot +doin' that she ain't in on. Trust Vee. Say, she can drum out +classical stuff on the piano and fire a snappy line of repartee at me +all the while, just loud enough for me to catch and no more, without +battin' an eye. Say, I'm gettin' quite a musical education, just +helpin' to stall off Auntie that way. And you should see the cute +schemes Vee puts over—settin' a framed photo so it throws the light in +the old girl's eyes, or shiftin' our chairs so she has to stretch her +neck to keep track of us. +</P> + +<P> +Makes an evenin' call quite an excitin' game; and when we work in a few +minutes of hand-holdin', or I get away with a hasty clinch, why, that +scores for our side. So, for a personally conducted affair, it ain't +so poor. I'm missin' no dates, I notice. And tuck this away; if it +was a case of Vee and a whole squad of aunts, or an uninterrupted +two-some with one of these nobody-home dolls, I'd pick Vee and the +gallery. Uh-huh! I'm just that good to myself. +</P> + +<P> +All was goin' along smooth and merry, too, until one Wednesday night I +discovers another lid ahead of mine on the hall table. It's a glossy +silk tile, with a pair of gray castor gloves folded neat alongside. +Seein' which I reaches past Helma for the silver card-tray. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says I under my breath. "Now, who the giddy gallowampuses is +Clyde Creighton?" +</P> + +<P> +"Vair nice gentlemans, Meester Creeton," whispers Helma. +</P> + +<P> +"I know," says I; "you're judgin' by the hat." +</P> + +<P> +She springs that silly grin of hers, as usual. No matter what I say, +it gets open-faced motions out of Helma. But I really wasn't feelin' +so humorous. Whoever he was, this Creighton guy had come the wrong +evenin'. Course, I judged it must be Vee he's callin' on, and I wasn't +strong for a three-handed session just then. There was something +special I wanted to talk over with Vee this particular evenin', and I +couldn't see why— +</P> + +<P> +But, my first glimpse of Clyde soothes me down a lot. He has curly +gray hair, also a mustache that's well frosted up. He's a tall, slim +built party, with a wide black ribbon to tie him to his eyeglasses. +Seems to be entertainin' Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" says he, inspectin' me casual over the shell rims. "Mr. +Ballard?" And, with a skimpy little nod, he turns back to Auntie and +goes on where he broke off, leavin' me to shake hands with myself if I +wanted to. +</P> + +<P> +I expect it served me right, cuttin' in abrupt on such a highbrow +conversation as that. Something about the pre-Raphael tendencies of +the Barbizon school, I think. +</P> + +<P> +Culture! Say, if I'm any judge, Claude was battin' about 400. It +fairly dripped from him. Talk about broad o's—he spilled 'em easy and +natural, a font to a galley; and he couldn't any more miss the final g +than a telephone girl would overlook rollin' her r's. And such +graceful gestures with the shell-rimmed glasses, wavin' 'em the whole +length of the ribbon when he got real interested. +</P> + +<P> +I don't think I ever saw Auntie come so near beamin' before. She seems +right at home, fieldin' that line of chat. And Vee, too, is more or +less under the spell. As for me, I'm on the outside lookin' in. I did +manage though, after doin' the dummy act for half an hour, to lead Vee +off to the window alcove and get in a few words. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-038"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-038.jpg" ALT=""I don't think I ever saw Auntie come so near beamin' before." BORDER="2" WIDTH="493" HEIGHT="434"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "I don't think I ever saw Auntie come so near beamin' +before. She seems right at home, fieldin' that line of chat. And Vee, +too, is more or less under the spell."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"Who's the professor?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, he isn't a professor," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"He's got the patter," says I. "Old friend of Auntie's, I take it?" +</P> + +<P> +No, it wasn't quite that. Seems the late Mrs. Creighton had been a +chum of Auntie's 'way back when they was girls, and the fact had only +been discovered when Clyde and Auntie got together a few days before at +some studio tea doins'. +</P> + +<P> +"About how late was the late Mrs. C. C.?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he has been a widower for several years, I think," says Vee. +"Poor man! Isn't he distinguished-looking?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-e-es," says I. "A bit stagey." +</P> + +<P> +"How absurd!" says she. "Isn't it fascinating to hear him talk?" +</P> + +<P> +"Reg'lar paralyzin'," says I. "I was gettin' numb from the knees down." +</P> + +<P> +"Silly!" says Vee, givin' me a reprovin' pat. "Do be quiet; he is +telling Auntie about his wife now." +</P> + +<P> +Yep, he was. Doin' it beautiful too, sayin' what a lovely character +she had, how congenial they was, and what an inspiration she'd been to +him in his career. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed," he goes on, "if it had not been for the gentle influence of +my beloved Alicia, I should not be what I am to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"Say," I whispers, nudgin' Vee, "what is he to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says she, "why—er—I don't quite know. He collects antiques, +for one thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Does he?" says I. "Then maybe he's after Auntie." +</P> + +<P> +First off Vee snickers, after which she lets on to be peeved and +proceeds to rumple my hair. Clyde catches her at it too, and looks +sort of pained. But Auntie's too much interested in the reminiscences +to notice. Yes, there's no discountin' the fact that the old girl was +fallin' for him hard. +</P> + +<P> +Not that we thought much about it at that time. But later on, when I +finds he's been droppin' in for tea, been there for dinner Saturday, +and has beat me to it again Sunday evenin', I begins to sprout +suspicions. +</P> + +<P> +"He seems to be gettin' the habit, eh?" I suggests to Vee. +</P> + +<P> +She don't deny it. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's doin' the rushin'," says I, "him or Auntie?" +</P> + +<P> +Vee shrugs her shoulders. "He came around to-night," says she, "to +show Auntie some miniatures of the late Alicia. She asked to see them. +Look! They are examining one now." +</P> + +<P> +Sure enough they were, with their heads close together. And Auntie is +pattin' him soothin' on the arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Kind of kittenish motions, if you ask me," says I. "She's gazin' at +him mushy, too." +</P> + +<P> +"I never knew Auntie to be quite so absurd," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," I whispers, "how about givin' 'em a sample of the butt-in act, +so they'll know how it seems?" +</P> + +<P> +Vee smothers a giggle. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's!" says she. +</P> + +<P> +So we leaves the alcove and crashes in on this close-harmony duet. Vee +has to see the miniatures of Alicia, and she has to show 'em to me. +Also we pulls up chairs and sits there, listenin' with our mouths open, +right in the midst of things. +</P> + +<P> +Auntie does her best to shunt us, too. +</P> + +<P> +"Verona," says she, "why don't you and Torchy get out the chafing-dish +and make some of that delicious maple fudge you are so fond of." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Aunty!" says Vee. "When you know I've stopped eating candy for a +month." +</P> + +<P> +"You might play something for him," is Auntie's next suggestion. "That +new chanson." +</P> + +<P> +"But we'd much rather listen to you and Mr. Creighton," says Vee. +"Hadn't we, Torchy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite flattering, I'm sure," puts in Clyde, smilin' sarcastic, while +Auntie shoots a doubtful look at me. +</P> + +<P> +But we hung around just the same, and before ten o'clock Creighton +announces that he must really be going. +</P> + +<P> +"Me too," says I, cheerful. "I'll ride down with you if you don't +mind." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, charmed!" says Clyde. +</P> + +<P> +It wasn't that I was so strong for his comp'ny, but I'd just annexed +the idea that it might be a good hunch to get a little line on exactly +who this Mr. Clyde Creighton was. Vee don't seem to know anything very +definite about him, outside of the Alicia incident; and it struck me +that if there was a prospect of havin' him in the fam'ly, as it were, +someone ought to see his credentials. Anyway, it wouldn't do any harm +to pump him a bit. +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me for changing my mind," says Clyde, as we hits the sidewalk, +"but I think I prefer to walk downtown." +</P> + +<P> +"Just what I was goin' to spring on you," says I. "Fine evenin' for a +little thirty-block saunter, too. Let's see, the Plutoria's where +you're staying ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why—er—yes," says he, hesitatin'. +</P> + +<P> +I couldn't make out why he should choke over it, for I'd heard him say +distinctly he was livin' there. But it was amazin' what an effect the +night air had on his conversation works. Seemed to dry 'em up. +</P> + +<P> +"Interested in antiques, are you?" says I, sort of folksy. +</P> + +<P> +"Somewhat," says Clyde, steppin' out brisk. +</P> + +<P> +"Odd line," says I. "Now, I could never see much percentage in havin' +grandfathers' clocks and old spinning-wheels and such junk around." +</P> + +<P> +"Really," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"One of your fads, I expect?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"M-m-m," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Shouldn't think you'd find room in a hotel for such stuff," I goes on, +doin' a hop-skip across a curb, "or do you have another joint, too?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," says he. "Studio." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says I. "Whereabouts?" +</P> + +<P> +"In town," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, most of 'em are," says I. "But I expect you'll be gettin' +married again some of these days and settin' up a reg'lar home, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +He stops short and gives me a stare. +</P> + +<P> +"If I feel the need of discussing the project," says he, "I shall +remember that you are available." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't mention it," says I. +</P> + +<P> +Somehow, I didn't tap Clyde for so much real information. In fact, if +I'd been at all touchy I might have worked up the notion that I was +bein' snubbed. +</P> + +<P> +I keeps step with Mr. Creighton clear to his hotel, where he swings in +the Fifth Avenue entrance without wastin' any breath over fond adieus. +I can't say why I didn't go on home then, instead of hangin' up +outside. Maybe it was because the sidewalk taxi agent had sort of a +familiar look, or perhaps I had an idea I was bein' sleuthy. +</P> + +<P> +Must have been four or five minutes I'd been standin' there, starin' at +the entrance, when out through the revolvin' door breezes Clyde, +puffin' a cigarette and swingin' his walkin'-stick jaunty. He don't +spot me until he's about to brush by, and then he stops short. +</P> + +<P> +"Forgot something?" I suggests. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah—er—evidently," says he, and whirls and marches back into the +hotel. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says I, indicatin' nothin' much. +</P> + +<P> +"Where to, sir?" says someone at my elbow. +</P> + +<P> +It's the taxi agent, who has drifted up and mistaken me for a foolish +guest. +</P> + +<P> +Kind of a throaty, husky voice he has, that you wouldn't forget easy; +and I knew them aëroplane ears of his couldn't be duplicated. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, hello, Loppy!" says I. "How long since you quit runnin' copy in +the Sunday room?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, blow me!" says he. "Torchy, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +That's what comes of havin' been in the newspaper business once. You +never know when you're going to run across one of the old crowd. I cut +short the reunion, though, to ask about Creighton. +</P> + +<P> +"The swell in the silk lid I just had words with," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't place him," says Loppy. "Never turned a flag for him, anyway. +Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'd kind of like to get a sketch of him," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"That's easy," says Loppy. "Remember Scanlon, that used to be doorman +at Headquarters?" +</P> + +<P> +"Squint?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Same one," says he. "Well, he's inside—one of the house detective +squad. His night on, too. And say, if your man's one that hangs out +here you can bank on Squint to give you the story of his life. Just +step in and send a bell-hop after Squint. Say I want him." +</P> + +<P> +And inside of two minutes we had Squint with us. He remembers me too, +and when he finds I'm an old friend of Whitey Weeks he opens up. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I've seen that party around more or less," says he. "Creighton, +eh? Well, he's no guest. Yes, I'm sure he don't room here. He just +blew through the north exit. What's his line?" +</P> + +<P> +"Antiques, he says," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, sure!" says Squint. "Now I have him located. He's a free-lunch +hitter; I remember one of the barkeeps grouching about him. But say, +if you're after full details you ought to have a talk with Colonel +Brassle. He knows him. And the Colonel ought to be strolling in from +the Army and Navy Club soon. Want to wait?" +</P> + +<P> +"Long as I've started this thing, I might as well stay with it," says I. +</P> + +<P> +Yep, I waits for the Colonel. Some enthusiastic describer, Colonel +Brassle is, when he gets going. It was near 1 A.M. when I finally +tears myself away; but I'm loaded up with enough facts about Creighton +to fill a book. And few of 'em was what you might call complimentary +to Clyde. For one thing, his dear Alicia hadn't found him as inspirin' +as he had her. Anyway, she'd complained a lot about his hang-over +disposition, and finally quit him for good five or six years before she +passed on. Also, Clyde was no plute. He was existin' chiefly on bluff +at present, and that studio of his was a rear loft over a +delivery-truck garage down off Sixth Avenue. Then, there was other +items just as interestin'. +</P> + +<P> +But how I was goin' to get it all on record for Auntie I couldn't quite +dope out. Anyway, there was no grand rush; it would keep. So I just +lets things slide for a day or so. Maybe next Wednesday evenin' I'd +have a chance to throw out a hint. +</P> + +<P> +Then, here Tuesday afternoon I gets this trouble call from Vee. She's +out at the corner drug store on the 'phone. +</P> + +<P> +"It's about Auntie," says she. "She is acting so queerly." +</P> + +<P> +"Any more so than usual?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"She is going somewhere, and she hasn't told me a word about it," says +Vee. "I found her traveling-bag, all packed, hidden under the +hall-seat." +</P> + +<P> +"The old cut-up!" says I. "What about Creighton—he been around +lately?" +</P> + +<P> +"Every afternoon and evening," says Vee. "He's to take her to a +concert somewhere this evening. I'm not asked." +</P> + +<P> +"Shows his poor taste," says I. "He's due there about eight o'clock, +eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Seven-thirty," says Vee. "But I don't know what to think, Torchy—the +traveling-bag and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't bother a bit, Vee," says I. "Leave it to me. If it's Clyde at +the bottom of this, I've as good as got him spiked to the track. Let +Auntie pack her trunk if she wants to, and don't say a word. Give the +giddy old thing a chance. It'll be all the merrier afterwards." +</P> + +<P> +"But—but I don't understand." +</P> + +<P> +"Me either," says I. "I'm a grand little guesser, though. And I'll be +outside, in ambush for Clyde, from seven o'clock on." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you?" says Vee,' sighin' relieved. "But do be careful, Torchy. +Don't—don't be reckless." +</P> + +<P> +"Pooh!" says I. "That's my middle name. If I get slapped on the wrist +and perish from it, you'll know it was all for you." +</P> + +<P> +Course, it would have been more heroic if Clyde hadn't been such a +ladylike gent. As it is, he's about as terrifyin' as a white poodle. +So I'm still breathin' calm and reg'lar when I sees him rollin' up in a +cab about seven-twenty-five. I'm at the curb before he can open the +taxi door. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry," says I, "but I'm afraid it's all off." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says he, gawpin' at me. +</P> + +<P> +"And you with your suit-case all packed too," says I. "How provokin'! +But they're apt to change their minds, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean," says he, "that—er—ah—" +</P> + +<P> +"Something like that," I breaks in. "Anyway, you can judge. For, the +fact is, some busybody has been gossipin' about your little trick of +bawlin' out Alicia over the coffee and rolls and draggin' her round by +the hair." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha-a-at?" he gasps. +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't mention the divorce, did you?" I goes on. "Nor go into +details about your antique business? That Marie Antoinette +dressin'-table game of yours, for instance. You know there is such a +thing as floodin' the market with genuine Connecticut-made relics like +that." +</P> + +<P> +Gets him white about the gills, this jab does. +</P> + +<P> +"Puppy!" he hisses out. "Do you insinuate that—" +</P> + +<P> +"Not me," says I. "I'm too polite. But when you unload duplicates of +the late Oliver Cromwell's writing-desk you ought to see that both +don't go to friends of Colonel Brassle. Messy old party, the Colonel, +and I understand he's tryin' to induce 'em to make trouble. Course, +you might explain all that to Auntie; but in her present state of +mind— Eh? Must you be goin'? Any word to send up? Shall I tell her +this wilt-thou date is postponed to—" +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" says Clyde, bangin' the taxi door shut and signalin' the +chauffeur to get under way. I think I saw him shakin' his fist back at +me as he drives off. So rough of him! +</P> + +<P> +Upstairs I finds Auntie all in a flutter and tryin' to hide it. Vee +looks at me inquirin' and anxious, but I chats on for a while just as +if nothing had happened. Somehow, I was enjoyin' watchin' Auntie +squirm. My mistake was in forgettin' that Vee was fidgety, too. No +sooner has Auntie left the room, to send Helma scoutin' down to the +front door, than I'm reminded. +</P> + +<P> +"Ouch!" says I. Vee sure can pinch when she tries. I decides to +report. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh; by the way," says I, as Auntie comes back, "I just ran across Mr. +Creighton." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" says Auntie eager. +</P> + +<P> +"He wasn't feelin' quite himself," says I. "Sudden attack of something +or other. He didn't say exactly. But I expect that concert excursion +is scratched." +</P> + +<P> +"Scratched!" says Auntie, lookin' dazed. +</P> + +<P> +"Canceled," says I. "Anyway, he went off in a hurry." +</P> + +<P> +"But—but he-was to have—" And there she stops. +</P> + +<P> +"I know," says I. "Maybe he'll explain later, though." +</P> + +<P> +No wonder she was dizzy from it, and it's quite natural that soon after +she felt one of her bad headaches comin' on. So Vee and Helma got busy +at once. After they'd tucked her away with the ice-bag and the +smellin'-salts, she asked to be let alone; so durin' the next half hour +I had a chance to tell Vee all about Creighton and his career. +</P> + +<P> +"But he did seem so refined!" says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Yon got to be," says I, "to deal in fake antiques. His mistake was in +tacklin' something genuine"; and I nods towards a picture of Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see how I can ever tell her," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"It would be a shame," says I. "Them late romances come so sudden. +Why not just let her press it and put it away? Clyde will never come +back." +</P> + +<P> +"Just think, Torchy," says Vee, sort of snugglin' up. "If it hadn't +been for you!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's my aim in life," says I—"to prove I'm needed in the fam'ly." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HOW HAM PASSED THE BUCK +</H3> + + +<P> +I expect you'll admit that when Mr. Robert slides out at 11 A.M. and +don't show up again until after three he's stretchin' the lunch hour a +bit. But, whatever other failin's I may have, I believe in bein' easy +with the boss. So, when he breezes into the private office in the +middle of the afternoon, I just gives him the grin, friendly and +indulgent like. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Torchy," he calls over to me, "have I missed anyone?" +</P> + +<P> +"Depends on how it strikes you," says I. "Mr. Hamilton Adams has near +burned out the switchboard tryin' to get you on the 'phone. Called up +four times." +</P> + +<P> +"Ham, eh?" says he, shruggin' his shoulders careless. "Then I can +hardly say I regret being late. I trust he left no message." +</P> + +<P> +"This ain't your lucky day," says I. "He did. Wants to see you very +special. Wants you to look him up." +</P> + +<P> +"At the club, I suppose?" says Mr. Robert. +</P> + +<P> +"No, at his rooms," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"The deuce he does!" says Mr. Robert. "Why doesn't he come here if +it's so urgent?" +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't say exactly," says I, "but from hints he dropped I take it +he can't get out. Sick, maybe." +</P> + +<P> +"Humph!" says Mr. Robert, rubbin' his chin thoughtful. "If that is the +case—" Then he stops and stares puzzled into the front of the +roll-top, where the noon mail is sorted and stacked in the wire baskets. +</P> + +<P> +I don't hear anything more from him for two or three minutes, when he +signals me over and pulls up a chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah—er—about Ham Adams, now," he begins. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Mr. Robert," says I, "you ain't never goin' to wish him onto me, +are you? Why, him and me wouldn't get along a little bit." +</P> + +<P> +"I must concede," says he, "that Mr. Adams has not a winning +personality. Yet there are redeeming features. He plays an excellent +game of billiards, his taste in the matter of vintage wines is +unerring, and in at least two rather vital scrimmages which I had with +the regatta committee he was on my side. And, while I feel that I have +more than repaid any balance due— Well, I can't utterly ignore him +now. But as for hunting him up this afternoon—" Mr. Robert nods at +the stacks of letters. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, all right," says I. "What's his number?" +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Robert writes it on a card. +</P> + +<P> +"You may as well understand my position," says he. "I have already +invested some twenty-five hundred dollars in Mr. Adams' uncertain +prospects. I must stop somewhere. Of course, if he's ill or in +desperate straits— Well, here is another hundred which you may offer +or not, as you find best. I am relying, you see, on your somewhat +remarkable facility for rescuing truth from the bottom of the well or +any other foolish hiding-place." +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin', I expect," says I, "that you're after a sort of general +report, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," says Mr. Robert. "You see, it's a business errand, in a +way. You go as a probing committee of one, with full powers." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a tough assignment," says I, "but I'll do my best." +</P> + +<P> +For I'd seen enough of Ham Adams to know he wa'n't the kind to open up +easy. One of these bull-necked husks, Mr. Adams is, with all the +pleasin' manners of a jail warden. Honest, in all the times he's been +into the Corrugated general offices, I've never seen him give anyone +but Mr. Robert so much as a nod. Always marched in like he was goin' +to trample you under foot if you didn't get out of his way, and he had +a habit of scowlin' over your head like he didn't see you at all. +</P> + +<P> +I expect that was his idea of keeping the lower classes in their place. +He was an income aristocrat, Ham was. Always had been. Phosphate +mines down South somewheres, left to him by an aunt who had brought him +up. And with easy money comin' in fresh and fresh every quarter, +without havin' to turn a hand to get it, you'd 'most think he could +take life cheerful. He don't, though. Hardly anything suits him. He +develops into the club grouch, starin' slit-eyed at new members, and +cultivatin' the stony glare for the world in general. +</P> + +<P> +And then, all of a sudden, his income dries up. Stops absolutely. +Something about not bein' able to ship any more phosphate to Germany. +Anyway, the quarterly stuff is all off. I'd heard him takin' on about +it to Mr. Robert—cussin' out the State Department, the Kaiser, the +Allies, anybody he could think of to lay the blame to. Why didn't +someone do something? It was a blessed outrage. What was one to do? +</P> + +<P> +Ham's next idea seems to be who was one to do; and Mr. Robert, being +handy, was tagged. First off it was a loan; a good-sized one; then a +note or so, and finally he gets down to a plain touch now and then, +when Mr. Robert couldn't dodge. +</P> + +<P> +But for a month or more, until this S. O. S. call comes in, he don't +show up at all. So I'm some curious myself to know just what's struck +him. I must say, though, that for a party who's been crossed off the +dividend list for more'n a year, he's chuckin' a good bluff. Some +spiffy bachelor apartments these are that I locates—tubbed bay trees +out front, tapestry panels in the reception-room, and a doorman +uniformed like a rear-admiral. I has to tell the 'phone girl who I am +and why, and get an upstairs O. K., before I'm passed on to the +elevator. Also my ring at B suite, third floor, is answered by a +perfectly good valet. +</P> + +<P> +"From Mr. Ellins, sir?" says he, openin' the door a crack. +</P> + +<P> +"Straight," says I. +</P> + +<P> +He swings it wide and bows respectful. A classy party, this man of Mr. +Adams', too. Nothing down-and-out about him. Tuxedo, white tie, and +neat trimmed siders in front of his ears. One of these quiet spoken, +sleuthy movin' gents he is, a reg'lar stage valet. But he manages to +give me the once-over real thorough as he's towin' me in. +</P> + +<P> +"This way, sir," says he, brushin' back the draperies and shuntin' me +in among the leather chairs and Oriental rugs. +</P> + +<P> +Standin' in the middle of the room, with his feet wide apart, is Mr. +Adams, like he was waitin' impatient. You'd hardly call him sick abed. +I expect it would take a subway smash to dent him any. But, if his man +fails to look the part of better days gone by, Ham Adams is the true +picture of a seedy sport. His padded silk dressin'-gown is fringed +along the cuffs, and one of the shoulder seams is split; his slippers +are run over; and his shirt should have gone to the wash last week. +Also his chin is decorated in two places with surgeon's tape and has a +thick growth of stubble on it. As I drifts in he's makin' a bum +attempt to' roll a cigarette and is gazin' disgusted at the result. +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't Bob come himself?" he demands peevish. +</P> + +<P> +"Rush of business," says I. "He'd been takin' time off and the work +piled up on him." +</P> + +<P> +"Humph!" says Adams. "Well, I've got to see him, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"In that case," says I, "you ought to drop around about—" +</P> + +<P> +"Out of the question," says he. "Look at me. Been trying to shave +myself. Besides— Well, I can't!" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Robert thought," I goes on, "that you might—" +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" breaks in Mr. Adams, turnin' his back on me sudden and glarin' +at the draperies. "What is it, Nivens?" +</P> + +<P> +At which the valet appears, holdin' a bunch of roses. +</P> + +<P> +"From Mrs. Grenville Hawks, sir," says he. "They came while you were +at breakfast, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, put them in a vase—in there," says Ham. And as Nivens +goes out he kicks the door to after him. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, then," he goes on, "what was it Mr. Robert thought?" +</P> + +<P> +"That you might give me a line on how things stood with you," says I, +"so he'd know just what to do." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" growls Ham. "Tell you! Why, who the devil are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody much," says I. "Maybe you ain't noticed me in the office, but +I'm there. Private sec. to the president of Mutual Funding. My desk +is beyond Mr. Robert's, in the corner." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," says Adams; "I remember you now. And I suppose I may as +well tell you as anyone. For the fact is, I'm about at the end of my +string. I must get some money somewhere." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-e-es?" says I, sort of cagey. +</P> + +<P> +"Did Bob send any by you? Did he?" suddenly asks Adams. +</P> + +<P> +"Some," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"How much?" he demands. +</P> + +<P> +"A hundred," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" says he. "Why, that wouldn't— See here; you go back and tell +Bob I need a lot more than that—a couple of thousand, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +I shakes my head. "I guess a hundred is about the limit," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"But great Scott!" says Adams, grippin' his hands desperate. "I've +simply got to—" +</P> + +<P> +Then he breaks off and stares again towards the door. Next he steps +across the room soft and jerks it open, revealin' the classy Nivens +standin' there with his head on one side. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha!" snarls Ham. "Listening, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes, sir," says Nivens. "Naturally, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Why naturally?" says Adams. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm rather interested, that's all, sir," says Nivens. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you are, are you?" sneers Ham. "Come in here." +</P> + +<P> +He ain't at all bashful about acceptin' the invitation, nor our starin' +at him don't seem to get him a bit fussed. In fact, he's about the +coolest appearin' member of our little trio. +</P> + +<P> +Maybe some of that is due to the dead white of his face and the black +hair smoothed back so slick. A cucumbery sort of person, Nivens. He +has sort of a narrow face, taken bow on, but sideways it shows up clean +cut and almost distinguished. Them deep-set black eyes of his give him +a kind of mysterious look, too. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," says Ham Adams, squarin' off before him with his jaw set rugged, +"perhaps you will tell us why you were stretching your ear outside?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't it be better, sir, if I explained privately?" suggests +Nivens, glancin' at me. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, him!" says Adams. "Never mind him." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, sir," says Nivens. "I wanted to know if you were able to +raise any cash. I haven't mentioned it before, but there's a matter of +fifteen months' wages between us, sir, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes, I know," cuts in Ham. "But yon understand my circumstances. +That will come in time." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid I shall have to ask for a settlement very soon, sir," says +Nivens. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" gasps Adams. "Why, see here, Nivens; you've been with me for +five—six years, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Going on seven, sir," says Nivens. +</P> + +<P> +"And during all that time," suggests Ham, "I've paid you thousands of +dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"I've tried to earn it all, sir," says Nivens. +</P> + +<P> +"So you have," admits Ham. "I suppose I should have said so before. +As a valet you're a wonder. You've got a lot of sense, too. So why +insist now on my doing the impossible? You know very well I can't lay +my hands on a dollar." +</P> + +<P> +"But there's your friend Mr. Ellins," says Nivens. +</P> + +<P> +Ham Adams looks over at me. "I say," says he, "won't Bob stand for +more than a hundred? Are you sure?" +</P> + +<P> +"He only sent that in case you was sick," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"You see?" says Ham, turnin' to Nivens. "We've got to worry along the +best we can until things brighten up. I may have to sell off some of +these things." +</P> + +<P> +A cold near-smile flickers across Nivens' thin lips. +</P> + +<P> +"You hadn't thought of taking a position, had you, sir?" he asks +insinuatin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Position!" echoes Ham. "Me? Why, I never did any kind of work—don't +know how. Tell me, who do you think would give me a job at anything?" +</P> + +<P> +"Since you've asked, sir," says Nivens, "why, I might, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Ham Adams lets out a gasp. +</P> + +<P> +"You!" says he. +</P> + +<P> +"It's this way, sir," says Nivens, in that quiet, offhand style of his. +"I'd always been in the habit of putting by most of my wages, not +needing them to live on. There's tips, you know, sir, and quite a +little one can pick up—commissions from the stores, selling +second-hand clothes and shoes, and so on. So when Cousin Mabel had +this chance to buy out the Madame Ritz Beauty Parlors, where she'd been +forelady for so long, I could furnish half the capital and go in as a +silent partner." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha-a-at?" says Ham, his eyes bugged. "You own a half interest in a +beauty shop—in Madame Ritz's?" +</P> + +<P> +Nivens bows. +</P> + +<P> +"That is strictly between ourselves, sir," says he. "I wouldn't like +it generally known. But it's been quite a success—twelve attendants, +sir, all busy from eleven in the morning until ten at night. Mostly +limousine trade now, for we've doubled our prices within the last two +years. You'll see our ads in all the theater programs and Sunday +papers. That's what brings in the—" +</P> + +<P> +"But see here," breaks in Ham, "how the merry dingbats would you use me +in a beauty parlor? I'm just curious." +</P> + +<P> +Nivens pulls that flickery smile of his again. +</P> + +<P> +"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, sir," says he. "In fact, I +have nothing to do with the active management of Madame Ritz's; only +drop around once or twice a month to go over the books with Mabel. +It's wonderful how profits pile up, sir. Nearly ten thousand apiece +last year. So I've been thinking I ought to give up work. It was only +that I didn't quite know what to do with myself after. I've settled +that now, though; at least, Mabel has. 'You ought to take your place +in society,' she says, 'and get married.' The difficulty was, sir, to +decide just what place I ought to take. And then—well, it's an ill +wind, as they say, that blows nobody luck. Besides, if you'll pardon +me, sir, you seemed to be losing your hold on yours." +</P> + +<P> +"On—on mine?" asks Ham, his mouth open. +</P> + +<P> +Nivens nods. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm rather familiar with it, you see," says he. "Of course, I may not +fill it just as you did, but that would hardly be expected. I can try. +That is why I have been staying on. I've taken over the lease. The +agent has stopped bothering you, perhaps you have noticed. And I've +made out a complete inventory of the furnishings. In case I take them +over, I'll pay you a fair price—ten per cent. more than any dealer." +</P> + +<P> +"Do—do you mean to say," demands Adams, "that you are paying my rent?" +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me, mine," says Nivens. "The lease has stood in my name for +the last two months. I didn't care to hurry you, sir; I wanted to give +you every chance. But now, if you are quite at the end, I am ready to +propose the change." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on," says Ham, starin' at him. "What change?" +</P> + +<P> +"My place for yours," says Nivens. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" gasps Ham. +</P> + +<P> +"That is, of course, if you've nothing better to do, sir," says Nivens, +quiet and soothin'. "You'd soon pick it up, sir, my tastes being quite +similar. For instance—the bath ready at nine; fruit, coffee, toast, +and eggs at nine-fifteen, with the morning papers and the mail laid +out. Then at—" +</P> + +<P> +"See here, my man," breaks in Adams, breathin' hard. "Are you crazy, +or am I? Are you seriously suggesting that I become your valet?" +</P> + +<P> +Nivens shrugs his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"It occurred to me you'd find that the easiest way of settling your +account with me, sir," says he. "Then, too, you could stay on here, +almost as though nothing had happened. Quite likely I should go out a +bit more than you do, sir. Well, here you'd be: your easy chair, your +pictures, your favorite brands of cigars and Scotch. Oh, I assure you, +you'll find me quite as gentlemanly about not locking them up as you +have been, sir. I should make a few changes, of course; nothing +radical, however. And, really, that little back room of mine is very +cozy. What would come hardest for you, I suppose, would be the getting +up at seven-thirty; but with a good alarm clock, sir, you—" +</P> + +<P> +"Stop!" says Ham. "This—this is absurd. My head's swimming from it. +And yet— Well, what if I refuse?" +</P> + +<P> +Nivens lifts his black eyebrows significant. +</P> + +<P> +"I should hope I would not be forced to bring proceedings, sir," says +he. "Under the Wage Act, you know—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes," groans Ham, slumpin' into a chair and restin' his chin on +his hands. "I know. You could send me to jail. I should have thought +of that. But I—I didn't know how to get along alone. I've never had +to, you know, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Precisely, sir," says Nivens. "And allow me to suggest that another +employer might not have the patience to show you your duties. But I +shall be getting used to things myself, you know, and I sha'n't mind +telling you. If you say so, sir, we'll begin at once." +</P> + +<P> +Ham Adams gulps twice, like he was tryin' to swallow an egg, and then +asks: +</P> + +<P> +"Just how do—do you want to—to begin?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says Nivens, "you might get my shaving things and lay them out +in the bathroom. I think I ought to start by—er—dispensing with +these"; and he runs a white hand over the butler siders that frames his +ears. +</P> + +<P> +Almost like he was walkin' in his sleep, Ham gets up. He was headed +for the back of the suite, all right, starin' straight ahead of him, +when of a sudden he turns and catches me watchin'. He stops, and a +pink flush spreads from his neck up to his ears. +</P> + +<P> +"As you was just sayin'," says I, "don't mind me. Anyway, I guess this +is my exit cue." +</P> + +<P> +I tries to swap a grin with Nivens as I slips through the door. But +there's nothing doing. He's standin' in front of the mirror decidin' +just where he shall amputate those whiskers. +</P> + +<P> +First off Mr. Robert wouldn't believe it at all. Insists I'm feedin' +him some fairy tale. But when I gives him all the details, closin' +with a sketch of Ham startin' dazed for the back bathroom, he just +rocks in his chair and 'most chokes over it. +</P> + +<P> +"By George!" says he. "Ham Adams turning valet to his own man! Oh, +that is rich! But far be it from me to interfere with the ways of a +mysterious Providence. Besides, in six months or so his income will +probably be coming in again. Meanwhile— Well, we will see how it +works out." +</P> + +<P> +That was five or six weeks ago, and not until Tuesday last does either +of us hear another word. Mr. Robert he'd been too busy; and as for me, +I'd had no call. Still, being within a couple of blocks of the place, +I thought I might stroll past. I even hangs up outside the entrance a +few minutes, on the chance that one or the other of 'em might be goin' +in or out, I'd about given up though, and was startin' off, when I +almost bumps into someone dodgin' down the basement steps. +</P> + +<P> +It's Ham Adams, with a bottle of gasoline in one hand and a bundle of +laundry under his arm. Looks sprucer and snappier than I'd ever seen +him before, too. And that sour, surly look is all gone. Why, he's +almost smilin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" says I. "How's valetin' these days?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's you, is it?" says he. "Why, I'm getting along fine. Of +course, I never could be quite so good at it as—as Mr. Nivens was, but +he is kind enough to say that I am doing very well. Really, though, it +is quite simple. I just think of the things I should like to have done +for me, and—well, I do them for him. It's rather interesting, you +know." +</P> + +<P> +I expect I gawped some myself, hearing that from him. From Ham Adams, +mind you! +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-e-e-es; must be," says I, sort of draggy. Then I shifts the +subject. "How's Mr. Nivens gettin' along?" says I. "Ain't married +yet, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +For a second Ham Adams lapses back into his old glum look. +</P> + +<P> +"That is the only thing that worries me," says he. "No, he isn't +married, as yet; but he means to be. And the lady—well, she's a +widow, rather well off. Nice sort of person, in a way. A Mrs. +Grenville Hawks." +</P> + +<P> +"Not the one that used to send you bunches of roses?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +He stares at me, and then nods. +</P> + +<P> +"It seems that Mr. Nivens had already picked her out—before," says he. +"Oh, there was really nothing between us. I'd never been a marrying +man, you know. But Mrs. Hawks—well, we were rather congenial. She's +bright, not much of a highbrow, and not quite in the swim. I suppose I +might have— Oh, widows, you know. Told me she didn't intend to stay +one. And now Mr. Nivens has come to know her, in some way; through his +cousin Mabel, I suppose. Knows her quite well. She telephones him +here. I—I don't like it. It's not playing square with her for him +to— Well, you see what I mean. She doesn't know who he was." +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm not sure just what I ought to do," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"If you're callin' on me for a hunch," says I, "say so." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes," says he. "What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter," says I, "with beating him to it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why—er—by Jove!" says Ham. "I—I wonder." +</P> + +<P> +He was still standin' there, holdin' the gasoline bottle and gazin' +down the basement steps, as I passed on. Course, I was mostly joshin' +him. Half an hour later and I'd forgot all about it. Never gave him a +thought again until this mornin' I hears Mr. Robert explode over +something he's just read in the paper. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Torchy," he sings out. "You remember Ham Adams? Well, what do +you think he's gone and done now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Opened a correspondence school for valets?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Married!" says Mr. Robert. "A rich widow, too; a Mrs. Grenville +Hawks." +</P> + +<P> +"Zippo!" says I. "Then he's passed the buck back on Nivens." +</P> + +<P> +"I—er—I beg pardon?" says Mr. Robert. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," says I, "Nivens kind of thought an option on her went with +the place. He had Ham all counted out. But that spell of real work +must have done Ham a lot of good—must have qualified him to come back. +Believe me, too, he'll never be the same again." +</P> + +<P> +"That, at least, is cheering," says Mr. Robert. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WITH ELMER LEFT IN +</H3> + + +<P> +All I can say is that it was a busy day at the Corrugated. Course, I +might go into details, just as I might put mustard in my coffee, or +lock Piddie in the bond safe. Neither of them performances would be +quite so fruity as for me to give out particulars about this special +directors' meetin' that was goin' on. Speakin' by and large, though, +when you clean up better'n thirty per cent. on a semi-annual, you got +to do some dividend-jugglin', ain't you? And with them quiz committees +so thick, it's apt to be ticklish work. +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, Old Hickory has chewed up four brunette cigars the size of +young baseball bats, two of the Board have threatened to resign, and a +hurry call has just been sent out for our chief counsel to report, when +Mr. Robert glances annoyed towards the door. It's nobody but +fair-haired Vincent, that has my old place on the gate, and he's merely +peekin' in timid, tryin' to signal someone. +</P> + +<P> +"For heaven's sake, Torchy," says Mr. Robert, "see what that boys +wants. I've already waved him away twice. Of course, if it is +anything important—" +</P> + +<P> +"I get you," says I, passing over to him the tabulated reports I'd been +sittin' tight with. Then I slips out to where Vincent is waitin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Buildin' on fire?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, no, sir," says be, goin' bug-eyed. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says I. "Then who you got waitin' out there—Secretary Daniels +or the Czar of Russia?" +</P> + +<P> +Vincent pinks up like a geranium and smiles shy, like he always does +when he's kidded. "If you please, sir," says he, "it's only a lady; to +see Mr. Mason, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says I. "Lady trailin' old K. W. here, eh? Must be one of the +fam'ly." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh no, sir," says Vincent. "I'm quite sure it isn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Then shunt her, Vincent," says I. "For you can take it from me, K. W. +is in no mood to talk with stray females at the present writing. Shoo +her." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-e-e-es, sir," says he; "but—but I wish you would see her a moment +yourself, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"If it's as bad as that," says I, "I will." +</P> + +<P> +Pretty fair judgment Vincent has too, as a rule, even if he does look +like a mommer's boy. Course, he can't give agents and grafters the +quick back-up, like I used to. He side-tracks 'em so gentle, they go +away as satisfied as if they'd been invited in; and I don't know but +his method works just as well. It ain't often they put anything over +on him, either. +</P> + +<P> +So I'm surprised and grieved to see what's waitin' for one of our +plutiest directors outside the brass rail. In fact, I almost gasps. +Lady! More like one of the help from the laundry. The navy blue print +dress with the red polka dots was enough for one quick breath, just by +itself. How was that for an afternoon street costume to blow into the +Corrugated general offices with on a winter's day? True, she's wearin' +a gray sweater and what looked like a man's ulster over it; but there's +no disguisin' the fact that the droopy-brimmed black sailor was a last +summer's lid. Anyway, the whole combination seems to amuse the lady +typists. +</P> + +<P> +This party of the polka dots, though, don't seem to notice the stir +she's causin', or don't mind if she does. A slim, wiry young female +she is, well along in the twenties, I should say. What struck me most +about her was the tan on her face and hands and the way her hair was +faded in streaks. Sort of a general outdoor look she had, which is odd +enough to see on Broadway any time of year. +</P> + +<P> +"Was it you askin' for Mr. Mason?" says I, beginnin' to suspect that +Vincent had made a mistake, after all. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes indeed, suh," says she, sort of soft and slurry. "Ahm th' one. +You jess tell him Valentina Tozier's out hea-uh. He'll know." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, will he?" says I, a bit sarcastic. "Sorry, Valentina, but I +couldn't think of disturbin' Mr. Mason now. Maybe you don't know it, +but he's a mighty busy man." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, there!" says she. "Think of that!" +</P> + +<P> +Then I knew why it was Vincent had taken a chance on crashin' into a +directors' meetin'. He'd been hypnotized by Miss Tozier's smile. It +ain't any common open-faced movement, believe me. It's about the +friendliest, most natural heart-to-heart smile I ever got in range of. +And, somehow, it seems to come mostly from the eyes; a chummy, +confidential, trustin' smile that sparkles with good faith and good +nature, and kind of thrills you with the feelin' that you must be a lot +better'n you ever suspected. Honest, after one application I forgets +the queer rig she has on, the mud-colored hair, and the way her chest +slumps in. Whoever she might be and whatever she might want, I'm +strong for givin' her the helpin' hand. If I could have gone in and +led old K. W. out by the arm, I'd have done it. But you couldn't have +pulled him away from that Board scrap with a donkey-engine. He was +unloadin' a ten months' grouch against some of Old Hickory's pet +policies, Mr. Mason was, and he was enjoyin' himself huge, even if he +did know he was due to be steam-rollered when the vote was taken. +</P> + +<P> +"See here, Miss Tozier," says I, "it wouldn't do you a bit of good to +see Mr. Mason now. He's all lathered up and frothin' at the mouth. +But in an hour or so he'll be calmed down, maybe before. I tell you +what; you stroll out and take in the store windows for a spell and then +drift back later. Come up here if you like, or you can wait in the +arcade and nail him as he comes down the elevator." +</P> + +<P> +She thanks me real folksy, pats Vincent on the shoulder, and starts for +the corridor with a long, easy swing that some of these barefoot poem +dancers couldn't execute to save their necks. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says I to Vincent. "Put the spell on us, didn't she?" +</P> + +<P> +All through the rest of that messy session I'd glance now and then at +K. W. and wonder where and how he ever happened to meet up with +Valentina. I was meanin' to pass him the word how she was waitin' to +see him; but after he'd registered his big howl, and Old Hickory had +first smeared him and then soothed him down, he left so sudden that I +didn't have a chance. +</P> + +<P> +Besides, I was some rushed myself. There was a lot of odds and ends to +be tied up after the meetin', and two or three of them resolutions that +was jammed through called for quick action early next day. That's what +kept me and Piddie and Mr. Robert doin' so much overtime. About six +o'clock we had coffee and sandwiches sent in, and it must have been +well after seven before we locked the big safes and called it a day. +Piddie had already beat it to catch a late train to Jersey, so there +was only the two of us that dodged the scrubwomen on our way down to +the street. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Robert had a taxi waitin' to take him to the club, and I was +debatin' whether I needed a reg'lar dinner or not, when I gets a +glimpse of someone leanin' patient against a pillar opposite the main +elevator exit. +</P> + +<P> +"Sufferin' sisters!" says I. "Valentina!" +</P> + +<P> +"I beg pardon?" says Mr. Robert. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," says I, "help me put a smilin' party on the track of K. W. +Mason, will you? Here she is." +</P> + +<P> +I expect Mr. Robert would have ducked if he could, after one view of +the polka-dot dress and the rusty straw lid; but there was Valentina +comin' straight at us. +</P> + +<P> +"For the love of Mike!" says I. "You ain't been waitin' all this time, +have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Right hea-uh," says she. "Ah reckon Ah done missed him." +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says I, "Mr. Mason left hours ago. Must be something important +you want to see him about, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah don't know as it is," says she; "only Ah promised, ef ever Ah got +to Noo Yawk, Ah'd look him up. He made me. And Ah sure would like to +see Warrie mahself." +</P> + +<P> +"Warrie!" says I. "Oh, gosh! Why, you mean young Mr. Mason—Warren, +don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +She nods. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, say, that's too bad," says I. "My fault, though. But I never +thought of Warrie as the one. Why, he hasn't been with the Corrugated +for over a year now." +</P> + +<P> +I might have added that we'd had hard work missin' him at any time. +Not that he wasn't all right in his way, but—well, it was just a case +of bein' more ornamental than useful. A bit thick in the head, Warrie. +But it was a stunnin' head—reg'lar Apollonaris Belvidere. He had wavy +brown hair, and big, peaceful brown eyes. Stood a little over six feet +too, and they say that when it came to ridin' a spotted pony and +swingin' a polo mallet he was all there. But in the bond department he +was just under foot. +</P> + +<P> +So, when he develops rheumatism in one shoulder and a specialist orders +him South, it wasn't any serious jolt to the business world. And when +he finally shows up again it didn't take much urgin' from Mr. Robert to +induce him to pass up his financial career for good. He was engaged to +be married anyway, and that should have been enough to occupy his mind. +</P> + +<P> +Where he'd run across Valentina was the big puzzle, and the easiest way +to solve it was to ask her. Which I does. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, at Sand Spur Point," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Sounds cute," says I. "Is it on the map?"' +</P> + +<P> +"It's on mine," says Valentina. +</P> + +<P> +"Sand Spur, did you say?" puts in Mr. Robert. "Isn't that the place he +discovered when he was sent South to bake out his shoulder? Florida, +isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"West coast," says Valentina. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," says Mr. Robert. "He talked a lot about it. Seemed to +have grown rather fond of the people there." +</P> + +<P> +"We all thought a heap of Warrie," says Miss Tozier, lettin' loose that +mesmerizin' smile of hers. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Robert gets the full force of it, for he'd been lookin' her over +sort of curious; and blamed if he don't fall for it 'most as hard as me +and Vincent. +</P> + +<P> +"By George!" says he. "I'm sure Warrie would feel badly if he missed +seeing anyone from Sand Spur. You must let me know where you're +stopping. I'll send him word." +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't do a bit of good in the world," says Valentina, "for Ah'm not +stopping anywhere. You see, Ah come up with pop on a lumber-schooner, +and we'll be headed out past Sandy Hook by sunrise." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't we locate Warrie to-night some way?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Robert shrugs his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"We can," says he. "I happen to know where he is at this moment." Then +he whispers, "Dining at the Tarleton; Miss Prentice is with him." +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Maybe you've seen pictures of this young society queen that's annexed +Warrie? I had. That's why I took such a long breath before askin', +"Would you take a chance?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says Mr. Robert. +</P> + +<P> +Then, as the idea strikes in, he develops that eye twinkle. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," he goes on, "I see no serious objection. Surely she might spare +him for five minutes. Yes, of course. You may have my taxi if you'll +drop me at the club first. Let's do it." +</P> + +<P> +So that's how I come to be interviewin' a chesty head waiter at the +Tarleton twenty minutes later. From where I stood I could see Warrie +Mason well enough, but I has to write out a message and have it taken +in. Him and Miss Prentice are havin' dinner all by themselves, and +they sure make a swell-lookin' pair. Warrie he looks classy in +anything, but in evenin' clothes he's a reg'lar young grand duke; while +Miss Prentice—well, she's one of these soft, pouty-lipped, droopy-eyed +charmers, the kind you see bein' crushed against some manly shirt bosom +on the magazine covers. I watches her nod careless as Warrie explains +what's in the note, and the next minute he's out givin' me the cordial +hail. +</P> + +<P> +"What!" says he. "A friend from Sand Spur? By Jove! It—it can't be +Valentina, can it?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's the one," says I. "Goin' back early in the mornin' too, so I +didn't know but you might like to step out and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Step out nothing!" says he. "Bring her in. There's only Gladys, and +we're just starting dinner. I want you both to join us." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha-a-at?" I gasps. "Lug Valentina—in there!" +</P> + +<P> +"Most certainly," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"But see here, you big boob," says I, "have you got any idea how she's +costumed?" +</P> + +<P> +He laughs. "Let's see," he goes on, "it ought to be a dark blue print +with red polka dots. That used to be her Sunday dress." +</P> + +<P> +"You win," says I. "The styles in Sand Spur ain't changed any. But +this is Fifth Avenue, remember." +</P> + +<P> +"Torchy," says he, droppin' one of his big paws on my shoulder, "what I +shall always remember about Valentina Tozier is this: that when she +picked me up out on the Gulf I was in a bad way. I'd been rolling +around in a rummy old motor-boat for hours and hours, with a stalled +engine, and a norther howling down the coast. Came sailing out in a +crazy catboat, Valentina did, and towed me in. She knew nothing about +who I was, mind you, but that made no difference to her or Pop Tozier. +From then on there wasn't anything in Sand Spur too good for me. And +now—but where is she?" +</P> + +<P> +Honest, in all I'd seen of him at the Corrugated, I'd never known +Warrie Mason to act so much like a live one. There was no stopping +him. Before I could register any more protests, he'd hauled Valentina +out of the cab, taken her by the arm, and was steerin' her slam into +the middle of the Tarleton's Looie Cans dinin'-room. The haughty head +waiter lets out one gasp and steadies himself against a marble pillar. +As for Miss Prentice, she takes one look at what Warrie is towin' in, +and goes pink in the ears. Then she stiffens, from the jaws down. +</P> + +<P> +But Warrie don't seem to be wise to the fact that he's pullin' anything +odd. He acts just as natural as if he'd picked up one of the younger +set. +</P> + +<P> +"Gladys," says he, "this is Valentina Tozier, that I've told you so +much about. Valentina, I want you to know Miss Prentice." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" says Gladys, a bit choky and archin' her eyebrows sarcastic. +"I—I recall the name." +</P> + +<P> +You'd 'most thought Valentina would have been fussed to flinders about +then; but, beyond actin' a little dazed, she don't show it. She lets a +couple of French waiters peel off the faded ulster and the gray +sweater, and, believe me, when the whole of that polka-dot costume is +revealed she's some conspicuous. For a second it looked like Gladys +was goin' to freeze with horror; but, after givin' Valentina the +once-over, she just lifts her shoulders a trifle and indulges in a +panicky little giggle. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-080"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-080.jpg" ALT="For a second it looked like Gladys was goin' to freeze with horror." BORDER="2" WIDTH="384" HEIGHT="616"> +<H4> +[Illustration: For a second it looked like Gladys was goin' to freeze +with horror;<BR>but she just gives Valentina the once-over and indulges in +a panicky little giggle.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Of the two of 'em, I will say that Valentina takes it easier, for that +dinner dress of Miss Prentice's must have jarred her some. But +Valentina only stares for a minute, and then manages to work up one of +them friendly smiles. +</P> + +<P> +Warrie don't get any of this by-play at all. Soon as he's through +shootin' orders to the waiter, he turns to Valentina. "Well, well!" +says he enthusiastic. "This is a treat. Did you come up by train or +steamer?" +</P> + +<P> +"Schooner," says Valentina. "You know all that cypress you saw 'em +yankin' out of the swamp back of the Point? Well, suh, it's lumber +now, every stick. Sold, too. That's what me and pop came up for." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't say!" says Warrie. "How much?" +</P> + +<P> +"Near nine thousand," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Whe-e-e-ew!" says Warrie. "Now I suppose you'll be moving into Tampa." +</P> + +<P> +"No," says Valentina; "we're fixin' to buy another swamp." +</P> + +<P> +Then they both laughed, like it was some huge joke. +</P> + +<P> +"But how is everyone?" goes on Warrie. "Uncle Jake still going out +after stone-crabs?" +</P> + +<P> +"Every mornin'," says Valentina. "And they're runnin' fine this +winter, too. He put near a bushel on the schooner before we sailed. +We had 'em all the way up." +</P> + +<P> +"M-m-m-m!" says Warrie, smackin' his lips. "Remember the ones we +roasted that day?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed I do," says she. "You didn't want to try 'em at first." +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't I all kinds of a chump, though?" says he. "And that first +chicken pillau you made! Say! +</P> + +<P> +"You know," says Warrie, turnin' to Gladys, "it was Valentina who +actually knocked out that rheumatism of mine. Did it with Green +Springs water and fresh limes. Awful dose! But inside of two weeks +she had me rowing a boat." +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" says Gladys, smotherin' a yawn. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you believe him, Miz Prentice," protests Valentina. "It was +just livin' a month in Sand Spur. That would cure anyone of anything." +</P> + +<P> +"Sand Spur!" echoes Gladys. "It must be a wonderful place." +</P> + +<P> +Valentina and Warrie swaps grins. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a dozen shacks strung along two snaky wagon ruts through the +sand," says Valentina, "a few pines and live-oaks, a whole heap of +razor-backs, and us Crackers dodgin' between. That's Sand Spur." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, a little more than that," breaks in Warrie. "You forget the roses +and the yellow jasmine climbing over the shacks, the Spanish moss +festooning the oaks, the mocking-birds singing from every tree-top, the +black cypress behind the pines, and out front the jade-green Gulf where +the sun goes down so glorious. You forget the brilliant mornings and +the wonderful soft moonlight nights." +</P> + +<P> +Well, that's the way them two went on, like a couple of kids talkin' +over a summer vacation. I gathered that Warrie had simply quit the +sanatorium where he'd been played for a good thing, and settled down in +Sand Spur with the Toziers; gettin' fat on the weird dishes Valentina +could cook, and havin' the time of his life. Seems as if he'd made +friends with the whole population, for he had to ask about all of 'em +by their front names. +</P> + +<P> +Listenin' to 'em was sort of interestin' to me, but Miss Prentice don't +conceal the fact that she's bored stiff. Meanwhile we was wadin' +through a first-class feed. And about nine o'clock Valentina announces +that she'll have to be gettin' back to the schooner or pop'll be +worried. Warrie says he'll send her down in a cab, and asks me if I'll +go along to see that she gets there safe, which I says I will. She was +bein' helped into the ulster when Warrie remembers someone else in Sand +Spur. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, by the way," says he; "what about Elmer?" +</P> + +<P> +Valentina laughs easy. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he's the same Elmer," says she. "He's still foreman out at the +swamp." +</P> + +<P> +"Comes over every Sunday night as usual, eh?" asks Warrie. +</P> + +<P> +She nods. "Wednesdays now, too," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Then," says Warrie, "you and Elmer are to—er—" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah reckon," says Valentina. "Sometime this spring." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" says Warrie. Then, as kind of an afterthought, he holds +out his hand. "My best wishes for you both," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," says Valentina, and gives him about half a smile. Next she +glances towards Gladys. "Say," she goes on, "is—is she the one?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says Warrie. +</P> + +<P> +"Same to you," says Valentina. "Good-by." +</P> + +<P> +They shook hands once more—sort of a long, lingerin' shake, with their +eyes steady to each other; and then—well, then I steers Valentina out +past the grinnin' cloak-room boys and stows her in the taxi. She +didn't have much to say on the way down. Nor I. And, take it from me, +it's some ride from the Tarleton down to Pier 9, East River. +</P> + +<P> +First thing next morning Mr. Robert wants to know how the reunion +passed off, and he listens bug-eyed as I describes the way we rung in +on the dinner-party with Gladys. +</P> + +<P> +"The deuce you did!" says he. "Just like Warrie to do that, though. +But, if I know Miss Prentice at all, she will pay him back for that +little prank." +</P> + +<P> +"Now you've said something!" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"And Valentina," he adds reflectively, "is on her way back to Sand +Spur, is she?" +</P> + +<P> +"I expect that's where she belongs," says I; "and yet—" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, yet what?" demands Mr. Robert, sort of quizzin'. +</P> + +<P> +"I was only thinkin'," says I, "that if the cards could have been +shuffled different, with Gladys startin' in Sand Spur and Valentina on +the Avenue, Warrie might not have so many yawns comin' to him across +the dinner-table. But then, maybe Elmer of the Swamp deserves some +lucky breaks. Who knows?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A BALANCE FOR THE BOSS +</H3> + + +<P> +You see, I was openin' the mornin' mail. Hope you get that part. Not +that I want to seem chesty over it. Just goes to show, that's all. +For, of the whole force here at the General offices, there's just three +of us can carve up the mornin' mail without gettin' fired for it. And +the other two are Old Hickory and Mr. Robert. +</P> + +<P> +H-m-m-m! Business of lookin' important. That's what it is to be a +private sec. But, between you and me, this slicin' and sortin' +envelopes ain't such thrillin' work; mostly routine stuff—reports of +department heads, daily statements from brokers, and so on. Now and +then, though, you run across something rich. This was one of the times. +</P> + +<P> +I was 'most through the pile when I comes to this pale pink affair with +a heavy wax seal on the back. Perfumed, too, like lilacs. First off I +thought it must be private, and I held the letter stabber in the air +while I took a closer look. No. It's addressed just to the Corrugated +Trust. So rip she goes. After I'd read it through twice I grins and +puts it one side. When Mr. Robert blows in I hands the pink one to him +first. +</P> + +<P> +"We're discovered," says I. "Here's someone that hints polite how +we're a bunch of strong-arms organized to rob the widow and orphan of +their daily bread." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Robert takes one sniff, then holds it at arm's length while he runs +it through. Gets a chuckle out of him, too. +</P> + +<P> +"It's rather evident," says he, "that Mrs. Theodore Bayly Bagstock +doesn't approve of us at all—though just why is not quite clear." +</P> + +<P> +"That's easy," says I. "This Inter-Lake Navigation that she's beefin' +about was one of them little concerns we gathered in last fall. Paid +something like fourteen, and our common at three and a half don't seem +so good to her, I expect. Still, she got a double on her holdings by +the deal, and with the melon we're goin' to cut next month—" +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose, Torchy," breaks in Mr. Robert, tossing back the letter, "you +answer the lady in your own direct and lucid way. You might suggest +that we are neither highwaymen nor the Associated Charities, using any +little whim of sarcasm that occurs to you." +</P> + +<P> +I'd just thought out a real snappy come-back too, and was dictatin' it +to a stenographer, when Old Hickory happens to drift by with his ear +out. He stops short. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold on," says he. "What Mrs. Bagstock is that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, the peevish one, I expect, sir," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's see that letter," says he. +</P> + +<P> +I passes it over. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" he goes on, rubbin' his chin reminiscent. "I wonder if that +could be—er—young man, I think I'll answer this myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, very well, sir," says I, shruggin' my shoulders careless. +</P> + +<P> +Must have been half an hour later when Old Hickory calls me into the +private office, and I finds him still gazin' at the scented note. +</P> + +<P> +"Torchy," says he, glancin' keen at me from Tinder his bushy eyebrows, +"this Mrs. Bagstock seems to think we are using her badly. As a matter +of fact, those Inter-Lake shareholders were lucky. We might have +frozen them out altogether. You understand, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +I nods. +</P> + +<P> +"But I can't put that in a letter," he goes on. "It could be explained +in a personal interview, however." +</P> + +<P> +"I get you," says I. "I'll 'phone for her to come around." +</P> + +<P> +"No!" he roars. "You'll do nothing of the sort. What the rhythmic +rhomboids put that into your head? I don't want to see the woman. +I'll not see her, not on any pretext. Understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think so," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Then get your hat," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," says I, edging out. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a moment," says Old Hickory. "You are to explain to Mrs. +Bagstock fully: assure her that in the long run she will not be the +loser, and so on. As courteously as you know how. And—er—if in the +course of the interview you should happen to learn her given +name—er—just remember it." +</P> + +<P> +"Such as Ella May or Josephine?" +</P> + +<P> +"No!" he snaps. "Natalie. Now clear out." +</P> + +<P> +Ain't he the foxy old pirate, though? Sendin' me off on a sleuthin' +expedition without givin' up a hint as to what it's all about! Was it +some back-number romance that this lilac-dipped note had reminded him +of? More likely there'd been some Bagstock or other who'd +double-crossed him in a deal and he'd never found a chance to get +square. Anyway, he's after a confidential report, so off I pikes. +</P> + +<P> +My troubles began right at the start. I had to hunt the address up on +a city map, and when I'd located it on the lower West Side, down in the +warehouse district, I'm sure of one thing—this Mrs. Bagstock can't be +such-a-much. If I had any doubts they was knocked out by the sign hung +alongside the front door—"Furnished Rooms." +</P> + +<P> +I expect it had been quite a decent old house in its day—one of these +full-width brick affairs, with fancy iron grill-work on either side of +the brownstone steps and a fan-light over the door. There was even an +old-fashioned bell-pull that was almost equal to a wall exerciser for +workin' up your muscle. I was still pumpin' away energetic, not +hearin' any results inside, when the door is jerked open, and a perky +young female with the upper part of her face framed in kid curlers and +a baby-blue boudoir cap glares at me unpleasant. +</P> + +<P> +"Humph!" says she. "Tryin' to play 'Rag-Time Temple Bells,' are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then I did register a tinkle, did I?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Tinkle! More like a riot call," says she. "Want to look at rooms?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not exactly," says I. "You see, I'm representin'—" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you?" she crashes in crisp. "Well, say, you fresh agents are +goin' to overwork this comedy cut-up act with our bell one of these +times. Go on. Shoot it. What you want to wish on us—instalment +player-piano, electric dish-washer, magazine subscriptions, or—" +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me," I cuts in, producin' the letter; "but, while you're a +grand little guesser, your start is all wrong. I came to see Mrs. +Bagstock about this. Lives here, don't she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Auntie?" says the young party in the boudoir cap. "Then I guess +you can come in. Now, lemme see. What's this all about? H-m-m-m! +Stocks, eh? Just a jiffy while I go through this." +</P> + +<P> +Durin' which I've been shooed into the parlor. Some parlor it is, too. +I don't know when I've seen a room that came so near whinin' about +better days gone by. Every piece of furniture, from the threadbare +sofa to the rickety center table, seems kind of sad and sobby. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing old-timey about this young female that's studyin' out Mrs. +Bagstock's letter. Barrin' the floppy cap, she's costumed zippy enough +in what I should judge was a last fall's tango dress. As she reads she +yanks gum industrious. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," she breaks out, "this is all Dutch to me. Who's bein' called +down, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"We are," says I. "The Corrugated Trust. I'm private sec. there. +I've come around to show Mrs. Bagstock where she's sized us up wrong, +and if I could have five minutes' talk with her—" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you can't, that's all," says the young lady. "So speed up and +tell it to me." +</P> + +<P> +Course, I wasn't doin' that. We holds quite a debate on the subject +without my scorin' any points at all. She tells me how she's a niece +by marriage of Mrs. Bagstock, and the unregrettin' widow of the late +Dick McCloud, who up to a year ago was the only survivin' relative of +his dear aunt. +</P> + +<P> +"And he wasn't much good at that, if I do say it," announces Tessie, +snappin' her black eyes. "I don't deny he had me buffaloed for a while +there, throwin' the bull about his rich aunt that was goin' to leave +him a fortune. Huh! This is the fortune—this old furnished-room +joint that's mortgaged up to the eaves and ain't had a roomer in three +months. Hot fortune, ain't it? And here I am stranded with a batty +old dame, two blocks below Christopher." +</P> + +<P> +"Waitin' to inherit?" I asks innocent. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" says Tessie. "I stood for Dick McCloud 'most three years. +That ought to call for some pension, hadn't it? I don't mind sayin', +too, it ain't one long May-day festival, this bein' buried alive with +Aunt Nutty." +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin' Mrs. Bagstock?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +She nods. "One of Dick's little cracks," says she. "Her real name is +Natalie." +</P> + +<P> +I expect my ears did a reg'lar rabbit motion at that. So this was the +one? Well, I'd got to have a look at her! +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I. "Did you say Natalie?" +</P> + +<P> +"Aunt Nutty's a better fit, though," says Tessie. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, come!" says I. "She don't write so batty. And anybody who can +notice the difference between fourteen per cent. dividends and three +and a half ain't so far gone." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you never could work off any wooden money on her," admits Tessie. +"Her grip on a dollar is sump'n fierce; that is, until it comes to +settin' the stage for one of her third Wednesdays." +</P> + +<P> +"Her which?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"If it was anything I could cover up," says Tessie, "you bet I'd deny +it. But anybody on the block could put you wise. So, if you must +know, every third Wednesday Aunt Nutty goes through the motions of +pullin' off a pink tea. Uh-huh! It's all complete: the big silver urn +polished up and steaming sandwiches and cakes made, flowers about, us +all dolled up—and nobody to it! Oh, it's a scream!" +</P> + +<P> +"But don't anyone come?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly," says Tessie, "unless you count Mrs. Fizzenmeyer, the +delicatessen lady; or Madame Tebeau, the little hairdresser; or the +Schmitt girls, from the corner bakery. They pretend to take Auntie +almost as serious as she takes herself. Lately, though, even that +bunch has stopped. You can't blame 'em. It may be funny for once or +twice. After that—well, it begins to get ghastly. Specially with the +old girl askin' me continual to watch out the window and see if the Van +Pyles haven't driven up yet, or the Rollinses, or the Pitt-Smiths. If +that ain't nutty, now what is?" +</P> + +<P> +"The third Wednesday, eh?" says I. "That's to-morrow, ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," says Tessie. "Which is why you can't see her to-day. She's in +trainin' for the big event—y'understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"But I'd like to set her mind easy on this stock proposition," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Wish you could," says Tessie. "She's been stewin' a lot over +something or other. Must be that. And I could take you up to her if +you was on the list." +</P> + +<P> +"What list?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Her doctor, her solicitor, her banker," says Tessie, checkin' 'em off +on her fingers. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," says I, "couldn't I ring in as one of her bankers? Then I could +get this off my chest and not have to come again." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll put it up to her," says Tessie. "Got a business card on you?" +</P> + +<P> +I had, an engraved one. Maybe that's what did the trick, for Tessie +comes back smilin'. +</P> + +<P> +"But it'll take me half an hour or so to fix her up," says she. "She's +dreadful fussy about her looks." +</P> + +<P> +"I got all day," says I. +</P> + +<P> +But at that it seemed like I'd been shut up in that sobby parlor for a +month when Tessie finally gives me the word. "Come along," says she. +"And don't forget to make a noise like a banker." +</P> + +<P> +Say, after I'd been led up to this faded old relic that's bolstered +with pillows in the armchair by the window, and listened to her wavery, +cracked voice, I couldn't see anything funny in it at all. +</P> + +<P> +It's a vague, batty sort of talk we had. Mostly it's a monologue by +her. +</P> + +<P> +"I am quite annoyed," says she, tappin' the chair arm with her thin, +blue-white finger-nails. "My income, you know. It must not be reduced +in this way. You must attend to it at once. Those Inter-Lake +securities. I've depended on those. Mr. Bagstock gave them to me on +our fifth wedding anniversary. Of course, I am not a business woman. +One can't neglect one's social career. But I have always tried to look +after my own securities. My father taught me to do that when I was a +mere girl. So I wrote about my Inter-Lake Navigation shares. Why +should your firm interfere? You say in a few months they will pay as +well. But meanwhile? You see, there are my Wednesdays. I can't give +them up. What would people say? For years that has been my day. No, +no, young man, you must find a way. Tell your firm that I simply must +keep up my Wednesdays." +</P> + +<P> +And, as she stops for breath, it's about the first chance I've had to +spring anything on her. Old Hickory hadn't told me not to use his +name, and was I to blame if he'd overlooked that point? +</P> + +<P> +"Yes'm," says I; "I'll tell Mr. Ellins." +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" says she, steadyin' her wanderin' gaze. "Mr. Ellins?" +</P> + +<P> +"Old Hickory," says I. "He's president of the Corrugated Trust, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +"Really!" says she. "How odd! I—I used to know a young man of that +name—a pushing, presuming, impudent fellow. In fact, he had the +audacity to call on me several times. He was quite impossible +socially; uncouth, awkward, rough spoken. A mere clerk, I believe. +And I—well, I was rather a belle that season, I suppose. At least, I +did not lack suitors. A brilliant season it was for me too, my first. +Our dinners, receptions, dances, were affairs of importance. How this +raw Middle-Westerner came to be invited I've forgotten. Through my +father, I presume. I had hardly noticed him among so many. At least, +I am sure I never gave him an excuse for thinking that he could— Oh, +it was outrageous. I had been trying to dance with him and had given +it up. We were in the little conservatory, watching the others, +when—well, I found myself in his arms, crushed there. He—he was +kissing me violently. I suppose I must have screamed before I fainted. +Anyway, there was a scene. He was given his hat and coat, shown the +door. Father was in a rage. Of course, after that he was ostracized. +I never saw him again, never forgave him. And now— Do you think this +can be the same Mr. Ellins? He sent you to me, did he not? Did he +mention anything about—" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a word except business," says I. "And I must say that performance +don't sound much like the boss." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" says the old girl, sighin' relieved. "I am glad to hear you say +so. I should not care to have any dealings with him." +</P> + +<P> +She was back in the '70's again, tryin' to look haughty and indignant. +Next minute she was protestin' about her income and announcin' that she +must keep up her Wednesdays. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes'm," says I, backin' out; "I'll tell him." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" says Tessie, as we gets back to the parlor, "Ain't that some +bug-house proposition? Got an ear-full, didn't you? And to-morrow +we'll— There's that fool bell again. Oh, it's the doctor. I'll have +to take him up. So long." +</P> + +<P> +She let the young doctor in as she let me out. I was half way down the +block, too, when I turns and walks back. I waits in the tin runabout +until the pill distributer comes out. +</P> + +<P> +"What about the old lady in there?" says I. "Kind of wabbly, ain't +she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, she may last a month more," says he. "Wonderful vitality. And +then again—oh, any time; like that!" and he snaps his fingers. +</P> + +<P> +Maybe I didn't have some details to give Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a case of better days," says I. "Must have been some society +queen and she's never got over the habit. Still playin' the game." +</P> + +<P> +Then I describes the guestless teas she has. But never a smile out of +Old Hickory. He listens grim without interruptin'. +</P> + +<P> +"But what about her first name?" he asks at last. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, sure," says I. "Didn't I mention that? Natalie. And I expect +she was some stunner. She's near the finish now, though. Shouldn't +wonder but to-morrow might be her last third Wednesday." +</P> + +<P> +"Who says so?" demands Mr. Ellins savage. +</P> + +<P> +"Her doctor," says I. +</P> + +<P> +With that, Old Hickory bangs his fist on the desk. +</P> + +<P> +"Then, by the Lord Harry," says he, "I'd like to make it a good one." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I, gawpin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Young man," says he, "I don't know whether you have had fool luck or +have been particularly clever, but thus far you have handled this +affair for me like a diplomat. Now I'm going to ask you to do +something more. I don't care to hear another word about Mrs. Bagstock, +not a whisper, but—er—here's a check for two hundred dollars. No, +I'll make it five. Just take that and see that her silly tea to-morrow +is a bang-up affair, with plenty of real guests." +</P> + +<P> +I gasps. +</P> + +<P> +"But, I say, Mr. Ellins," I begins, "how do I—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't ask me how, young man," he snaps. "What do I know about +tea-parties? Do as I tell you." +</P> + +<P> +Say, that's some unique order to shoot at a private sec., ain't it? +</P> + +<P> +And did I make good? Listen. Before nine o'clock that night I had the +thing all plotted out and half a dozen people gettin' busy. Course, +it's mostly Vee's program. She claps her hands when she hears the tale. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Torchy!" says she. "Isn't that just splendid! Certainly we can +do it." +</P> + +<P> +And when Vee gets enthusiastic over anything it ain't any flash in the +pan. It's apt to be done, and done right. She tells me what to do +right off the reel. And you should have seen me blowin' that five +hundred like a drunken sailor. I charters a five-piece orchestra, +gives a rush order to a decorator, and engages a swell caterer, warnin' +Tessie by wire what to expect. Vee tackled the telephone work, and +with her aunt's help dug up about a dozen old families that remembered +the Bagstocks. How they hypnotized so many old dames to take a trip +'way downtown I don't know; but after Mrs. Tessie McCloud had watched +the fourth limousine unload from two to three classy-lookin' guests, +she near swallowed her gum. +</P> + +<P> +"Muh Gawd!" says she. "Am I seein' things, or is it true?" +</P> + +<P> +Not only dames, but a sprinklin' of old sports in spats and frock-coats +and with waxed white mustaches was rounded up; and, with five or six +debutantes Vee had got hold of, it's some crusty push. +</P> + +<P> +First off Mrs. Bagstock had been so limp and unsteady on her pins that +she'd started in by receivin' 'em propped up in a big chair. But by +the time the old parlor got half full and the society chatter cuts +loose she seems to buck up a lot. +</P> + +<P> +Next thing I knew, she was standin' as straight as a Fifth Avenue +doorman, her wrinkled old chin well up and her eyes shinin'. Honest, +she was just eatin' it up. Looked the part, too. A bit out of date as +to costume, maybe; but with her white hair piled up high and the +diamond-set combs in it, and a cameo as big as a door-knob at her +throat, and with that grand-duchess air of hers, hanged if she don't +carry it off great. Why, I heard her gossipin' with old Madam Van Pyle +as chummy and easy as if it had been only last week since they'd seen +each other, instead of near twenty years ago. +</P> + +<P> +Havin' to pay off some of the help, I had to stick around until it was +all over. So I was there when she staggers towards Tessie and leans +heavy on her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"They—they've all gone, haven't they?" she asks. "I—I'm so tired +and—and so happy! It has been the most successful Wednesday I've had +for some time, hasn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Has it?" says Tessie. "Why, Auntie, this was a knockout, one of the +kind you read about. Honest, even when I was fittin' corsets for the +carriage trade, I never got so close to such a spiffy bunch. But we +had the goods to hand 'em—caviar sandwiches, rum for the tea, fizz in +the punch. Believe me, the Astors ain't got anything on us now." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Bagstock don't seem to be listenin'. She's just gazin' around +smilin' vague. +</P> + +<P> +"Music, wasn't there?" she goes on. "I had really forgotten having +ordered an orchestra. And such lovely roses! Let me take one more +look at the dear old drawing-room. Yes, it was a success, I'm sure. +Now you may ring for my maid. I—I think I will retire." +</P> + +<P> +As they brushed past me on their way to the stairs I took a chance on +whisperin' to Tessie. +</P> + +<P> +"Hadn't you better ring up the doc?" I suggests. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe I had," says she. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps she did, too. I expect it didn't matter much. Only I was +peeved at that boob society editor, after all the trouble I took to get +the story shaped up by one of my newspaper friends and handed in early, +to have it held over for the Sunday edition. That's how it happens the +paper I takes in to Mr. Ellins Monday mornin' has these two items on +the same page—I'd marked 'em both. One was a flossy account of Mrs. +Theodore Bayly Bagstock's third Wednesday; the other was six lines in +the obituary column. Old Hickory reads 'em, and then sits for a +minute, gazin' over the top of his desk at nothing at all. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor Natalie!" says be, after a while. "So that was her last." +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody ever finished any happier, though," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Hah!" says he. "Then perhaps that balances the account." +</P> + +<P> +Saying which, he clips the end off of a fat black perfecto, lights up, +and tackles the mornin' mail. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TORCHY FOLLOWS A HUNCH +</H3> + + +<P> +It was a case of local thunderstorms on the seventeenth floor of the +Corrugated Trust Building. To state it simpler, Old Hickory was +runnin' a neck temperature of 210 or so, and there was no tellin' what +minute he might fuse a collar-button or blow out a cylinder-head. +</P> + +<P> +The trouble seemed to be that one of his pet schemes was in danger of +being ditched. Some kind of an electric power distributin' stunt it +is, one that he'd doped out durin' a Western trip last summer; just a +little by-play with a few hundred square miles of real estate, +includin' the buildin' of twenty or thirty miles of trolley and +plantin' a few factories here and there. +</P> + +<P> +But now here's Ballinger, our Western manager, in on the carpet, tryin' +to explain why it can't be done. He's been at it for two hours, helped +out by a big consultin' engineer and the chief attorney of our Chicago +branch. They've waved blue-print maps, submitted reports of experts, +and put in all kinds of evidence to show that the scheme has either got +to be revised radical or else chucked. +</P> + +<P> +"Very sorry, Mr. Ellins," says Ballinger, "but we have done our best." +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" snaps Old Hickory. "It's all waste land, isn't it? Of course +he'll sell. Who is he, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"His name," says Ballinger, pawin' over some letters, "is T. Waldo +Pettigrew. Lives in New York, I believe; at least, his attorneys are +here. And this is all we have been able to get out of them—a flat +no." And he slides an envelope across the mahogany table. +</P> + +<P> +"But what's his reason?" demands Old Hickory. "Why? That's what I +want to know." +</P> + +<P> +Ballinger shrugs his shoulders. "I don't pretend," says he, "to +understand the average New Yorker." +</P> + +<P> +"Hah!" snorts Mr. Ellins. "Once more that old alibi of the +limber-spined; that hoary fiction of the ten-cent magazine and the +two-dollar drama. Average New Yorker! Listen, Ballinger. There's no +such thing. We're just as different, and just as much alike, as +anybody else. In other words, we're human. And this Pettigrew person +you seem to think such a mysterious and peculiar individual—well, what +about him? Who and what is he?" +</P> + +<P> +"According to the deeds," says Ballinger, "he is the son of Thomas J. +and Mary Ann Pettigrew, both deceased. His attorneys are Mott, Drew & +Mott. They write that their client absolutely refuses to sell any land +anywhere. They have written that three times. They have declined to +discuss any proposition. And there you are." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean," sneers Old Hickory, "that there you are." +</P> + +<P> +"If you can suggest anything further," begins Ballinger, "we shall be +glad to—" +</P> + +<P> +"I know," breaks in Old Hickory, "you'd be glad to fritter away another +six months and let those International Power people jump in ahead of +us. No, thanks. I mean to see if I can't get a little action now. +Robert, who have we out there in the office who's not especially busy? +Oh, yes, Torchy. I say, young man! You—Torchy!" +</P> + +<P> +"Calling me, sir?" says I, slidin' out of my chair and into the next +room prompt. +</P> + +<P> +Old Hickory nods. +</P> + +<P> +"Find that man Pettigrew," says he, tossin' over the letter. "He owns +some land we need. There's a map of it, also a memorandum of what +we're willing to pay. Report to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," says I. "Want me to close the deal by noon?" +</P> + +<P> +Maybe they didn't catch the flicker under them bushy eyebrows. But I +did, and I knew he was goin' to back my bluff. +</P> + +<P> +"Any time before five will do," says he. "Wait! You'd better take a +check with you." +</P> + +<P> +If we was lookin' to get any gasps out of that bunch, we had another +guess comin'. They knew Old Hickory's fondness for tradin' on his +reputation, and that he didn't always pull it off. The engineer humps +his eyebrows sarcastic, while Ballinger and the lawyer swaps a quiet +smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Then perhaps we had best stay over and take the deeds back with us," +says Ballinger. +</P> + +<P> +"Do," snaps Old Hickory. "You can improve the time hunting for your +average New Yorker. Here you are, Torchy." +</P> + +<P> +Say, he's a game old sport, Mr. Ellins. He plays a hundred-to-one shot +like he was puttin' money on a favorite. And he waves me on my way +with never a wink of them keen eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" thinks I. "Billed for a masked marvel act, ain't I? Well, that +bein' the case, this is where I get next to Pettigrew or tear something +loose." +</P> + +<P> +Didn't need any seventh-son work to locate him. The 'phone book shows +he lives on Madison Avenue. Seemed simple enough. But this was no +time to risk bein' barred out by a cold-eyed butler. You can't breeze +into them old brownstone fronts on your nerve. What I needed was +credentials. The last place I'd be likely to get 'em would be Mott, +Drew & Mott's, so I goes there first. No, I didn't hypnotize anybody. +I simply wrote out an application for a job on the firm's stationery, +and as they was generous with it I dashes off another note which I +tucks in my pocket. Nothing sleuthy required. Why, say, I could have +walked out with the letter file and the safe combination if I'd wanted +to. +</P> + +<P> +So when I rings the bell up at Mr. Pettigrew's I has something besides +hot air to shove at Perkins. He qualifies in the old fam'ly servant +class right off, for as soon as he lamps the name printed on the +envelope corner he swings the door wide open, and inside of two minutes +I'm bein' announced impressive in the library at the back: "From your +attorneys, sir." Which as far as it goes is showin' some speed, eh? +</P> + +<P> +Yea-uh! That's the way I felt about it. All I asked was to be put +next to this Pettigrew party. Not that I had any special spell to work +off on him; but, as Old Hickory said, he must be human, and if he was, +why— Well, about then I begun to get the full effect of this weird, +double-barreled stare. +</P> + +<P> +Now, I don't mind takin' the once-over from a single pair of +shell-rimmed goggles; but to find yourself bein' inspected through two +sets of barn windows—honest, it seemed like the room was full of +spectacles. I glanced hasty from one to the other of these +solemn-lookin' parties ranged behind the book barricade, and then takes +a chance that the one with the sharp nose and the dust-colored hair is +T. Waldo. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Pettigrew?" says I, smilin' friendly and winnin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," says he, a bit pettish. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," says I, turnin' to the broken-nosed one with the wavy black +pompadour effect. "Of course." +</P> + +<P> +He's some younger than the other, in the late twenties, I should judge, +and has sort of a stern, haughty stare. +</P> + +<P> +"Why of course?" he demands. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I. "Why—er—well, you've got my note, ain't you, there in +your hand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" says he. "Rather a clever deduction; eh, Tidman?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't say so," croaks the other. "Quite obvious, in fact. If +it wasn't me it must be you." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but you're such a deucedly keen chap," protests Waldo. Then he +swings back to me. "From my attorneys?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just came from there," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Odd," says he. "I don't remember having seen you before." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," says I. "You see, Mr. Pettigrew, I'm really +representin' the Corrugated Trust and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't know it at all," breaks in Waldo. +</P> + +<P> +"That's why I'm here," says I. "Now, here's our proposition." +</P> + +<P> +And say, before he can get his breath or duck under the table, I've +spread out the blue-prints and am shootin' the prospectus stuff into +him at the rate of two hundred words to the minute. +</P> + +<P> +Yes, I must admit I was feedin' him a classy spiel, and I was just +throwin' the gears into high-high for a straightaway spurt when all of +a sudden I gets the hunch I ain't makin' half the hit I hoped I was. +It's no false alarm, either. T. Waldo's gaze is gettin' sterner every +minute, and he seems to be stiffenin' from the neck down. +</P> + +<P> +"I say," he breaks in, "are—are you trying to sell me something?" +</P> + +<P> +"Me?" says I. "Gosh, no! I hadn't quite got to that part, but my idea +is to give you a chance to unload something on us. This Apache Creek +land of yours." +</P> + +<P> +"Really," says Waldo, "I don't follow you at all. My land?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure!" says I. "All this shaded pink. That's yours, you know. And +as it lays now it's about as useful as an observation car in the +subway. But if you'll swap it for preferred stock in our power +company—" +</P> + +<P> +"No," says he, crisp and snappy. "I owned some mining stock once, and +it was a fearful nuisance. Every few months they wanted me to pay +something on it, until I finally had to burn the stuff up." +</P> + +<P> +"That's one way of gettin' rid of bum shares," says I. "But look; this +is no flimflam gold mine. This is sure-fire shookum—a sound business +proposition backed by one of the—" +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me," says T. Waldo, glarin' annoyed through the big panes, "but +I don't care to have shares in anything." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, very well," says I. "We'll settle on a cash basis, then. Now, +you've got no use for that tract. We have. Course, we can get other +land just as good, but yours is the handiest. If you've ever tried to +wish it onto anyone, you know you couldn't get a dollar an acre. We'll +give you five." +</P> + +<P> +"Please go away," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Make it six," says I. "Now, that tract measures up about—" +</P> + +<P> +"Tidman," cuts in Mr. Pettigrew, "could you manage to make this young +man understand that I don't care to be bothered with such rot?" +</P> + +<P> +Tidman didn't have a chance. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me," says I, flashin' Old Hickory's ten thousand dollar check, +"but if there's anything overripe about that, just let me know. That's +real money, that is. If you want it certified I'll—" +</P> + +<P> +"Stop," says T. Waldo, holdin' up his hand like I was the cross-town +traffic. "You must not go on with this silly business chatter. I am +not in the least interested. Besides, you are interrupting my tutoring +period." +</P> + +<P> +"Your which?" says I, gawpin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Tidman," he goes on, "is my private tutor. He helps me to study +from ten to two every day." +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I. "Ain't you a little late gettin' into college?" +</P> + +<P> +Waldo sighs weary. +</P> + +<P> +"If I must explain," says he, "I prefer to continue improving my mind +rather than idle away my days. I've never been to college or to any +sort of school. I've been tutored at home ever since I can remember. +I did give it up for a time shortly after the death of my father. I +thought that the management of the estate would keep me occupied. But +I have no taste for business—none at all. And I found that by leaving +my father's investments precisely as they came to me my affairs could +be simplified. But one must do something. So I engaged Mr. Tidman. +What if I am nearly thirty? Is that any reason why I should give up +being tutored? There is so much to learn! And to-day's period is +especially interesting. We were just about getting to Thorwald the +Bitter." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you say Biter or Batter?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"I said Thorwald the Bitter," repeats Pettigrew. "One of the old Norse +Vikings, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, shoot it," says I. "What's the joke?" +</P> + +<P> +"But there's no joke about it," he insists. "Surely you have heard of +the Norse Vikings?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," says I. "I got my ear stretched, though." +</P> + +<P> +"Fancy!" remarks T. Waldo, turnin' to Tidman. +</P> + +<P> +Tidman stares at me disgusted, then hunches his shoulders and grunts, +"Oh, well!" +</P> + +<P> +"And now," says Pettigrew, "it's nearly time for Epictetus." +</P> + +<P> +Sounded something like lunch to me, but I wasn't takin' any hints. I'd +discovered several things that Waldo didn't care for, money being among +'em, and now I was tryin' to get a line on what he did like. So I was +all for stickin' around. +</P> + +<P> +"Possibly," suggests Tidman, smilin' sarcastic, "our young friend is an +admirer of Epictetus." +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't seen many of the big games this year," says I. "What league +is he in?" +</P> + +<P> +"Epictetus," says Waldo, breakin' it to me as gentle as he can, "was a +Greek philosopher. We are reading his 'Discourses.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says I. "Not so close, was I? Now, what was his line of +dope—something like the Dooley stuff?" +</P> + +<P> +Waldo and Tidman swaps grins, sort of sly and sheepish, like they +wasn't used to indulgin' in such frivolity. They seemed to enjoy it, +though, and the first thing I know I'm bein' put through a sort of +highbrow third degree, the object being to show up what an empty loft I +wear my pink thatch on. +</P> + +<P> +Course, they didn't have to dig very deep into back-number hist'ry or +B. C. best sellers to prove their case, and when an extra chuckle was +needed I admit I played up my part for all it was worth. Honest, they +develops into a pair of reg'lar cut-ups, and seems to be havin' the +time of their lives discoverin' that I thought Cleopatra must be one of +the Russian ballet and Francis Bacon a new movie star. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet," says Waldo, inspectin' me curious, "your employers intrust +you with a ten thousand dollar check." +</P> + +<P> +"They've never got onto me, the way you have," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"As I have always contended," puts in Tidman, "the commercial mind is +much over-rated. Its intelligence begins with the dollar sign and ends +with a percentage fraction. In England, now, we—" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Peters?" breaks in T. Waldo, glancin' annoyed towards the double +doors, where the butler is teeterin' back and forth on his toes. +</P> + +<P> +"If you please, sir," says Peters, registerin' deep agitation, "might I +have a word with you in—er—in private, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense, Peters," says Waldo. "Don't be mysterious about silly +housekeeping trifles. What is it? Come, speak up, man." +</P> + +<P> +"As you like, sir," goes on Peters. "It—it's about the laundress, +sir. She's sitting on a man in the basement, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha-a-at?" gasps Waldo. +</P> + +<P> +Tidman takes it out by droppin' a book. +</P> + +<P> +"A dangerous character, we think, sir," says the butler—"most likely +one of a gang of burglars. Mrs. Flynn found him lurking in the +coal-bin on account of his having sneezed, sir. Then she grappled him, +sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, dear!" groans Tidman, his face goin' putty-colored. +</P> + +<P> +"The deuce!" says Waldo. "And you say the laundress has him—er—" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite secure, sir," says Peters. "Both hands in his hair and she +sitting on his chest, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"But—but this can't go on indefinitely," says Waldo. "I suppose +something ought to be done about it." +</P> + +<P> +"I should suggest sending for the police, sir," says Peters. +</P> + +<P> +"Bother!" says Waldo. "That means my going to police court, and having +the thing in the papers, and— Why, Tidman, what's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +The tutor sure was takin' it hard. His thin, bony fingers are +clutchin' the chair arm desperate, clammy drops are startin' out on his +brow, and his narrow-set eyes are starin' at Peters. +</P> + +<P> +"She's such a heavy female—Mrs. Flynn," groans Tidman. "Right on his +chest, too!" +</P> + +<P> +"Better that than having him wake us up in the middle of the night +flourishing firearms and demanding valuables," says Waldo. +</P> + +<P> +"Ugh! Burglars. How—how silly of them to come here! It's so +disturbing, and I do dread having the police in. I wish you wouldn't +look so ghastly over it, Tidman. Come, suggest something." +</P> + +<P> +But Tidman don't seem to be a good suggester. "Both hands in his hair. +Oh!" he mutters. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not your hair," sputters Waldo. "And saying idiotic things like +that doesn't help. Not a bit. Must I call the police, or what?" +</P> + +<P> +"The police!" whispers Tidman, hoarse and husky. +</P> + +<P> +"But what else can I do?" demands Waldo. Then he turns to me. "I say, +can you think of anything?" +</P> + +<P> +"Seems to me I'd have a look at the gent first," says I. "Mistakes +sometimes happen, you know, in the best regulated basements. Might be +just a man takin' the meters, or a plumber, or something like that." +</P> + +<P> +"By George, that's so!" says T. Waldo, chirkin' up. "But—er—must I +go down there? Suppose he should be a burglar, after all?" +</P> + +<P> +"We'd be three to one, not countin' Mrs. Flynn," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you help, really?" he asks eager. "You see, I'm not very +strong. And Tidman—well, you can't count much on him. Besides, how +does one know a burglar by sight?" +</P> + +<P> +"They don't wear uniforms, that's a fact," says I; "but I might ask him +what he was doin' down there and call for proof. Then, if he was only +takin' the meter, why—" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," says Waldo. "We will—er—you'll do that for me, will you +not? Come along, Tidman. You too, Peters. We'll just find out who +the fellow is." +</P> + +<P> +I must say, it's kind of a draggy rush line they formed, Tidman havin' +to be almost pushed, and Peters keepin' well in the rear. I finds +myself leadin' the assault, with Waldo a bad second, but tellin' me +which turns to make and urgin' Tidman to follow close. +</P> + +<P> +Sure enough, though, there on the laundry floor we discovers the +victorious Mrs. Flynn, a wide, husky party, with something flattened +underneath. About all that's visible is a pair of run-over shoes and +part of a coat sleeve that's been ripped off. She seems glad to see us. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks be!" says she, sighin' grateful. "It's faint and wake I am +strugglin' with this murderous little shrimp. Ah, squirm, will ye! +There's men to handle ye now, and the coppers'll soon be here. Will ye +take charge of him, Mr. Pettigrew?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no! Please, Mrs. Flynn!" protests Waldo. "You are doing +excellently. Don't let him up just yet." +</P> + +<P> +"O-o-o-o!" moans the flattened gent. "My poor back!" +</P> + +<P> +"If you could ease up a bit, so we might get a look at him," I +suggests. "We want to see if he's really a burglar." +</P> + +<P> +"He's that, all right," says Mrs. Flynn. "Didn't I catch him +red-handed prowlin' about? But if ye want to see what his ugly mug +looks like, ye may. There! Sit ye up and face the gintlemen!" +</P> + +<P> +She's a shifty party with her hands and feet, for with a couple of body +twists Mrs. Flynn is on her knees behind him with his arms pinned to +the small of his back. +</P> + +<P> +"There, thief of the wor-ruld!" says she. "Tell 'em whatever you came +to steal." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on," says I. "Mind the lady." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I'm no thief; really, gentlemen," says he. "You can see that, I +trust." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure!" says I. "Just mistook the basement for the drawin'-room, +didn't you? And you was about to leave cards on the fam'ly. What name +did you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I'd rather not give my name," says he, hangin' his head. +</P> + +<P> +"It's being done in the best circles," says I. "These calls incog. are +gettin' to be bad form. Isn't that right, Mr. Pettigrew?" +</P> + +<P> +"If he is a gas man or a plumber," says Waldo, "why doesn't he say so +at once?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's your cue," says I. "Now come across with the alibi." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I can't explain just how I happen to be here," says the gent, +"but—but there are those who can." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I. "Oh-ho!" +</P> + +<P> +It was only a quick glance he shot over, but I caught who it was aimed +at. Also, I noticed the effect. And just like that I had a swift +hunch how all this ground-floor mix-up might be worked in useful. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Pettigrew," says I, "suppose I could Sherlock Holmes this laundry +mystery without callin' in the cops?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I should be so grateful!" says T. Waldo. +</P> + +<P> +"That ain't the answer," says I. "Would it make you feel different +about sellin' that land?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I say, you know!" protests T. Waldo, startin' to stiffen up. +</P> + +<P> +For a two-by-four he lugs around a lot of cranky whims, and it looked +like this was one of his pets. There's quite a mulish streak in him, +too. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," says I, startin' towards the basement stairs. "Settle it +your own way." +</P> + +<P> +"But, really, I—I don't know what to do," says Waldo. "I—I'm all +upset. Of course, if you insist on the land—" +</P> + +<P> +"That's talkin'!" says I. "My guess is that it won't take long. +Suppose you and Peters go back upstairs. You can leave Tidman, though." +</P> + +<P> +"You—you're sure it is safe?" asks Waldo. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at that grip of Mrs. Flynn's," says I. +</P> + +<P> +After one skittish glance, Waldo does a quick exit. At that, though, +Peters beat him to it. +</P> + +<P> +"Tidman," says I, when they're gone, "we'll step out towards the back a +ways and consult. Hold him a minute longer, Mrs. Flynn." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I don't see why I should be dragged into this," whines Tidman, as I +leads him towards the rear. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind," says I. "We're goin' to clear this all up right away. +Now, who is he, Tidman? Black-sheep brother, or what?" +</P> + +<P> +Got a jump out of him, that jab did. But he recovers quick. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, he's no relative at all," says Tidman. "I assure you that I +never saw the—" +</P> + +<P> +"Naughty, naughty!" says I. "Didn't I spot that peaked beak of his, +just like yours? That's a fam'ly nose, that is." +</P> + +<P> +"Cousin," admits Tidman, turnin' sulky. +</P> + +<P> +"And sort of a blot on the escutcheon?" I goes on. +</P> + +<P> +Tidman nods. +</P> + +<P> +"Booze or dope?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Both, I think," says Tidman. "He—he has almost ruined my career." +</P> + +<P> +"Pulls the Black Hand stuff on you, eh?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Tidman groans. +</P> + +<P> +"I lost two positions because of him," says he. "It is only when he +gets desperate that he hunts me up. I hadn't seen him for over two +years until this morning. I'd been out for a walk, and he must have +followed me. We were in the front vestibule, and he was begging, as +usual,—threatening, too,—when I saw Mr. Pettigrew coming in. So I +hurried Ralph through the hall and downstairs. I thought he could stay +there until I was through tutoring; then I could give him something and +send him off. But that Mrs. Flynn—" +</P> + +<P> +"She's a swell short-stop," says I. "Doin' extra duty, too. Got a +couple of fives on you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, ye-e-es," says Tidman; "but what—" +</P> + +<P> +"You're goin' to reward her for sittin' on Cousin Ralph so long," says +I. "Give her one of the fives. You can slip the other to him as we +shoo him through the back door. Now, let's go relieve Mrs. Flynn." +</P> + +<P> +From the rough way we collared Ralph and led him off, she must have +thought we was headin' him straight for Sing Sing. Anyway, that +five-spot kept her mind busy. +</P> + +<P> +Our remarks to Ralph were short but meaty. "You see the bally muss you +got me into, I hope," says Tidman. +</P> + +<P> +"And just remember," I adds, "when the fit strikes you to call again, +that Mrs. Flynn is always on hand." +</P> + +<P> +"She's a female hyena, that woman," says Cousin Ralph, rubbin' his back +between groans. "I—I wouldn't get within a mile of her again for a +fortune." +</P> + +<P> +Couldn't have been more'n ten minutes before the three of us—Waldo, +Tidman, and me—was all grouped in the lib'ry again, just as though +nothing had happened. +</P> + +<P> +"My hunch was right," says I. "He wasn't a burglar. Ask Tidman." +</P> + +<P> +Tidman backs me up hearty. +</P> + +<P> +"Then who the deuce was he," demands Waldo, "and what was he—" +</P> + +<P> +"Now, say!" says I. "You've been let out, ain't you? He's gone; no +police, no court proceedin's, no scandal in the servants' quarters. +Ain't that enough?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're quite right," says Waldo. "And we still have time for that +chapter of—" +</P> + +<P> +"So you have," says I; "only you got to ditch this Toothpicketus work +until you sign an order to your lawyers about sellin' that land. Here, +lemme draft it off for you. Twelve words. Likely they'll want an O. +K. on the 'phone, too; but you won't mind that. Now your signature. +Thanks. And say, any time you and Tidman need a crude commercial mind +to help you out, just send for me." +</P> + +<P> +Uh-huh! By three o'clock next day we owned the whole of that Apache +Creek tract and had the goods to shove at Ballinger. +</P> + +<P> +Was it a smear? It was—a smear plus. Tickled? Why, Old Hickory came +so near smilin' I was afraid that armor-plate face of his was goin' to +crack. +</P> + +<P> +But say, don't tell the National Real Estaters' League about that +commission check he slipped me. I might lose my amateur standin'. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BREAKING ODD WITH MYRA +</H3> + + +<P> +Next time I'll pay attention. For Vee must have mentioned how this +Cousin Myra of hers was comin'. Yes, I remember now. Said something +about her being an old-maid niece of Auntie's who was due to drift in +from Bermuda or California or somewhere, and that she might stay over a +few days. +</P> + +<P> +But it was no solemn warning as it had a right to be. So, by the time I +gets this sudden hunch the other night about runnin' up for a little +unlisted chat with Vee, I must have forgotten. Not one of my regular +evenin's, you understand, nor any special date: I was just takin' a +chance. And when the maid tells me Miss Vee and Auntie have gone out for +an after-dinner stroll on the Drive, I chucks my new felt-rim straw on +the hall table and remarks careless that, as Auntie ain't likely to do +any Marathon before bedtime, I guess I'll wait. +</P> + +<P> +Helma grins. "Mees Burr, she in bookrary, yes," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says I. "The cousin? That'll be all the better. Good chance for +me to be gettin' in right with her. Tell her what to expect, Helma." +</P> + +<P> +That's the sort of social plunger I am—regular drawing-room daredevil, +facin' all comers, passin' out the improvised stuff to strangers, and +backin' myself strong for any common indoor event. That is, I was until +about 8:13 that evenin'. Then I got in range of them quick-firin' dart +throwers belongin' to Miss Myra Burr. +</P> + +<P> +Say, there's some people that shouldn't be allowed at large without +blinders on. Myra's one. Her eyes are the stabby kind, worse than long +hatpins. Honest, after one glance I felt like I was bein' held up on a +fork. +</P> + +<P> +"Ouch!" says I, under my breath. But she must have heard. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg pardon," says she. "Did you say something?" +</P> + +<P> +"Side remark to my elbow," says I. "Must have caught the decreasing as I +came through. Excuse it." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says she. "You are the young man who dances such constant +attendance on Verona, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's a swell way of puttin' it," says I. "And I suppose you're +the—er—" +</P> + +<P> +"I am Miss Burr," says she. "Verona is my cousin." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" says I. "Think of that!" +</P> + +<P> +"Please don't reflect on it too hard," says she, "if you find the fact +unpleasant." +</P> + +<P> +"Why—er—" I begins, "I only meant—ah— Don't let me crash in on your +readin', though." +</P> + +<P> +Her thin lips flatten into a straight line—the best imitation of a smile +she can work up, I expect—and she turns down a leaf in her magazine. +Then she shifts sudden to another chair, where she has me under the +electrolier, facin' her, and I knows that I'm let in for something. I +could almost hear the clerk callin', "Hats off in the courtroom." +</P> + +<P> +Odd, ain't it, how you can get sensations like that just from a look or +two? And with dimmers on them lamps of hers Myra wouldn't have scared +anybody. Course, her nose does have sort of a thin edge to it, and her +narrow mouth and pointed chin sort of hints at a barbed-wire disposition; +but nothing real dangerous. +</P> + +<P> +Still, Myra ain't one you'd snuggle up to casual, or expect to do any +hand-holdin' with. She ain't costumed for the part, for one thing. No, +hardly. Her idea of an evenin' gown seems to be to kick off her +ridin'-boots and pin on a skirt. She still sticks to the white +neck-stock; and, the way her hair is parted in the middle and drawn back +tight over her ears, she's all fixed to weather a gale. Yes, Myra has +all the points of a plain, common-sense female party just taggin' +thirty-five good-by. +</P> + +<P> +Not that I puts any of them comments on the record, or works 'em in as +repartee. Nothing like that. I may look foolish, but there are times +when I know enough not to rock the boat. Besides, this was Myra's turn +at the bat; and, believe me, she's no bush-leaguer. +</P> + +<P> +"H-m-m-m!" says she, givin' me the up-and-down inventory. "No wonder +you're called Torchy. One seldom sees hair quite so vivid." +</P> + +<P> +"I know," says I. "No use tryin' to play it for old rose, is there? All +I'm touchy about is havin' it called red." +</P> + +<P> +"For goodness' sake!" says she. "What shade would you call it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says I, "I think it sounds more refined to speak of it as pink +plus." +</P> + +<P> +But Myra seems to be josh-proof. +</P> + +<P> +"That, I presume," says she, "is a specimen of what Aunt Cornelia refers +to as your unquenchable impertinence." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says I. "If you've been gettin' Auntie's opinion of me—" +</P> + +<P> +"I have," says Myra; "and, as a near relative of Verona's, I trust you'll +pardon me if I seem a bit critical on my own part." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't mind me at all," says I. "You don't like the way I talk or the +color of my hair. Go on." +</P> + +<P> +She ain't one to be led anywhere, though. +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," says Myra, "that you come here two or three evenings a +week." +</P> + +<P> +"That's about the schedule," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"And just why?" demands Myra. +</P> + +<P> +"It's more or less of a secret," says I; "but there's always a chance, +you know, of my havin' a cozy little fam'ly chat like this. And when +that don't happen—well, then I can talk with Vee." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Burr's mouth puckers until it looks like a slit in a lemon. +</P> + +<P> +"To be perfectly frank," says she, "I think it unutterably silly of Aunt +Cornelia to allow it." +</P> + +<P> +"I can see where you're goin' to be a great help," says I. "Stayin' some +time, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"That depends," says Myra—and the way she snaps at me is almost assault +with intent to maim. "I suppose," she goes on, "that you and Verona are +quite as insufferable as young people usually are. Tell me; do you sit +in corners and giggle?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not as a rule," says I, "but it looks like we would." +</P> + +<P> +"At me, I presume?" says Myra. "Very well; I accept the challenge." +</P> + +<P> +And say, she's no prune-fed pacifist, Cousin Myra. Course, she don't +swing the hammer quite so open when the folks get back, for Vee ain't one +you can walk on with hobnails and get away with it. I guess Myra +suspicioned that. But, when it comes to sly jabs and spicy little side +remarks shot in casual, Miss Burr lives up to her last name. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes!" says she, when they tries to introduce us reg'lar. "We have +become well acquainted—very." +</P> + +<P> +"How nice!" says Vee, sort of innocent. +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad you think so," says Myra. +</P> + +<P> +And for the rest of the evenin' she confines her remarks to Auntie, +cuttin' loose with the sarcasm at every openin' and now and then tossin' +an explosive gas bomb at us over Auntie's shoulder. Nothing anyone could +grab up and hurl back at her, you know. It's all shootin' from ambush. +Some keen tongue she has, take it from me. At 9:30 I backed out under +fire, leavin' Vee with her ears pinked up and a smolderin' glow in them +gray eyes of hers. +</P> + +<P> +If it hadn't been for puttin' myself in the quitter class I'd laid off +Sunday night. But I just couldn't do that. So we stands another siege. +No use tryin' to describe it. Cousin Myra's tactics are too sleuthy. +Just one jab after another, with them darnin'-needle eyes addin' the fine +touches. +</P> + +<P> +But this time Vee only smiles back at her and never answers once. Why, +even Auntie takes up a couple of Myra's little slams and debates the +point with her enthusiastic. Nothing from Vee, though. I don't +understand it a bit until it's all over, and Vee follows me out into the +hall and helps me find my hat. Quite careless, she shuts the door behind +us. +</P> + +<P> +"Whew!" says I. "Some grouch, Cousin Myra! What is it—shootin' pains +in the disposition?" +</P> + +<P> +Vee snickers. "Did you mind very much, Torchy?" she asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Me?" says I. "Oh, I was brought up on roasts—never knew much else. +But, I must say, I was gettin' a bit hot on your account." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't," says she. "You see, I know all about Cousin Myra—why she's +like that, I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"On a diet of mixed pickles and sour milk, is she?" says I—"or what?" +</P> + +<P> +No, it wasn't anything so simple as that. It was a case of a romance +that got ditched. Seems that Myra'd been engaged once. No idle seashore +snap runnin' from Fourth of July to Labor Day, but a long-winded, +year-to-year affair. The party of the second part was one Hinckley, a +young highbrow who knew so much that it took the college faculty a long +time to discover that he was worth more'n an assistant bartender and +almost as much as a fourth-rate movie actor. Then, too, Myra's father +had something lingerin' the matter with him, and wouldn't let anybody +manage him but her. Hymen hobbled by both hind feet, as you might say. +</P> + +<P> +They was keepin' at it well, though, each bearin' up patient and waitin' +for the happy day, when Myra's younger sister came home from +boardin'-school and begun her campaign by practisin' on the Professor, +just because he happened to be handy. She was a sweet young thing with +cheek dimples and a trilly laugh, and—well, you can guess the rest. +Only, when little sister has made a complete hash of things, she skips +merrily off and marries a prominent 'varsity quarter-back who has water +on the knee and the promise of a nine-dollar-a-week job in uncle's stove +works. +</P> + +<P> +Course, Myra really should have made it up when Professor Hinckley +finally does come crabbin' around with another ring and a sad-eyed alibi. +But she wouldn't—not her. Besides, father had begun takin' mud baths +and experimentin' with climates. +</P> + +<P> +So for eight or ten years she went driftin' around here and there, +battlin' with room clerks and head waiters, hirin' and firin' nurses, +packin' trunks every month or so, and generally enjoyin' the life of a +health hunter, with her punctured romance trailin' further and further +behind her. Even after father had his final spell and the last doctor's +bill was paid off, Myra kept on knockin' around, claimin' there wouldn't +be any fun makin' a home just for herself. Why not? Her income was big +enough, so she didn't have to worry about rates. All she asked was a +room and bath somewhere, and when the season changed she moved on. She'd +got so she could tell you the bad points about every high-priced resort +hotel from Catalina to Bar Harbor, and she knew so many veranda bores by +sight that she could never shake all of 'em for more'n a day or so at a +time. +</P> + +<P> +"No wonder she's grown waspy, living a life like that," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't there any way of our duckin' this continuous stingfest, though?" +says I. +</P> + +<P> +"There is something I'd like to try," says Vee, "if you'll promise to +help." +</P> + +<P> +"If it's a plan to put anything over on Miss Burr," says I, "you can +count on me." +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose it sounds silly?" says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Comin' from you," says I, "it couldn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Blarney!" says Vee. "But you've said you'd help, so listen; we'll give +a Myra day." +</P> + +<P> +"A which?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Come here while I whisper," says she. +</P> + +<P> +I expect that's why it don't sound more'n half nutty, too, delivered that +way. For with Vee's chin on my shoulder, and some of that silky +straw-colored hair brushin' my face, and a slim, smooth arm hooked chummy +through one of mine—well, say; she could make a tabulated bank statement +listen like one of Grantland Rice's baseball lyrics. Do I fall for her +proposition? It's almost a jump. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," says I. "Not that I can figure how it's goin' to work out, +but if that's your idea of throwin' the switch on her, I'm right behind +you. Just give me the proper cues, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait until I hear from my telegram," says Vee. "I'll let you know." +</P> + +<P> +I didn't get the word until Tuesday afternoon, when she 'phones down. +</P> + +<P> +"He's coming," says Vee. "Isn't he the dear, though? So we'll make it +to-morrow. Everything you can possibly think of, remember." +</P> + +<P> +As a starter I'd spotted the elevator-boy up at Auntie's. Andrew Zink is +his full name, and he's a straight-haired smoke from the West Indies. +We'd exchanged a few confidential comments on Miss Burr, and I'd +discovered she was just about as popular with him as she was with the +rest of us. +</P> + +<P> +"But for to-morrow, Andy," says I, slippin' him a whole half dollar, +"we're goin' to forget it. See? It'll be, 'Oh, yes, Miss Burr.' and +'Certainly, Miss Burr,' all day long, not omitting the little posie +you're goin' to offer her first thing' in the mornin'." +</P> + +<P> +Andy tucks away the half and grins. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, sir," says he. "It'll be quite a lark, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Next I fixed it up with Mike, the doorman. He'd had a little run-in with +Myra about not gettin' a taxi quite quick enough for her, so I had to +double the ante and explain how this was a scheme Vee was workin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure!" says he. "Anything Miss Verona says goes with me. I'll do my +best." +</P> + +<P> +The hard part came, though, when I has to invite Myra to this little +dinner-party I'm supposed to be givin'. Course, it's Auntie's blow, but +she's been primed by Vee to insist that I do the honors. First off, I +was goin' to run up durin' lunch hour and pass it to Cousin Myra in +person; but about eleven o'clock I decides it would be safer to use the +'phone. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says she. "I am to be utilized as a chaperon, am I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't think of anybody who'd do it better," says I; "but, as a matter +of fact, that ain't the idea. Auntie's going, you see, and I thought +maybe I could induce you to come along, too." +</P> + +<P> +"But I detest hotel dinners," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, come on! Be a sport!" says I. "Lemme show you what I can pick from +the menu. For one item, there'll be <I>tripe à la mode de Caen</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll come," says Myra. "But how on earth, young man, did you know +that—" +</P> + +<P> +"Just wait!" says I. "You got a lot of guessin' besides that. I'll call +for you at seven sharp." +</P> + +<P> +So I spent most of my noon hour rustlin' through florist shops to get the +particular kind of red roses I'd been tipped off to find. I located 'em, +though, and bought up the whole stock, sendin' part to the house and +luggin' the rest to the head waiter. While I was at the hotel, too, I +got next to the orchestra leader and gave him the names of some pieces he +was to spring durin' dinner. +</P> + +<P> +After all, though, it was Auntie who turned the cleverest trick. She'd +got real enthusiastic by Wednesday mornin', and what does she do but dash +down to the Maison Félice, pick out a two-hundred-dollar evenin' gown, +and have it sent up with a fitter. Vee says Myra simply wouldn't open +the box for half an hour; but then she softened up, and after she'd been +buckled into this pink creation with the rosebud shoulder straps she +consents to take one squint at the glass. Then it develops that Myra is +still human. From that to allowin' a hairdresser to be called in was +only a step, which explains the whole miracle of how Myra blossomed out. +</P> + +<P> +And say, for a late bloomin' it was a wonder. Honest, when I gets my +first glimpse of her standin' under the hall light with Hilda holdin' her +opera wrap, I lets out a gurgle. Had I wandered into the wrong +apartment? Was I disturbin' some leadin' lady just goin' on for the +first act? No, there was Cousin Myra's thin nose and pointed chin. But, +with her hair loosened up and her cheeks tinted a bit from excitement, +she looks like a different party. Almost stunnin', you know. +</P> + +<P> +Vee nudges me to quit the gawp act. +</P> + +<P> +"Gosh!" I whispers. "Who'd have thought it?" +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-s-sh!" says Vee. "We don't want her to suspect a thing." +</P> + +<P> +I don't know whether she did or not, but when we're towed into the +dinin'-room she spots the table decorations right off, and whirls on me. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's plotting, young man," says she. "But if you will tell me how you +discovered I was so fond of Louis Philippe roses I'll forgive you." +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like I was a good guesser, don't it?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"You're good at something, anyway," says Cousin Myra; "but—but why five +places?" +</P> + +<P> +She's noticed the extra plate and is glancin' around inquirin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says I, offhand, "odd numbers for luck, so I took a chance on +askin' in an old friend of yours. He ought to be in the cloak-room by +now. I'll go fetch him." +</P> + +<P> +You should have seen the look on her face, too, when I shows up with +Professor Hinckley. He's a perfectly good highbrow, understand—pointed +face whiskers, shaggy forelock, wide black ribbon on his eyeglasses, and +all—sort of a mild-eyed, modest appearin' gent, but kind of +distinguished-lookin', at that. And you'd never guess how nervous he +really was. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Myra?"' says he, beamin' friendly through his glasses. +</P> + +<P> +"Lester!" she gasps. +</P> + +<P> +They didn't exactly go to a clinch, but they shook hands so long the +waiter had to slide the caviar canape between 'em, and even after we got +'em to sit down they couldn't seem to break off gazin' at each other. As +a fond reunion it was a success from the first tap of the bell. They +went to it strong. +</P> + +<P> +As for the Profess., he seemed to be knocked clear off his pins. Honest, +I don't believe he knew whether he was eatin' dinner or steerin' an +airship. I caught him once tryin' to butter an olive with a bread stick, +and he sopped up a pink cocktail without even lookin' at it. The same +thing happened to the one Vee pushed over near his absent-minded hand. +And the deeper he got into the dinner the livelier grew the twinkle in +them mild eyes of his. +</P> + +<P> +Cousin Myra, too, was mellowin' fast. The first time she let loose with +a laugh, I near fell off my chair; but before long I got used to it. +Next thing I knew, she was smilin' across at me real roguish, and beatin' +time with her finger-tips to the music. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, ha!" says she. "More of your tricks. I thought the 'Nocturne' was +just an accident, but now the 'Blue Danube'—that is your work, young +man. Or is it Verona's! Come now, what are you up to, you two over +there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ask Torchy," says Vee, shakin' her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you believe her," says I. "She's the one that planned most of +this." +</P> + +<P> +"But what is it?" demands Cousin Myra. "What do you call it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says I, grinnin' more or less foolish, "we're just givin' a Myra +day, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"Splendid!" says she. "And the fact that I don't in the least deserve it +makes it seem all the nicer. I suppose your being here, Lester, is part +of the plot, too?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hope so," says the Professor. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know," says Myra, liftin' her glass and glancin' kittenish over +the brim at him, "I mean to try to live up to this day. I don't mind +saying, though, that for a while it's going to be an awful strain." +</P> + +<P> +"Anyway," says I to Vee, after it's all over and the Professor has +finally said good night, "she's got a good start." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says Vee, "and perhaps Lester will help some. I didn't quite look +for that. It's been fun, though, hasn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"For an indoor sport," says I, "givin' a Myra day is a lot merrier than +it sounds. It beats bein' good to yourself nine up and six to go." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +REPORTING BLANK ON RUPERT +</H3> + + +<P> +And yet, I've had people ask me if this private sec. job didn't get +sort of monotonous! Does it? Say, listen a while! +</P> + +<P> +I was breezin' through the arcade here the other noon, about twenty +minutes behind my lunch schedule, when someone backs away from the +marble wall tablets the agents have erected in honor of them firms that +keep their rent paid. Some perfect stranger it is, who does the +reverse goose step so unexpected that there's no duckin' a collision. +Quite a substantial party he is, too, and where my nose connects with +his shoulder he's built about as solid as a concrete pillar. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," I remarks, when the aurora borealis has faded out and I can see +straight again, "if you're goin' to carom around that way in public, +you ought to wear pads." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm sorry," says he. "I didn't mean to be so awkward. Hope +you're not hurt, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Then I did do some gawpin'. For who'd ever expect a big, +rough-finished husk like that, would have such a soft, ladylike voice +concealed about him? And the "sir" was real soothin'. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right," says I. "Guess I ain't disabled for life. Next +time, though, I'll be particular to walk around." +</P> + +<P> +"But really," he goes on, "I—I'm not here regularly. I was just +trying to find a name—a Mr. Robert Ellins." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I. "Lookin' for Mr. Robert, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then you know him?" he asks eager. +</P> + +<P> +"Ought to," says I. "He's my boss. Corrugated Trust is what you +should have looked under." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, yes; I remember now," says he. "Corrugated Trust—that's the part +I'd forgotten. Then perhaps you can tell me just where—" +</P> + +<P> +"I could," says I, "but it wouldn't do you a bit of good. He's got +appointments up to 1:15. After that he'll be taking two hours off for +luncheon—if he comes back at all. Better make a date for to-morrow or +next day." +</P> + +<P> +The solid gent looks disappointed. +</P> + +<P> +"I had hoped I might find him to-day," says he. "It—it's rather +important." +</P> + +<P> +At which I sizes him up a little closer. Sort of a carrot blond, this +gent is, with close-cropped pale red hair, about the ruddiest neck you +ever saw off a turkey gobbler, and a face that's so freckled it looks +crowded. The double-breasted blue serge coat and the blue flannel +shirt with the black sailor tie gives me a hunch, though. Maybe he's +one of Mr. Robert's yacht captains. +</P> + +<P> +"What name?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Killam," says he. "Rupert Killam." +</P> + +<P> +"Sounds bloodthirsty," says I. "Cap'n, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why—er—yes," says he. "That is what I am usually called." +</P> + +<P> +"I see," says I. "Used to sail his 60-footer, did you?" +</P> + +<P> +No, that wasn't quite the idea, either. That's somewhere near his +line, though, and he wants to see Mr. Robert very particular. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I may assure you," the Captain goes on, "that it will be to +his advantage." +</P> + +<P> +"In that case," says I, "you'd better tell it to me; private sec., you +know. And if you make a date that's what you'll have to do, anyway. +Suppose you come along and feed with me. Then you can shoot the +details durin' lunch and we'll save time. Oh, I'll charge it up to the +firm, never fear." +</P> + +<P> +The Cap. don't seem anxious to have his information strained through a +third party that way, but I finally convinces him it's the regular +course for gettin' a hearing so he trails along to the chophouse. And, +in spite of his flannel shirt, Rupert seems well table broken. He +don't do the bib act with his napkin, or try any sword-swallowin' stunt. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, what's it all about?" says I, as we gets to the pastry and +demitasse. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says Killam, after glancin' around sleuthy and seein' nobody +more suspicious than a yawnin' 'bus boy, "I have found the lost +treasure of José Caspar." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you?" says I, through a mouthful of strawb'ry shortcake. "When +did he lose it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you ever read," says he, "of Gasparilla?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is it a new drink, or what?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no," says he. "Gasparilla, the great pirate, once the terror of +the Spanish Main. Surely you must have read about him." +</P> + +<P> +"Nope," says I. "That Nick Carter junk never got to me very strong." +</P> + +<P> +The Cap. stares at me sort of surprised and pained. +</P> + +<P> +"But this isn't a dime-novel story I am telling," he protests. "José +Caspar was a real person—just as real as George Washington or John +Paul Jones. He was a genuine pirate, too, and the fact that he had his +headquarters on the west coast of Florida is well established. It's +history. And it is also true that he buried much of his stolen +treasure—gold and jewelry and precious stones—on some one of those +thousands of sandy keys which line the Gulf coast from Anclote Light to +White Water Bay. For nearly two hundred years men have hunted for that +treasure. Why even the United States Government once sent out an +expedition to find it. But I, Rupert Killam, have at last discovered +the true hiding place of that secret hoard." +</P> + +<P> +Can you beat that for a batty conversation to be handed across the +table, right on Broadway at high noon? But say, take it from me, this +Rupert party is some convincin' spieler. With that low, smooth voice +of his, and them buttermilk blue eyes fixed steady and earnest on mine, +I was all but under the spell for a minute or so there. Then I shakes +myself and gets back to normal. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," says I, "you ain't lookin' to put any such fancy tale as that +over on Mr. Robert, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hope I can interest him in the enterprise," says Killam. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, take my advice and don't waste your time," says I. "He's a good +deal of a sport and all that, but I don't think he'd fall for anything +so musty as this old doubloon and pieces-of-eight dope." +</P> + +<P> +"I have proofs," says Rupert, "absolute proofs." +</P> + +<P> +"Got the regulation old chart, eh," says I, "with the lone tree marked +by a dagger?" +</P> + +<P> +No, he didn't have a chart. He went on to say how the treasure was +buried on a certain little island under a mound in the middle of a +mangrove swamp. He'd been there. He'd actually helped dig into one +corner of the mound. He had four pieces of jewelry that he'd taken out +himself; and nobody knew how many chests full was left. +</P> + +<P> +"Back up!" says I. "Why didn't you go on diggin'?" +</P> + +<P> +But he's right there with a perfectly good alibi. Seems, if he dug up +anything valuable and got caught at it, he'd have to whack up a +percentage with the owner of the land. Also, the government would +holler for a share. So his plan is to keep mum, buy up the island, +then charter a big yacht and cruise down there casually, disguised as a +tourist. Once at the island, he could let on to break a propeller +shaft or something, and sneak ashore after the gold and stuff at night +when the crew was asleep. +</P> + +<P> +The Cap. explains that to do it right would take more cash than he +could raise. Hence his proposition for lettin' in Mr. Robert to +finance the expedition. No, he didn't know Mr. Robert personally, but +he'd heard a lot about him in one way or another, and understood he was +generally willin' to take a chance. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you're right," says I. "Anyway, he shouldn't miss hearin' this +lovely yarn of yours. You come back with me and I'll see if I can't +fix it durin' the afternoon. Let's see, what did you say the name of +this island was?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't say," says Rupert. "I can tell you the old Spanish name, +however, which no one on the west coast seems to know. It is Nunca +Secos Key—meaning the key that is never dry." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says I. "That listens better in Spanish. Better not translate +if you want to make a hit." +</P> + +<P> +"I am merely stating the facts as they are," says Rupert. +</P> + +<P> +He's a serious-minded gink, and all frivolous cracks are lost on him +completely. He's a patient waiter, too. He sticks around for over two +hours without gettin' restless, until finally Mr. Robert blows in from +the club. First chance I gets, I springs Rupert on him. +</P> + +<P> +"A guy with a great little scheme," says I, winkin'. "If you can spare +ten minutes he'll tell you something worth while, so he says." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," says Mr. Robert. "But ten minutes must be the limit." +</P> + +<P> +Say, it was rich, too, watchin' Mr. Robert's face as he listens to this +weird tale of pirates and buried gold. First off he was tryin' to be +polite, and only smiled sarcastic; but when Rupert gets to spreadin' on +the romance, Mr. Robert starts drummin' his fingers on the desk and +glancin' at his watch. +</P> + +<P> +Right in the midst of the recital, too, Old Hickory drifts out of his +private office, and stands waitin' with his ear cocked. He has a +report or something he wants to ask a question about, and I was lookin' +every minute to see him crash right in. But Rupert is in high gear, +and goin' stronger all the while; so Mr. Ellins just stands there and +listens. The Cap. had got to the part where he describes this +mysterious island with the mound in the middle, when Mr. Robert shrugs +his shoulders impatient. +</P> + +<P> +"My good fellow," says he, "whatever gave you the notion I would be +interested in such rubbish? Sorry, but your time is up. Torchy, will +you show Mr.—er—what's-his-name to the elevator?" +</P> + +<P> +Which I did as comfortin' as I knew how. Course, he's feelin' some +hurt at bein' choked off so abrupt, but he takes it calm enough. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," says he, "perhaps I can find someone else who will +appreciate that this is the opportunity of a lifetime." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure you can," says I. "Broadway's just lined with willin' ears." +</P> + +<P> +I'd loaded him into an elevator and was strollin' through the +waitin'-room, when Old Hickory comes paddin' out as slinky as a man of +his weight can. +</P> + +<P> +"Young man," says he, "where is that Captain person?" +</P> + +<P> +"About the tenth floor by now, sir," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Bring him back," says Mr. Ellins, sharp and snappy. "Through the +private entrance. Understand?" +</P> + +<P> +I nods and makes a dive into an upbound car that's just makin' a stop +at the seventeenth. "Hey, Jimmy, reverse her! I'll square you with +the starter. That's it. Shoot us down." +</P> + +<P> +So, when Rupert steps out on the ground floor, I'm there to take him by +the arm and lead him back into the elevator. +</P> + +<P> +"Why—why, what's the matter now?" he asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't say," says I. "Only you're wanted again. It's the Big Boss +this time—Old Hickory Ellins himself. And lemme put you hep to this, +Cap'n; if that's a phony tale you're peddlin', don't try it on him." +</P> + +<P> +"But it's all true—every word of it," insists Rupert. +</P> + +<P> +"Even so," says I, "I wouldn't chance it on with Old Hickory. He's a +hard-headed old plute, and that romance dope is likely to make him +froth at the mouth. If he starts in givin' you the third degree, or +anything like that, you'd better close up like a clam. Here we are, +and for the love of Pete draw it mild." +</P> + +<P> +You see, I hadn't minded passin' on a freak to Mr. Robert, for he often +gets a laugh out of 'em. But Mr. Ellins is different. The site of his +bump of humor is a dimple at the base of his skull, and if he traces up +the fact that I'm the one who turned Rupert and his pirate yarn loose +in the general offices my standin' as a discriminating private sec. is +goin' to get a sad jolt. +</P> + +<P> +So when Cap'n Killam has been in on the carpet near an hour, with no +signs of his either havin' been let out or fired through a window, I +begins to get nervous. Once Mr. Robert starts to go into Old Hickory's +sanctum; but he finds the door locked, and shortly after that he shuts +his roll-top and leaves for the day. +</P> + +<P> +It's near closin' time when Old Hickory opens the door an inch or two, +throws a scouty glance around, and beckons me mysterious to come in. +Rupert is still there and still alive. In fact, he's chokin' over one +of Mr. Ellins' fat black cigars, but otherwise lookin' fairly satisfied +with himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Young man," says Old Hickory, "I understand that you have heard some +of Captain Killam's story." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I, careless like. "Oh, yes; I believe he did feed a little +of that tale to me, but—" +</P> + +<P> +"You will kindly forget to mention it about the office," he cuts in. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," says I. "That'll be the easiest thing I do. At the time +it sounded mighty—" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind how it sounded to you," says he. "Your enthusiasms are +easily aroused. Mine kindle somewhat more slowly, but when— Well, no +need to discuss that, either. What I want you to do is to take Captain +Killam to some quiet little hotel—the Tillington, for instance—and +engage a comfortable room for him; a room and bath, perhaps." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-es, sir," I gasps out. +</P> + +<P> +"In the morning," he goes on, "you will call for the Captain about nine +o'clock. If he has with him at that time certain odd pieces of antique +jewelry, you may report over the 'phone to me and I will tell you what +to do next." +</P> + +<P> +I expect I was gawpin' some, and starin' from one to the other of 'em, +for Mr. Ellins scowls and clears his throat menacin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" he growls. +</P> + +<P> +"I was just lettin' it sink in, sir," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Humph!" he snorts. "If it will help the process any, I may say that I +am considering the possibility of going on a cruise South with Captain +Killam—for my health." +</P> + +<P> +At which Old Hickory drops his left eyelid and indulges in what passes +with him for a chuckle. +</P> + +<P> +That's my cue to grin knowin', after which I gets my hat and starts off +with Rupert. We'd only got into the corridor when Old Hickory calls me +hack, wavin' a twenty. +</P> + +<P> +"Pay for two days in advance," says he, and then adds in a whisper: +"Keep close track of him. See that he doesn't get away, or talk too +much." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," says I. "Gag and bind, if necessary." +</P> + +<P> +But there don't seem to be much need of even warnin' Rupert. He hardly +opens his mouth on the way up to the hotel, but trails along silent, +his eyes fixed starey, like he was thinkin' deep. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, after a bell-hop had shown us into one of the +Tillington's air-shaft rooms and gone for ten cents' worth of ice +water, "it looks like you had the Big Boss almost buffaloed with that +pirate tale of yours." +</P> + +<P> +Rupert don't enthuse much at that. +</P> + +<P> +"As a cautious business man," says he, "I suppose Mr. Ellins is quite +right in moving slowly. He wants to see the jewelry, and he wishes +time to investigate. Still, it seems to me that my story ought to +speak for itself." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the line," says I. "Stick to that. But I wouldn't chatter +about it to strangers." +</P> + +<P> +Rupert smiles indulgent. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," says he. "You need not fear. I have kept my secret for +three years—and I still hold it." +</P> + +<P> +He's a dramatic cuss, Rupert. I leaves him posin' in front of the +mirror on the bathroom door, gazin' sort of romantic at himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a common, everyday nut," as I explains to Vee that night, when I +goes up for my reg'lar Wednesday evenin' call, "but a nut, all the +same. Sort of a parlor pirate, too." +</P> + +<P> +"And you think there isn't any buried treasure, after all?" asks Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't it sound simple?" I demands. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not so sure," says Vee, shakin' her head. "There were pirates on +the Florida coast, you know. I've read about them. And—and just +fancy, Torchy! If his story were really true!" +</P> + +<P> +"What was the name of that island, again?" puts in Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +Honest, I hadn't thought she was takin' notice at all when I was givin' +Vee a full account of my afternoon session with Rupert. She never does +chime in much with our talk. And I judged she was too busy with her +sweater-knittin' to hear a word. But here she is, askin' details. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says I, "Captain Killam calls it Nunca Secos Key." +</P> + +<P> +"What an odd name!" says Auntie. "And you left him at some hotel, did +you? The—er—" +</P> + +<P> +"Tillington," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," says Auntie, and resumes her knittin' placid. +</P> + +<P> +Course, there I was, gassin' away merry about what Old Hickory wanted +kept a dead secret. But I usually do tell things to Vee. She ain't +one of the leaky kind. And Auntie don't go out much. Besides, who'd +think of an old girl like that ever bein' interested in such wild +back-number stuff? How foolish! +</P> + +<P> +So I wasn't worryin' any that night, and at quarter of nine next +mornin' I shows up at the hotel to send up a call for Rupert. +</P> + +<P> +"Captain Killam?" says the room clerk with the plastered front hair. +"Why, he left an hour or more ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know," says I; "but he was coming back." +</P> + +<P> +"No," says the clerk; "he said he wasn't. Took his bag, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha-a-at!" I gasps. "He—he ain't gone for good, has he?" +</P> + +<P> +"So it seems," says the clerk, and steps back to continue his chat with +the snub-nosed young lady at the 'phone exchange. +</P> + +<P> +How was that for an early mornin' bump? What was the idea, anyway? +Rupert had found a prospective backer, hadn't he? And was bein' taken +care of. What more could he ask? Unless—unless someone else had got +next to him. But who could have heard of this— +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" I groans. "I wonder?" +</P> + +<P> +I couldn't stand there starin' foolish across the register and do the +wonderin' act all day, though. Besides, I wanted to follow a clew. It +ain't a very likely one, but it's better'n nothing. So I slides out +and boards a Columbus Avenue surface car, and inside of twenty minutes +I'm at Auntie's apartments, interviewin' Helma, her original bonehead +maid. +</P> + +<P> +No, Miss Verona wasn't at home. She'd gone for her morning ride in the +park. Also Auntie was out. +</P> + +<P> +"So early as this?" says I. "When did Auntie get away?" +</P> + +<P> +"Before breakfast yet," says Helma. "She telephone long time, then a +gentlemans coom, and she go out." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a gent with pale hair and plenty of freckles on his face?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +Helma gazes thoughtless at the ceilin' a minute. +</P> + +<P> +"Yah," says she. "Den have funny face, all—all rusty." +</P> + +<P> +"The sleuthy old kidnapper!" says I. "Could she have pulled anything +like that? Here, lemme step in and leave a note for Miss Vee. I want +her to call me up when she comes in. No I'll dash it off right here on +the lib'ry table. Here's a pad and—" +</P> + +<P> +I broke off there, because my mouth was open too wide for further +remarks. On the table was a big atlas opened to the map of Florida. +And on the margin, with a line drawn from about the middle of the west +coast, was something written faint in pencil. +</P> + +<P> +"Nunca Secos Key!" I reads. "Good night! Auntie's got the bug—and +Rupert." +</P> + +<P> +"Vass it is?" asks Helma. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm double-crossed, that's what it is," says I. "I've had a nice long +nap at the switch, and I've just woke up in time to see the fast +express crash on towards an open draw. Hal-lup! Hal-lup! I know I'll +never be the same again." +</P> + +<P> +"It's too bad, yah," says Helma sympathetic. +</P> + +<P> +"That don't half describe it," says I. "And what is goin' to happen +when I report to Old Hickory won't be nice to print in the papers." +</P> + +<P> +"Should I say something by Miss Vee when she coom?" asks Helma. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," says I. "Tell her to kindly omit flowers." +</P> + +<P> +And with that I starts draggy towards the elevator. +</P> + +<P> +Oh, no! Private seccing ain't always what you might call a slumber +part. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHEN AUNTIE CRASHES IN +</H3> + + +<P> +You know Forty-seventh Street and Broadway, the northwest corner? Say, +would you judge there was a specially foolish streak runnin' across +town about there? No, I don't see why there should be; only it was +exactly on that spot I was struck by the hunch that this kidnappin' act +of Auntie's was a joke. +</P> + +<P> +Now, look. A freckle-faced parlor pirate with no more credentials than +a park pan-handler blows in from nowhere particular, and tells a wild +yarn about buried treasure on the west cost of Florida. First off he +gets Old Hickory Ellins, president of the Corrugated Trust and +generally a cagey old boy, more or less worked up. Mr. Ellins turns +him over to me, with orders to watch him close while he's investigatin' +the tale. Then, when I'm gabbin' free and careless about it to Vee, +her Auntie sits there with her ear stretched. She wants to know what +hotel I've left the Captain at. And the next mornin' he's gone. Also +on other counts the arrow points to Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +There I was, too, on my way back to Old Hickory, figurin' whether I'd +better resign first and report afterwards, or just take my chances that +maybe after he'd slept on it he wouldn't be so keen about seein' this +Captain Killam again. Then the whole thing hit me on the funnybone. +Haw-haw! Auntie, the sober old girl with the mixed-pickle disposition, +suddenly comin' to life and pinchin' Old Hickory's find while he's +tryin' to make up his mind whether it's phony or not. Auntie, of all +people! More hearty haw-haws. +</P> + +<P> +When I finally does drift into Old Hickory's private office and he +motions me to shut the door, I'm still registerin' merry thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" says he, snappin' it out crisp. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd never guess," says I, smotherin' a chuckle. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says he, shootin' a puzzled glance at me from under them +overhangin' eyebrows of his. "Who wants to guess? What about Captain +Killam?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's just it," says I. "He's flitted." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha-a-at!" snorts Old Hickory. "You don't mean he has gone?" +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh!" says I. "Been lured away. But say,"—here I indulges in my +most comic open-face movement,—"who do you suppose did the trick on +us?" +</P> + +<P> +Old Hickory stares at me and waves his cigar impatient. "Go on," he +growls. +</P> + +<P> +"You know Miss Vee's aunt," says I, "Mrs. Cornelia Hemmingway? Well, +she's got him. Yep! Just naturally kidnapped him, I expect. I had my +suspicions of her the minute I found the Captain was gone. So I chases +right up there. She's out. The maid admits she went away with a party +answerin' Killam's description. I wouldn't have been sure, though, if +I hadn't found a map of Florida on the lib'ry table and Nunca Secos Key +marked on it. Now, what do you know about that? Auntie! Ain't that +rich?" +</P> + +<P> +No hilarity from Old Hickory—not even one of them cracked concrete +smiles of his. He just sits there glarin' at me, missin' the comedy +cue altogether. +</P> + +<P> +"Young man," says he, "just a moment before we get any further off the +track. How did Mrs. Hemmingway happen to learn about Captain Killam?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says I, "she had her ear out while, I was tellin' Miss Vee. +Would you believe, though, that an old girl like her—" +</P> + +<P> +"I would," says he. "Humorous as it may seem to you, I should credit +almost anyone with wanting to dig up several million dollars, if they +could find where it was hidden." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" I begins. +</P> + +<P> +"Besides Miss Verona and her aunt," goes on Old Hickory, "how many +others have you made acquainted with what I was doing my best to keep a +secret?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a soul," says I. "Honest!" +</P> + +<P> +"Temporary paralysis of the tongue, eh?" he asks. "It's a wonder you +didn't have it published in the morning papers. Quite thoughtless of +you. Hah!" +</P> + +<P> +And say; next time I think I have a joke for Old Hickory I'll go down +to Thirty-third Street and try it first on the statue of Horace +Greeley. If he rocks back and forth in his bronze chair and lifts the +roof off the L station above, I'll know it may do to pass on to Mr. +Ellins. Yep! That's just the way I feel about it. +</P> + +<P> +"I expect I'm released on this case, then?" says I, after waitin' while +Old Hickory chews his cigar savage for a couple of minutes. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he snaps out. "You've succeeded in losing Captain Killam; now +you'll help find him again. I'll go with you this time. Come." +</P> + +<P> +Seemed too simple for words at first, me and Mr. Ellins startin' out to +hunt New York for a batty stranger in a blue flannel shirt. By +degrees, though, I got the idea. It's the competition that has stirred +him up. Likely enough, he'd have turned Rupert and his scheme down +cold if it hadn't been for that. But when Auntie crashes in, the case +is entirely different; then he's strong for it. Settin' that time-lock +jaw of his and lightin' a fresh perfecto, Old Hickory grabs his hat; +and off we go, with me trailin' along reluctant. His first move is to +hail a taxi. +</P> + +<P> +"Just goin' to cruise around town casual in the hopes of spottin' him +on the fly, eh?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly," says Mr. Ellins. "I'm not going to stand in the middle of +Broadway and whistle for him either, or throw out a hook and line and +troll. I think we will go first to Mrs. Hemmingway's, if you will +kindly give the driver the number." +</P> + +<P> +He can be more brutally polite than anyone I ever saw. I wasn't +enjoyin' that ride so much, and it's a relief when we pulls up at the +curb. I offers to run in and see if Auntie is back yet, but he won't +have it. +</P> + +<P> +"Just lead the way, that's all," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, very well," says I. +</P> + +<P> +And when Helma, the maid, has used up all her hyphenated English in +assurin' us that "Meesus" is still out, I rubs it in by shruggin' my +shoulders and glancin' knowin' at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Mees Verona, she coom," suggests Helma. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" says I. "I'd like a word with her, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +Having just finished her canter in the park, Vee is still in her riding +togs; and, take it from me, that's some snappy costume of hers. Maybe +she ain't easy to look at, too, as she floats in with the pink in her +cheeks and her eyes sparklin'. Wish I could fit into a frock-coat like +that, or wear such shiny little boots. Even Old Hickory cheers up a +bit at sight of her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Torchy!" says she, holdin' out her hand. "And Mr. Ellins!" +</P> + +<P> +"Morning calls right along for me, after this," says I, sort of walkin' +around her. "It's worth while." +</P> + +<P> +"Old thing!" says she. "Don't be silly. But what is the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +I glances at Mr. Ellins. "Shall I tell?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"As that seems to be your specialty," says he, "perhaps you had better." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir; thank you, sir," says I, salutin'. +</P> + +<P> +Then I turns to Vee. "Seen Auntie this morning?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, no," says Vee. "I was up rather early, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Not so early as she was," says I. "What do you think she's done? +Jumped in on that treasure hunt I was tellin' you of. She's pinched +Rupert, and by now maybe they're on their way South." +</P> + +<P> +Vee stares at me for a second, and then gives one of them ripply laughs. +</P> + +<P> +"How crazy of you to think such a thing!" says she. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's the evidence in the case," says I, pointin' to the map with the +scribblin' on the side. "That's her writin', ain't it? And you +remember her wakin' up and askin' questions, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-e-es," admits Vee; "but I'm sure she hasn't—" +</P> + +<P> +"She and the Captain are missing," says I. "That's what comes of my +gettin' chatty about business affairs. I didn't dream, though, that +Auntie was such a plunger." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't believe it," says Vee. "There's been some ridiculous mistake. +But I can't imagine where she could have gone so early." +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't have had time to pack a trunk, could she?" I asks. "If not +she'd be coming back some time to-day. Shall we wait here a while, Mr. +Ellins?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think I prefer a meeting on neutral grounds," says he. +</P> + +<P> +So we goes downstairs and paces up and down the sidewalk, watchin' the +avenue traffic sleuthy. +</P> + +<P> +"Course she wouldn't start off without baggage," I suggests. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not so certain," growls Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +Ten minutes we waited—fifteen; and then I spots a yellow taxi rollin' +up from downtown. Inside I gets a glimpse of a black straw lid with +purple flowers on it. +</P> + +<P> +"Here she comes!" I sings out to Old Hickory. "Yep, that's her! And +say! The Captain's with her. Quick! Dive into our cab." +</P> + +<P> +He's a little heavy on his feet, Mr. Ellins is, and someway he manages +to get himself hung up on the cab door. Anyway, Auntie must have seen +us doin' the wild scramble, and got suspicious; for, just as they got +alongside, she pounds on the front window, shouts something at the +driver, and instead of stoppin' the other taxi veers off and goes +smokin' uptown. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey!" yells Mr. Ellins to our driver. "Catch that yellow car! Ten +dollars if you catch it." +</P> + +<P> +And you know it's just the chance of hearin' a few kind words like them +that these taxi pirates live for. This old coffee mill that Mr. Ellins +had hailed reckless could give out more groans and grinds and produce +less speed than any other fare trap I was ever in. The connectin' rods +was wabbly on the shaft, the gears complained scandalous, and the +hit-and-miss average of the cylinders was about 33 per cent. +</P> + +<P> +But after a few preliminary jack-rabbit jumps she begun to get headway, +and the next I knew our driver was leanin' over his wheel like he was +after the Vanderbilt Cup. He must have been throwin' all his weight on +the juice button and slippin' his clutch judicious, for we sure was +breezin' some. Inside of two blocks we'd eaten up half the lead and +was tearin' uptown like a battalion chief answerin' a third alarm. I +glances at Old Hickory to see if he's gettin' nervous at some of the +close shaves; but he's braced himself in one corner, his teeth sunk +deep into his cigar and his eyes glued on that yellow taxi ahead. +</P> + +<P> +They was wise to the fact that we was after 'em, too. First Auntie +would rubber back at us, and then lean forward to prod up her +chauffeur. A couple of rare old sports, them two, with no more worries +for what might happen to their necks than if they'd been joy-riders +speedin' home at 3 A.M. from the Pink Lady Inn. +</P> + +<P> +Me, I was holdin' my breath and waitin' for the grand smash. If +Auntie's driver had stuck to a straightaway run we'd either caught 'em +or smeared ourselves against a beer truck or something. But after the +first mile he takes to dodgin'. Zip! he goes on two wheels around a +corner. +</P> + +<P> +"After him now!" orders Old Hickory. "I'll make it twenty if you don't +let him get away." +</P> + +<P> +"You're on!" says our speed maniac, and does a carom skid into a cross +street that showed he didn't need any banked turns in his. +</P> + +<P> +In and out we goes, east and west and up and down; now losin' sight of +the yellow taxi altogether, then pickin' it up again; droppin' behind a +whole block when the traffic broke bad for us, but makin' it up when +something got in the way of the other cab. +</P> + +<P> +Our gears was hummin' a reg'lar tomcat chorus, but with the throttle +wide open the motor was hittin' on four most of the time. +</P> + +<P> +Talk about your chariot race! Say, if we'd had Ben Hur aboard he'd +been down on the floor, clawin' the mat. Twice we scraped fenders with +passin' cars, and you could have traced every turn we made by the wheel +paint we left on the curb corners. It was a game of gasoline +cross-tag. We wasn't merely rollin'; we was one-stepping fox-trottin', +with a few Loupovka motions thrown in for variety. And, at that, +Auntie was holdin' the lead. +</P> + +<P> +Down at Fifty-ninth, what does her driver do but swing into Fifth +Avenue, right in the thick of it. That was no bonehead play either, +for if there's any one stretch in town where you can let out absolutely +reckless and get a medal for it, that's the place. Course, you got to +take it in short spurts when you get the "go" signal, and that's what +he was doin'. I watched him wipe both ends of a green motor bus and +squeeze into a space that didn't look big enough for a baby carriage. +</P> + +<P> +"Auntie must be biddin' up on the results, too," I remarks to Mr. +Ellins. "There they duck through Forty-third." +</P> + +<P> +"Try Forty-fourth," sings out Old Hickory. "In here!" +</P> + +<P> +It was a poor guess, for when we hits Sixth Avenue there's no yellow +taxi in sight. +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't Auntie's game be to double back home?" I suggests. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll see," says Old Hickory, and gives the order to beat it uptown +again. +</P> + +<P> +And, sure enough, just as we gets in sight of the apartment house, +there's the other taxi, with Auntie haulin' Captain Killam out hasty. +Before we can dash up and pile out, they've disappeared in the +vestibule. +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like we'd lost out by a nose," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," says Old Hickory. "I intend to see what those two mean by +this." +</P> + +<P> +And after 'em we rushes. +</P> + +<P> +But the one elevator was half way up when we fetches the gate. Old +Hickory puts his finger on the button and holds it there. +</P> + +<P> +"They've stopped at the fourth," says I. "Now it'll be comin'— No; +it's goin' all the way to the roof!" +</P> + +<P> +There it stayed, too, although Old Hickory shoots some spicy commands +up the elevator well. +</P> + +<P> +"No use; he's been bought," says I. "What's the matter with the +stairs? Only three flights." +</P> + +<P> +"Good idea!" says Mr. Ellins; and up we starts. +</P> + +<P> +He wouldn't break any stair-climbin' records in an amateur contest, +though, and when he does puff on to the last landin' he's purple behind +the ears and ain't got breath enough left to make any kind of speech. +So I tackles another interview with Helma. +</P> + +<P> +"No," says she; "Meesus not coom yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, ditch the perjury stuff, Helma," says I. "Didn't we just follow +her in?" +</P> + +<P> +"No coom yet," insists Helma in her wooden way. +</P> + +<P> +That's all I can get out of her, too. It wasn't that she'd had orders +to say Auntie wasn't at home, or didn't care to receive just then. +Helma sticks to the simple statement that Auntie hasn't come back. +</P> + +<P> +"But say," I protests; "we just trailed her here. Get that? We was +right on her heels when she struck the elevator. And the Captain was +with her." +</P> + +<P> +"No coom," says Helma, shakin' her head solemn. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, you she-Ananias, you!" I gasps. "Do you mean to tell me that—" +</P> + +<P> +"I beg pardon," says a familiar acetic acid voice behind us—and I +turns to see Auntie steppin' out of the elevator. "Were you looking +for someone?" she goes on. +</P> + +<P> +"You've guessed it," says I. "In fact, we was—" +</P> + +<P> +"Madam," breaks in Mr. Ellins, "will you kindly tell me what you have +done with Captain Rupert Killam?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, Mr. Ellins," says Auntie. "Won't you step in?" +</P> + +<P> +"I should prefer to be told here, at once," says Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +"My preference," comes back Auntie, "if I must be cross-examined, is to +undergo the process in the privacy of my own library, not in a public +hallway." +</P> + +<P> +Well, there was nothing else to it. We could either stay out there and +stare at the door, or follow her in. So in we goes. And maybe Vee's +gray eyes don't open some wide as she views the procession streamin' +in. She glances at me inquirin'. I throws up both hands and shakes my +head, indicatin' that it was beyond words. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," says Auntie, liftin' her purple-decorated lid off one ear and +tuckin' a stray lock into her back hair, "I will answer your question. +I have just sent Captain Killam back to his hotel." +</P> + +<P> +"The Illington?" demands Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +"No," says Auntie. "It was my fancy that Captain Killam deserved +rather better quarters than those you saw fit to provide. So I found +others for him—just where, I do not care to say." +</P> + +<P> +"But he came in here with you a moment ago," insists Old Hickory. "How +could you—" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm next!" says I. "You smuggles him over the roof and down the +elevator in the next building. Wasn't that how you gave us the slip?" +</P> + +<P> +Auntie indulges in one of them lemony, tight-lipped smiles of hers. +"You have exposed my poor strategy," says she; "but a little late, I +trust." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ellins makes her a bow. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Hemmingway," says he, "my compliments on your cleverness as a +tactician. But I fail to see how you justify your methods. You knew +that I was negotiating with Captain Killam?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"And in spite of that," goes on Mr. Ellins, "you induce him to break +his word to me and you hide him in another hotel." +</P> + +<P> +"Something like that," admits Auntie, squarin' her jaw. "Why not, Mr. +Ellins?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Auntie!" gasps Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Verona!" says Auntie, shootin' over a reprovin' look. +</P> + +<P> +"But see here," protests Old Hickory. "I was arranging with this man +to fit out a treasure-hunting expedition. He had made a verbal +contract with me. Just because you over-heard my plans, you had no +right to take advantage. You can't do that sort of thing, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, can't I?" sneers Auntie, lookin' him straight in the eye. "But I +have, you see." +</P> + +<P> +And that's one of the few times I ever saw Old Hickory Ellins squirm at +a come-back. He pinks up some, too; but he keeps a grip on his temper. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you—you intend financing this somewhat doubtful enterprise?" he +asks. "A man you know nothing about, too. Suppose he never comes +back?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shall go along myself," says Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +"You?" says Old Hickory. "To dig for buried treasure!" +</P> + +<P> +"I have always wanted to do something of the kind," says Auntie. +"True, I may not look like that sort of a person, and I suppose that I +do lead rather a dull, commonplace existence. Not from choice, +however. Once I was ship-wrecked in the Mediterranean, and I found it +a thrilling experience. Also I once spent nearly a week on a +snow-bound train in the Rockies; I would not have missed that for +anything. And if Captain Killam can lead me to genuine adventures, I +am going to follow. So there you have it! All you saw in his story, I +presume, was a chance to add to your millions. The romance of the +thing, the mystery of that forgotten little island with its long hidden +pirate hoard, never appealed to you in the least." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, didn't it!" says Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +For a second or so he stares over her head at the wall beyond, and +around his grim mouth corners come softer lines than I'd ever seen +there before. Then, all of a sudden, he adds: +</P> + +<P> +"You'll need a roomy, light-draught yacht." +</P> + +<P> +"We were just going to look for one," says Auntie. "I was returning +for my checkbook when you interfered." +</P> + +<P> +"That was a rather lively pace you set for us," almost chuckles Old +Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +"I have never enjoyed a ride more," says Auntie. "My blood is still +tingling from it." +</P> + +<P> +"And mine," says Mr. Ellins. "We nearly overhauled you once. Did your +cab hit anything?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only the hub of an ashcart," says she. "We lost part of a front +fender. And once a traffic policeman tried to arrest us. We rushed +him, though." +</P> + +<P> +"Auntie!" comes from Vee husky, as she drops back on a window seat. +But Auntie takes no notice. +</P> + +<P> +"I say," goes on Old Hickory, "has Killam shown you the jewelry he dug +from the mound?" +</P> + +<P> +Auntie nods. "It is genuine antique," says she, "the Louis Treize +period, one piece. If there is much like that, no collection in the +world can match it." +</P> + +<P> +"Hm-m-m-m!" says Old Hickory. "I am rather interested in that sort of +thing myself. Then there is the bullion. Of course, if it should turn +out to be part of the Louisiana Purchase money, and it became known +that it had been recovered, I suppose the federal government would step +in, perhaps claim the larger share." +</P> + +<P> +"That would be an outrage," says Auntie. "There's no sense in that, +not a bit. You—you mean you would give the information—that is, +unless—" +</P> + +<P> +"I never make threats," says Old Hickory, "even when I think I have +been cheated out of doing something I've wanted all my life to have a +try at." +</P> + +<P> +It's Auntie's turn to stare at him. And hanged if she don't sort of +mellow up. +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" says she. "I—I had no idea. And it would be fun, wouldn't +it, sailing off for that enchanted coast to hunt for a real treasure +island?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum!'" roars out Mr. Ellins. +</P> + +<P> +It's the battiest remark I ever heard him make. I was lookin' for +Auntie to throw some sort of a fit. But she don't. She comes nearer +chucklin' than anything else. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Ellins," says she, "I think perhaps I have misjudged you. And +I—I suppose I really ought not to attempt such a thing alone. Shall +we—er—" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" says he, reachin' out his hand. "Share and share alike." +</P> + +<P> +"Agreed!" says Auntie. "And now, suppose we get the Captain and look +for that yacht." +</P> + +<P> +They was so anxious to get at it that they chases off without a word to +either Vee or me. She just sits there starin' after 'em. +</P> + +<P> +"Did anyone ever hear of anything quite so absurd?" says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," says I. "I never worked in a filbert factory myself. +I'm sure of one thing, though. With them two on the job, it's goin' to +be put up to Rupert to come across." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A JOLT FROM OLD HICKORY +</H3> + + +<P> +You know Old Hickory Ellins ain't what you might call a sunshine +distributor. His disposition would hardly remind you of a placid pool +at morn, or the end of a perfect day. Not as a rule. Sort of a cross +between a March blizzard and a July thunderstorm would hit it nearer. +</P> + +<P> +Honest, sometimes when he has started on a rampage through the general +offices here, I've seen the bond-room clerks grip their desks like they +expected to be blown through the windows; and the sickly green tinge on +Piddie's face when he comes out from a hectic ten minutes with the big +boss is as good a trouble barometer as you'd want. +</P> + +<P> +Even on average days, when Corrugated affairs seem to be runnin' +smooth, Mr. Ellins is apt to come down with a lumbago grouch or develop +shootin' pains in the knee, and then anybody who ducks gettin' in range +of that snappy sarcasm of his is lucky. +</P> + +<P> +Not that he always means it, or that he's generally disliked. As soon +as it's safe, the bond clerks grin at each other and the lady typists +go to yankin' away on their gum placid. They know nobody's ever had +the can tied to 'em from this joint without good cause. Also, they've +come to expect about so many growls a day from Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +But say, they don't know what to make of him this last week or so. +Twice he's been late, three days runnin' he's quit early, and in all +that time he ain't raised a blessed howl about anything. Not only +that, but the other mornin' he blew in wearin' a carnation in his +button-hole and hummin' a tune. I saw Piddie watch him with his eyes +bugged, and the battery of typists let out a sort of chorus gasp as the +door of his private office shut behind him. +</P> + +<P> +Finally Mr. Robert beckons me over and remarks confidential: +</P> + +<P> +"Torchy, have you—er—noticed anything peculiar about the governor +these last few days?" +</P> + +<P> +"Could I help it?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" says he. "Somewhat rare, such moods. I've been wondering. He +has hinted to me that he might start on some sort of a cruise soon." +</P> + +<P> +"Has he?" says I, tryin' to look surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't suppose, Torchy," Mr. Robert goes on, "that the governor +really means to go after that buried treasure?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Robert," says I, "I ain't sayin' a word." +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" says he. "So that's the way it stands? Well, you haven't +told me anything. And, do you know, I am beginning to think it would +be a fine thing for him to do. It would get his mind off business, +give him an outing, and—er—simplify our negotiations in that +Ishpeming deal. I think I shall encourage his going." +</P> + +<P> +"If you want to make it doubtful, I would," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says Mr. Robert. "You mean— Well, I'm not sure but that you're +right. I'll do just the opposite, then—suggest that he'll not like +cruising, and remind him that the Corrugated has a critical season +ahead of it. By the way, what sort of a boat has he chartered?" +</P> + +<P> +"At last accounts," says I, "they hadn't found one that suited. You +see, Auntie won't stand for a gasoline engine, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Do I understand that Mrs. Hemmingway is going, too?" gasps Mr. Robert. +</P> + +<P> +I nods. +</P> + +<P> +"She's one of the partners," says I. "Kind of a particular old girl, +too, when it comes to yachts. I judge she wants something about half +way between a Cunarder and a ten-room flat; something wide and +substantial." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Robert grins. "They ought to be told about the <I>Agnes</I>," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"What about her?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says he, "she's the marine antique that Ollie Wade inherited +from his uncle, the old Commodore. A fine boat in her day, too, but a +trifle obsolete now: steam, of course, and a scandalous coal eater. +Slow, too; ten knots is her top speed. But she's a roomy, comfortable +old tub, and Ollie would be glad to get her off his hands for a month +or two. Suppose I—" +</P> + +<P> +"Would you mind, Mr. Robert," I breaks in, "if I discovered the <I>Agnes</I> +for 'em? I might boost my battin' average with Auntie; and maybe I +could work Ollie for a commission." +</P> + +<P> +"Here!" says Mr. Robert, shovin' over the desk 'phone. "Make him give +you five per cent. at least. Here's his number." +</P> + +<P> +So that's how it happens I come to be pilotin' this trio of treasure +hunters—Auntie, Old Hickory, and Captain Rupert Killam—over to a +South Brooklyn yacht basin and exhibitin' the <I>Agnes</I>. You'd never +guess, either, from the way she's all painted up fresh, that she was +the A. Y. C. flagship as far back as the early nineties. +</P> + +<P> +"What a nice, wide boat!" says Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +"Beam enough for a battleship," grumbles Rupert. +</P> + +<P> +"I do hope," goes on Auntie, "that the staterooms are something more +than cubbyholes." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's take a look," says I, producin' the keys. +</P> + +<P> +Ollie had mentioned specially the main saloon, but I wasn't lookin' for +anything half so grand. Why, you could almost give a ball in it. Had +a square piano and a fireplace, too. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says Old Hickory. "Quite a craft." +</P> + +<P> +It was when we got to the two suites, one on each side of the +companionway 'midships, that Auntie got real enthusiastic; for, besides +the brass beds and full-sized bathtubs, they had clothes closets, easy +chairs, and writin' desks. +</P> + +<P> +"Excellent!" says she. "But what are those queer overhead pipes for, I +wonder?" +</P> + +<P> +"Must be for the cold-air system Mr. Wade was tellin' me about," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," adds Old Hickory. "I remember now. This is the boat +Commodore Wade went up the Orinoco in, and he had her fitted for +tropical cruising. How many staterooms in all, did you say, son?" +</P> + +<P> +"Twelve, outside of the crew's quarters," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Regular floating hotel," says Old Hickory. "We shall not be crowded +for room, Mrs. Hemmingway." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why not ask some of our friends to go with us?" suggests Auntie. +"There are one or two I should like to take along for companionship. +And it will not look so much like an expedition if we make up a +cruising party." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," says Old Hickory; "that's not a bad idea. We'll decide on +this boat, then?" +</P> + +<P> +Captain Killam tried to point out that the <I>Agnes</I> was a bigger craft +than they needed, and that she didn't look as if she had much speed. +But Auntie had already planned how she could camp comfortable in one of +them suites, and Old Hickory had discovered that the yacht sported a +wireless outfit. Hanged if each one of 'em didn't talk like they'd +found the <I>Agnes</I> all by themselves, or had her built to order! I got +about as much credit as if I hadn't been along at all. +</P> + +<P> +I felt a little better about that two hours later, when I'd hunted up +Ollie at his club, shoved a thousand dollar check at him, and got his +name on a charter agreement. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, you know," says Ollie, "awfully good of you to do this." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm like that all the time," says I, pocketin' my fifty commission. +"I'll rent the <I>Agnes</I> out for you any old day, so long as I don't have +to go battin' around on her myself." +</P> + +<P> +Course, if it was just a case of sailin' down to Coney and back, or +maybe runnin' up the Hudson as far as Yonkers, I'd take a chance. But +this pikin' right out past Sandy Hook, and then goin' on for days and +days, leavin' Broadway further behind every turn of the shaft—that's +different. You're liable to get so far away. +</P> + +<P> +Then, there's that wabbly feeling that comes over you. Say, I had it +once, when I was out in an old lobster boat off the coast of Maine, the +time I used my summer vacation chasin' up where Vee was visitin'. I +had it good and plenty, too, and didn't have to go more'n a couple of +miles to get it, either. But think of bein' that way for a couple of +weeks, and out where you couldn't get ashore if you wanted to. Excuse +me! +</P> + +<P> +Besides, I never did have the travel bug very hard. I'll admit I ain't +seen much of the country outside of New York; but say, what I have +looked over struck me as bein' kind of crude. I expect fields and +woods and the seaside stuff is all right for them that likes 'em. Make +good pictures, and all that. But them places always seem to me such +lonesome spots. Fine and dandy, so far as the view goes, but nobody to +it. I like my scenery sort of inhabited, and fixed so it can be lit up +at night. So I do most of my travelin' between the Bronx and the +Battery, and let it go at that. +</P> + +<P> +Now Vee has been brought up different. She's chased round with Auntie +all over the map, ever since she can remember. They don't mind +startin' off with a maid and seven trunks and not seein' Fifth Avenue +for months at a time. She and Auntie think nothing at all of driftin' +into places like Nagasaki or Honolulu or Algiers, hirin' a furnished +flat or a house, and campin' down just as if they belonged there; +places where they speak all kinds of crazy languages, where ice-cream +sodas don't grow at all, and where you don't even know what you're +eatin' half the time. Think of that! But Auntie's an original old +girl, take it from me. +</P> + +<P> +"She ain't countin' on draggin' you off on this batty gold-diggin' +excursion, is she?" I asks the other evenin', as I was up makin' my +reg'lar Wednesday night call. +</P> + +<P> +Vee shrugs her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure I don't know," says she. "You see, although she knows +perfectly well I've heard all about it, Auntie makes a deep mystery of +everything connected with this cruise. It's that absurd Captain Killam +who puts her up to it, I believe." +</P> + +<P> +"Romantic Rupert?" says I. "Oh, he's a soft-shell on that subject. +Accordin' to his idea, anybody who overhears any details of this pirate +treasure tale of his is liable to grab a dirt shovel and rush right off +down there to begin diggin' Florida up by the roots. He loses sleep +worryin' as to whether someone else won't get there first. It would be +tough if Auntie should take you along, though. I'd hate that." +</P> + +<P> +"Would you?" says Vee. "Really? Well, I've been asked to visit at +three places—Greenwich, Piping Rock, and here in town. How would that +be?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not so bad," says I, "specially that last proposition. I'm strong for +your visitin' here in town." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps we shall hear to-night whether I'm to go or not," says Vee. +"They are to hold some sort of meeting here—everyone who has been +asked on the cruise. There's someone now." +</P> + +<P> +"It's Mr. Ellins," says I, "and— Oh, look who he's towin' along—J. +Dudley Simms. He must be for comic relief." +</P> + +<P> +Just why him and Old Hickory should be such great friends I never could +make out, for they're about as much alike as T and S. Dudley's as thin +as Mr. Ellins is thick; he always wears that batty twisted smile, while +Old Hickory's mouth corners are generally straight, and he knows no +more about finance than an ostrich does about playin' first base. Mr. +Simms owns a big block of Corrugated preferred, and he's supposed to be +on the Board; but all he ever does is to sign over proxy slips and duck +directors' meetings. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm an orphan, you know," is his stock remark when anyone tries to +talk business to him. +</P> + +<P> +Even if he didn't wear gray spats and a wide ribbon on his eyeglasses, +you'd spot him for a funny gink by the offset ears and the odd way he +has of carryin' his head a little to one side. +</P> + +<P> +"What a queer-looking person!" whispers Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait until you hear him spring some of his nutty conversation," says I. +</P> + +<P> +By this time the bell buzzes again, and Helma shows in a dumpy little +woman with partly gray hair and Baldwin apple cheeks—evidently a +friend of Auntie's by the way they go to a clinch. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Mumford," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Auntie's donation to the party, eh?" says I. "Just listen to her coo!" +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-sh!" says Vee, snickerin'. +</P> + +<P> +That's what it was, though—cooin'. Seems to be her specialty, too, +for she goes bobbin' and bowin' around the room, makin' noises like a +turtle-dove on a top branch. +</P> + +<P> +"O-o-o-oh, Mr. Ellins!" says she. "So glad to know you. O-o-o-oh!" +And she smiles and ducks her head and beams gushy on everyone in sight. +</P> + +<P> +"How long can she keep that up on a stretch?" I asks Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Indefinitely," says Vee. "It's quite natural, you know. For, really, +she's an old dear, but a bit tiresome. If she goes she will knit or +crochet the whole blessed time, no matter what happens. She crocheted +all over Europe with us one summer. Fancy facing the Matterhorn and +counting stitches! But Mrs. Mumford did it." +</P> + +<P> +"Then she'll be a great help on their cruise, I don't think," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but she will," says Vee. "You see, she always agrees with +everything Auntie says, and very few can do that. Well, here comes +Professor Leonidas Barr, too. You might know Auntie would want him +along." +</P> + +<P> +"What's he luggin' his hat in for?" says I. "Don't he trust Helma?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's because he's afraid he'll walk out without it," says Vee. "But +he'll do that, anyway. And he leaves it in the weirdest places—under +the piano, in a vase, or back of the fire screen. We always have a +grand hunt for the Professor's hat when he starts to go. But it's no +wonder he forgets such trifles, when he knows so much about fishes. He +writes books about 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"He looks it," says I. "And, last but not least, we have arriving +Captain Rupert Killam, who started all this trouble. My, but he takes +life serious, don't he?" +</P> + +<P> +From where we sat in the library window alcove, we could get a fair +view of the bunch up front, and I must say that the last thing in the +world you'd ever expect this collection to do would be to go cruisin' +off after pirate gold. Here they were, though, gathered in Auntie's +drawin'-room, and if the idea of the meetin' wasn't to hear details +about the trip, what was it? +</P> + +<P> +I was expectin' Auntie to have the foldin' doors shut and an executive +session called; but she either forgot we was there, or else she was too +excited to notice it, for the next thing we knew she was callin' on Mr. +Ellins to state the proposition. Which he does in his usual crisp way. +</P> + +<P> +"You have been asked," says he, "to go with us on a cruise to the west +coast of Florida. That is all you are supposed to know about it, +according to Captain Killam's notion. But that's nonsense. I, for +one, don't intend to keep up an air of mysterious secrecy for the next +three or four weeks. As a matter of fact, we are going after hidden +treasure—pirate gold, buried jewels, all that sort of thing." +</P> + +<P> +"O-o-o-oh!" coos Mrs. Mumford. "Doesn't that sound deliciously +romantic?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quixotic if you will," says Mr. Ellins. "But Mrs. Hemmingway and +myself, although we may not look it, are just that kind. We are +desperate characters, if the truth must be told. The only reason we +haven't hunted for buried treasure before is that we have lacked the +opportunity. We think we have it now. Captain Killam, here, has told +us of an island on which is a buried pirate hoard—millions in gold, +priceless jewels by the peck. And that's what we're going after." +</P> + +<P> +"Most interesting, I'm sure," says Professor Barr, wipin' his glasses +absent-minded with a corner of Mrs. Mumford's shoulder scarf. +</P> + +<P> +"But, I say," puts in J. Dudley Simms, "I'll not be any help at +digging, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Has anyone ever suspected you of being useful in any capacity?" +demands Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, come!" protests Dudley. "I play a fair game of bridge, don't I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Exception allowed," says Mr. Ellins. "And I may say, to quiet any +similar fears, that the entire burden of the treasure hunt will be +undertaken by Mrs. Hemmingway, the Captain, and myself. Incidentally, +we expect to divide the spoils among ourselves. Aside from that, we +ask you to share with us the pleasure and perhaps the perils of the +trip." +</P> + +<P> +"O-o-o-oh!" coos Mrs. Mumford, meanin' nothing at all. +</P> + +<P> +"We have secured a good-sized, comfortable yacht," goes on Old Hickory. +"You will each have a stateroom, assigned by lot. Meal hours and the +menu will be left to the discretion of a competent steward. +</P> + +<P> +"We sail on Wednesday, promptly at 11 A.M. Just when we shall return I +can't say. It may be in a month, possibly two. You will need to dress +for the tropics—thin clothing, sun helmets, colored glasses, all that +sort of thing. +</P> + +<P> +"And you need not be surprised to learn that the yacht is somewhat +heavily armed. On the forward deck you will see something wrapped in +canvas. To anticipate your curiosity I will state now that this is a +machine for making and distributing poisonous gas, as our treasure +island is infested with rattlesnakes and mosquitos. It may also be +useful in discouraging anyone who tries to interfere with our +enterprise. Am I correct, Captain Killam?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite," says Rupert, noddin' his head solemn. +</P> + +<P> +"And now," says Old Hickory, "having been thoroughly frank with you, I +ask that this information be treated as confidential. Also, will any +of you who wish to reconsider your acceptances kindly say so at once? +How about you, Simms?" +</P> + +<P> +"As you know, Ellins," says J. Dudley, "I am a timid, fearsome person. +Do I understand that you three assume all responsibility, all risks?" +</P> + +<P> +"Absolutely," says Mr. Ellins. +</P> + +<P> +"Then here is an opportunity to indulge in vicarious adventure," says +Dudley, "which I can't afford to miss. I'll go; but I shall expect +when the time comes, Ellins, that you will conduct yourself in an +utterly reckless manner, while I watch you through a porthole." +</P> + +<P> +"And you, Professor?" goes on Mr. Ellins. +</P> + +<P> +"If I can secure a specimen of the <I>rivoluta splendens</I>," says +Leonidas, "I shall gladly take any chances." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't the dear Professor just too heroic?" coos Mrs. Mumford. "It +will be worth while going merely to see what a <I>rivoluta splendens</I> +really is." +</P> + +<P> +"We seem to be agreed," says Old Hickory, "and our company is made up. +That is, with two exceptions." +</P> + +<P> +"Great Scott!" I whispers to Vee. "Two more freaks to come!" +</P> + +<P> +"Listen," says Vee. "Auntie is saying something." +</P> + +<P> +So she is, a whole mouthful. +</P> + +<P> +"My niece, Verona, will accompany me, of course," she announces. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, ain't that rough!" says I. "Now what's the sense in draggin' +you off down—" +</P> + +<P> +"And I am obliged," breaks in Mr. Ellins, "to take with me, for purely +business reasons, my private secretary. Mrs. Hemmingway, isn't the +young man somewhere about the place?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good night!" I gasps. "Me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I like that!" says Vee, givin' me a pinch. +</P> + +<P> +"Take it back," says I. "If it's a case of us goin', that's different. +But what a bunch to go cruisin' with!" +</P> + +<P> +And say, when I'm led out and introduced, I must have acted like I was +in a trance. I got it so sudden, you see, and so unexpected. Here I'd +been sittin' back all the while and knockin' this whole thing as a +squirrel-house expedition, besides passin' comments on the crowd; and +the next thing I know I'm counted in, with my name on the passenger +list. +</P> + +<P> +That was two days ago; and while I've been movin' around lively enough +ever since, windin' things up at the office, hirin' a wireless operator +for Mr. Ellins, and layin' in a stock of Palm Beach suits and white +deck shoes, I ain't got over the jolt yet. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Mr. Robert," says I, when no one else is around, "how long can +anybody be seasick and live through it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it is seldom fatal," says he. "The victims linger on and on." +</P> + +<P> +"Hal-lup!" says I. "And I'll bet that roly-poly Mrs. Mumford comes +twice a day to coo to me. What did I ever get let in on this private +seccing for, anyway?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TORCHY HITS THE HIGH SEAS +</H3> + + +<P> +Well, I got to take it all back—most of it, anyway. For, between you +and me, this bein' a seagoing private sec. ain't the worst that can +happen. Not so far as I've seen. +</P> + +<P> +What I'm most chesty over, though, is the fact that I've been through +the wop and wiggle test without feedin' the fishes. You see, when the +good yacht <I>Agnes</I> leaves Battery Park behind, slides down past Staten +Island and the Hook, and out into the Ambrose Channel, I'm feelin' sort +of low. I'd been lookin' our course up on the map, and, believe me, +from where New York leaves off to where the tip end of Florida juts out +into the Gulf Stream is some wide and watery jump. No places to get +off at in between, so far as I can dope out. It's just a case of +buttin' right out into the Atlantic and keepin' on and on. +</P> + +<P> +We hadn't got past Scotland Lightship before the <I>Agnes</I> begins that +monotonous heave-and-drop stunt. Course, it ain't any motion worth +mentionin', but somehow it sort of surprises you to find that it keeps +up so constant. It's up and down, up and down, steady as the tick of a +clock; and every time you glance over the rail or through a porthole +you see it's quite a ride you take. I didn't mind goin' up a bit; it's +that blamed feelin' of bein' let down that's annoyin'. +</P> + +<P> +For a while there I was more or less busy helping Old Hickory get his +floating office straightened out and taking down a few code messages +for the wireless man to send back to the general offices while we was +still within easy strikin' distance. It was when I planted myself in a +wicker chair 'way back by the stern, and begun watchin' that slow, +regular lift and dip of the deck, that I felt this lump come in my +throat and begun wonderin' what it was I'd had for lunch that I +shouldn't. My head felt kind of mean, too, sort of dull and throbby, +and I expect I wasn't as ruddy in the face as I might have been. +</P> + +<P> +Then up comes Vee, lookin' as fresh and nifty as if she was just +steppin' out on the Avenue; and before I can duck behind anything she's +spotted me. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Torchy," says she, "you don't mean to say you're feeling badly +already! Or is it because you're leaving New York?" +</P> + +<P> +Then I saw my alibi. I sighs and gazes mushy hack towards the land. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't help it," says I. "I think a heap of that little old burg. +It—it's been mother and father to me—all that sort of thing. I've +hardly ever been away from it, you know, and I—I—" Here I smiles sad +and makes a stab at swallowin' the lump. +</P> + +<P> +"What a goose!" says Vee, but pats me soothin' on the shoulder. "Come, +let's do a few turns around the deck." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," says I, "but I guess I'd better just sit here quiet and—and +try to forget." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" says Vee. "That's a silly way to act. Besides, you ought +to tramp around and get the feel of the boat. You'll be noticing the +motion if you don't." +</P> + +<P> +"Pooh!" says I. "What this old boat does is beneath my notice. She's +headed away from Broadway, that's all I know about her. But if you +want someone to trail around the deck with, I'm ready. Only I ain't +apt to be very cheerful, not for a while yet." +</P> + +<P> +Say, that dope of Vee's about gettin' the feel of the boat was a good +hunch. Once you get it in your legs the soggy feelin' under your vest +begins to let up. Also your head clears. Why, inside of half an hour +I'm steppin' out brisk with my chin up, breathin' in great chunks of +salt air and meetin' that heave of the deck as natural as if I'd walked +on rubber pavements all my life. After that, whenever I got to havin' +any of them up and down sensations in the plumbin' department, I dashed +for the open air and walked it down. +</P> + +<P> +Lucky I could, too; for about Friday afternoon we ran into some weather +that was the real thing. It had been cloudy most of the mornin', with +the wind makin' up, and around three o'clock there was whitecaps as far +as you could see. Nothin' monotonous or reg'lar about the motion of +the <I>Agnes</I> then. She'd lift up on one of them big waves like she was +stretchin' her neck to see over the top; then, as it rolled under her, +she'd tip to one side until it looked like she was tryin' to spill us, +and she'd slide down into a soapsudsy hollow until she met a solid wall +of green water. +</P> + +<P> +"This is what we generally get off Hatteras," says Vee, who has shown +up in a green oiled silk outfit and has joined me in a sheltered spot +under the bridge. "Isn't it perfectly gorgeous?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right for once," says I, "providin' it don't last too long. +Everyone below enjoyin' it, are they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Auntie's been in her berth for hours," says Vee. "She never takes +any chances. But Mrs. Mumford tried to sit up and crochet. Helma's +trying to take care of her, and she can hardly hold her head up. They +are both quite sure they're going to die at once. You should hear them +taking on." +</P> + +<P> +"How is it this don't get you, too?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"I've always been a good sailor," says Vee. "And, anyway, a storm is +too thrilling to waste the time being seasick. I always want to stay +up around, too, and repeat that little verse of Kipling's. You know— +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'When the cabin portholes are dark and green,<BR> + Because of the seas outside,<BR> +When the ship goes wop with a wiggle between,<BR> +And the cook falls into the soup tureen,<BR> + And the trunks begin to slide—' +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Doesn't that just describe it, though—that 'wop with a wiggle +between'?" +</P> + +<P> +"As good as a thousand feet of film," says I. "Kip must have had some +of this fun himself. Here comes a wop for us. There! Great, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +I hope I made it convincin'; but, as a matter of fact, I had to force +the enthusiasm a bit. +</P> + +<P> +Not that I was scared, exactly: but now and then, when the <I>Agnes</I> +sidled downhill and buried the whole front end of her in a wave that +looked like a side elevation of the Flatiron Building, I'd have a +panicky thought as to whether some time she wouldn't forget to come up +again. +</P> + +<P> +She never did, though. No matter how hard she was soused under, she'd +shake it off with a shiver and go on climbin' up again patient. There +was several vacant chairs at the dinner-table, and when I finally +crawled into my bunk about 9:30 I had to brace myself to keep from +bein' slopped out on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +I was wonderin' whether I'd be too sick to answer the shipwreck call +when it came, and I tried to figure out how I'd feel bouncin' around on +them skyscraper waves draped in thin pajamas and a life belt, until I +must have dropped off to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +And, take it from me, when I woke up and saw the good old sunshine +streamin' in through the porthole, and discovered that I was still +alive and had an appetite for breakfast, I was as thankful a private +sec. as ever tore open a pay envelope. +</P> + +<P> +By the time I got dressed and found that the Agnes was doin' only the +gentle wallow act, with the wop and wiggle left out, I begun to get +chesty. I decides that I'm some grand little sailor myself, and I +looks around for a willin' ear that I can whisper the news into. +</P> + +<P> +The only person on deck, though, is Captain Rupert Killam, who's pacin' +up and down, lookin' mysterious, as usual. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Cap," says I. "Looked like it was goin' to be a little rough +for a spell there last night, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rough?" says he. "Oh, we did have a little bobble off Hatteras—just +a bobble." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says I. "I don't expect you'd admit anything's happenin' until +a boat begins to turn flip-flops. Do you know, Rupert, there's times +when you make me sad in the spine. Honest, now, you didn't invent the +ocean, did you?" +</P> + +<P> +But Rupert just stares haughty and walks off. +</P> + +<P> +I've been afraid all along he didn't appreciate me; in fact, ever since +he first showed up at the Corrugated, and I kidded him about his buried +treasure tale, he's looked on me with a cold and suspicious eye. +</P> + +<P> +Course, that's his specialty, workin' up suspicions. He's been at it +right along, ever since the <I>Agnes</I> was tied loose from her pier, and +outside of Auntie and Mr. Ellins, who are backin' this treasure hunt, I +don't think there's a single party aboard that he hasn't given the +sleuthy once-over to. +</P> + +<P> +I understand he was dead set against takin' any outsiders along from +the first, even protestin' against Mrs. Mumford and old Professor +Leonidas Barr. I expect his merry little idea is that they might get +their heads together, steal the map showin' where all that pirate gold +is buried, murder the rest of us, and dig up the loot themselves. +Something like that. +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, Rupert is always snoopin' around, bobbin' out unexpected and +pussy-footin' up behind you when you're talkin' to anyone. I didn't +notice his antics the first day or so, but after that he sort of got on +my nerves—specially after the weather quit actin' up and it come off +warmer. Then folks got thicker on the rear deck. Mrs. Mumford with +her crochet, Auntie with her correspondence pad, the Professor with his +books, and so on, which was why me and Vee took to huntin' for little +nooks where we could have private chats. You know how it is. +</P> + +<P> +There was one place 'way up in the bow, between the big anchors, and +another on the little boat deck, right back of the bridge. But, just +as we'd get nicely settled, we'd hear a creak-creak, and here would +come Rupert nosing around. +</P> + +<P> +"Lookin' for anybody special?" I'd ask him. +</P> + +<P> +"Why—er—no," says Rupert. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you'll find 'em in the main saloon," says I, "two flights down. +Mind your step." +</P> + +<P> +But you couldn't discourage Captain Killam that way. Next time it +would be the same old story. +</P> + +<P> +"Of all the gutta-percha ears!" says I to Vee. "He must think we're +plottin' something deep." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's pretend we are," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Or give him a steer that'll keep him busy, eh?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +So you see it started innocent enough. I worked out the details durin' +the night, and next mornin' my first move is to make the plant. First +I hunts up Old Hickory's particular friend, J. Dudley Simms, him with +the starey eyes and the twisted smile. For some reason or other, +Rupert hadn't bothered him much. Too simple in the face, I expect. +</P> + +<P> +But Dudley ain't half so simple as he looks or listens. In his own +particular way he seems to be enjoyin' this yachtin' trip huge, just +loafin' around elegant in his white flannels, smokin' cigarettes +continual, soppin' up brandy-and-soda at reg'lar intervals, and +entertainin' Mr. Ellins with his batty remarks. +</P> + +<P> +The only thing that appears to bother Dudley at all about bein' cut off +this way from the world in general is the lack of a stock ticker +aboard. Seems he'd loaded up with a certain war baby before sailing +and while the deal wouldn't either make or break him, he had a sportin' +interest in which way the market was waverin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, how do you guess Consolidated Munitions closed yesterday?" I +asks. +</P> + +<P> +Dudley shakes his head mournful. +</P> + +<P> +"I dreamed last night of seeing a flock of doves," says he. "That's a +bad sign. I'd give a dollar for a glimpse at a morning paper." +</P> + +<P> +"They say Charleston's only a couple hundred miles off there," says I. +"If it wasn't so soggy walkin' I'd run in and get you one." +</P> + +<P> +"No," says he; "you'd be late for breakfast. I wonder if our wireless +man couldn't get in touch with some of the shore stations." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure he could," says I, "but don't let on what stock you're plungin' +on. His name's Meyers. He's a hyphen, you know. And if he got wise +to your havin' war-baby shares he'd likely hold out on you. But you +might jolly him into gettin' a general quotation list. I'd stick +around this forenoon if I was you." +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" says J. Dudley. "I will." +</P> + +<P> +And maybe you know how welcome any new way of killin' time can be when +you're out on a boat with nothin' doin' but three or four calls to grub +a day. Dudley goes it strong. He plants himself in a chair just +outside the wireless man's little coop, and begins feedin' Meyers +monogrammed cigarettes and frivolous anecdotes of his past life. +</P> + +<P> +Havin' the scene set like that made it easy. All I has to do is sketch +out the plot to Vee and wait for Rupert to come gum-shoein' around. +</P> + +<P> +"Just follow my lead, that's all," says I, as we fixes some seat +cushions in the shade of one of the lifeboats on the upper deck. "And +when you spot him—" +</P> + +<P> +"He's coming up now," whispers Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Then here goes for improvisin' a mystery," says I. "Is he near +enough?" +</P> + +<P> +Vee glances over her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on," says she. Then, a bit louder: "Tell—tell me the worst, +Torchy." +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't sure yet," says I, "but take it from me there's something +bein' hatched on this yacht besides cold-storage eggs." +</P> + +<P> +"Hatched?" says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-s-sh!" says I. "Underhanded work; mutiny, maybe." +</P> + +<P> +"O-o-o-oh!" says Vee, givin' a little squeal. "Who could do anything +like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not saying," says I; "but there's a certain party who ain't just +what he seems. You'd never guess, either. But just keep your eye on +J. Dudley." +</P> + +<P> +"Wh-a-at!" gasps Vee. "Mr. Simms?" +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh," says I. "Listen. He knows about Nunca Secos Key, don't he? +And about the gold and jewels there?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's so," says Vee. "But so do all of us. Only we don't know just +where the island is." +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose Dudley had buffaloed Old Hickory into showin' him the map?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" demands Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't it be easy enough," I goes on, "if he had pals ashore, to +pass on the description, have them start out in a fast yacht from New +Orleans or Key West, and beat us to it?" +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't see," says Vee, "how he could get word to them." +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" says I, pointin' to the wireless gridiron over our heads. +"Where do you guess he is now?" +</P> + +<P> +Vee shakes her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Gettin' in his fine work with Meyers," says I. "He's been at it ever +since breakfast." +</P> + +<P> +"Think of that!" says Vee. "And you believe he means to—" +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-s-sh!" says I. "Someone might be rubberin'." +</P> + +<P> +Does it work? Say, when I gets up to scout around, Rupert has +disappeared, and for the first time since we've been aboard be leaves +us alone for the rest of the forenoon. We didn't hate that exactly. +Vee reads some out of a book, draws sketches of me, and we has long +talks about—well, about a lot of things. +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, I'm strong for this yacht-cruisin' stuff when there's no Rupert +interference. It's so sort of chummy. And with a girl like Vee, to +share it with—well, I don't care how long it lasts, that's all. +</P> + +<P> +And the next thing we knows there goes the luncheon gong. As we climbs +down to the main deck where we can get a view forward, Vee gives me a +nudge and snickers. J. Dudley Simms is still roostin' alongside the +wireless cabin; and just beyond, crouched behind a stanchion with one +ear juttin' out, is Captain Killam. +</P> + +<P> +"Fine!" says I. "Rupert's got a steady job, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +About then the other folks commence mobilizin' for a drive on the +dinin'-room, and someone calls Dudley to come along. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a moment," says he, scribblin' on a pad. "There!" and he hands a +message over to Meyers. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha, ha!" says a hoarse voice behind him. +</P> + +<P> +Then things happened quick. Rupert makes a sudden pounce. He grabs +Dudley, pinnin' his arms to his sides, and starts weavin' a rope around +him. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I say!" says Dudley. "What the deuce?" +</P> + +<P> +"Traitor!" hisses Rupert dramatic. "You will, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +J. Dudley may look like a Percy boy, too, but he ain't one to stand +bein' wrapped up like a parcels-post package, or for the hissin' +act—not when he's in the dark as to what it's all about. He just +naturally cuts loose with the rough stuff himself. A skillful squirm +or two, and he gets his elbows loose. Then, when he gets a close-up of +who's tryin' to snare him, he pushes a snappy left in on Rupert's nose. +</P> + +<P> +"Go away, fellow!" remarks Dudley. +</P> + +<P> +"Snake in the grass!" says Rupert. +</P> + +<P> +Then they clinched and begun rollin' over on the deck, clawin' each +other. Course, Mrs. Mumford lets out a few frantic squeals and slumps +in a faint. Professor Leonidas Barr starts wringin' his hands and +groaning "Oh, dear! Oh, dear, dear!" Auntie, she just stands there +gaspin' and tryin' to unlimber her lorgnette. +</P> + +<P> +As for Old Hickory, he watches the proceedings breathless for a second +or so before he can make out what's happenin'. Then he roars: +</P> + +<P> +"Hey, stop 'em, somebody! Stop 'em, I say!" +</P> + +<P> +That listened to me like my cue, and while I've never been strong for +mixin' in a muss, I jumped into this one lively. And between me and +the deck steward haulin' one way, and Meyers and Mr. Ellins pullin' the +other, we finally pries 'em apart, breathin' hard and glarin' menacin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, in the name of Mars," demands Old Hickory, "what the sulphuretted +syntax is this all about? Come, Captain Killam, you started this; tell +us why." +</P> + +<P> +"He—he's a traitor, that's why!" pants Rupert, pointin' at Dudley. +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" says Old Hickory. "Whaddye mean, traitor?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's plotting to send confederates to Nunca Secos Key before we get +there," says Rupert. "Plotting to steal our buried treasure. See! He +was just sending a message to some of his gang." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh!" snorts Mr. Ellins. "A message?" +</P> + +<P> +Meyers fishes it out of his pocket and hands it over. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says Old Hickory, puzzlin' it out. "'Advise how infant is +doing. Send care yacht <I>Agnes</I>, off Charleston.' Dudley, what infant +is this?" +</P> + +<P> +Dudley grins sheepish. "Consolidated Munitions," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says Old Hickory. "A war infant, eh? I see." Then he whirls on +Rupert. "And by what idiotic inference, Killam, did you conjure up +this rubbish about a plot?" +</P> + +<P> +Rupert, he turns and stares indignant at me. Old Hickory follows the +accusin' look, and next thing I know I'm in the spot light for fair. +</P> + +<P> +"Hah!" observes Mr. Ellins. "You, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Now, there's only one rule I got for dealin' with the big boss. I +stick to facts and make 'em snappy. +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh," says I. "Me." +</P> + +<P> +"You thought it humorous, I presume," he goes on, "to tell this silly +yarn to Captain Killam?" +</P> + +<P> +"But he didn't," speaks up Vee. "He was telling it to me; that is, we +were telling it to each other—making it up as we went along. So +there!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says Mr. Ellins. "And the Captain happened to overhear, did he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Happened!" says I. "Like you happen to climb a fire-escape. That's +Rupert's long suit—overhearin' things. He's been favorin' us a lot +lately." +</P> + +<P> +"What about that, Killam?" asks Mr. Ellins. +</P> + +<P> +"Why—er—ah—" stutters Rupert, "perhaps I have. But when you see two +persons getting off by themselves and talking so much together, you +naturally—" +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" explodes Old Hickory. "Can't you remember back to nineteen, +Killam?" Then he turns to me. "So you concocted this plot story for +Captain Killam's benefit, did you?" +</P> + +<P> +I nods. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought it would keep him off our heels for a while," says I. "I +fed him an earful, I guess." +</P> + +<P> +"Young man," says Mr. Ellins, shakin' a forefinger at me, but lettin' +his left eyelid drop knowin', "the next time I find that imagination of +yours running loose I—I'll authorize Captain Killam to catch it and +put it in irons. Now let's have luncheon." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHEN THE NAVY HORNED IN +</H3> + + +<P> +One thing about this yacht-cruisin' act is how close a line you get on +the people you're shut up with. Why, this cross-mated bunch of ours +hadn't been out in the <I>Agnes</I> more'n three days before I could have +told you the life hist'ry of 'most everyone in the party. +</P> + +<P> +I knew that the late Mr. Mumford had been a noble soul who wore full +face lambrequins and was fussy about his food. From the picture Mrs. +Mumford showed Vee and me, I judged he must have looked like an upstate +banker; but come to get down to cases, she admits he was in the coal +and lumber business over in Montclair, New Jersey. +</P> + +<P> +About J. Dudley Simms I dug up all kinds of information. He'd been +brought up by an old uncle who'd made a million or so runnin' an ale +brewery and who had a merry little dream that he was educatin' J. +Dudley to be a minister. If he'd lasted a couple of years longer, too, +it would have been the Rev. J. Dudley Simms for a fact; but when uncle +cashed in, Dudley left the divinity school abrupt and forgot ever to go +back. +</P> + +<P> +I even discovered that Professor Leonidas Barr, the fish expert and Old +Hickory's cribbage partner, had once worked in a shoe store and could +still guess the size of a young lady's foot by lookin' at her hands. +But when it came to collectin' any new dope about Captain Killam, he's +still Rupert the Mysterious. +</P> + +<P> +Durin' them long days when we went churnin' steady and monotonous down +towards the hook end of Florida, with nothin' happenin' but sleep and +meals, 'most everybody sort of drifted together and got folksy. Not +Rupert, though. He don't forget for a minute that he's conductin' a +dark and desperate hunt for pirate gold, and he don't seem contented +unless he's workin' at it every hour of the day. +</P> + +<P> +Course, after he's pulled that break of tacklin' J. Dudley for a mutiny +plotter, Old Hickory shuts down on his sleuthin' around the decks, so +he takes it out in gazin' suspicious at the horizon through a pair of +field glasses he always wears strapped to him. Don't seem to cheer him +up any, either, to have me ask him frivolous questions. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you spot any movie shows or hot-dog wagons out there, Cap'n?" I +asks. +</P> + +<P> +He just glares peevish and declines to answer. +</P> + +<P> +"What you lookin' for, anyway?" I goes on. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing I care to discuss with you, I think," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Bing-g-g," says I. "Right on the wrist!" +</P> + +<P> +And then all of a sudden Mrs. Mumford gets hipped with the idea that +Rupert is sort of bein' neglected. Well, trust her. She's been a +sunshine worker and a social uplifter all her life. And no sooner does +she get sympathizin' with Rupert than she starts plannin' ways of +chirkin' him up. +</P> + +<P> +"The poor dear Captain!" she gurgles gushy. "He seems so lonely and +sad. Who knows what his past has been, how many dangers he has faced, +what ordeals he has been through? If someone could only get him to +talk about them, it might help." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not tackle him, then?" says I. "Nobody could do it better than +you." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, really now!" protests Mrs. Mumford, duckin' her chin kittenish. +"I—I couldn't do it alone. Perhaps, though, if you young people +would—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, we will; won't we, Torchy?" says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +I nods. Inside of half an hour, too, we had towed Rupert into a corner +beside the widow and had him surrounded. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, Captain," says Mrs. Mumford impulsive, "have you not led a +most romantic life?" +</P> + +<P> +Rupert rolls his eyes at her quick, then steadies 'em down and blinks +solemn. Kind of weird, starey eyes, them buttermilk blue panes of his +are. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I don't say much about it, as a rule," says he, droppin' his +eyelids modest. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" exclaims Mrs. Mumford. "I just knew it was so. One daring +adventure after another, I suppose, with no thought of fear." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I've been afraid plenty of times," says Rupert, "but somehow I— +Well, I've gone on." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't he splendid?" asks Mrs. Mumford, turnin' to us. "Just like a +hero in a book! But we would like to know from the very beginning. As +a boy, now?" +</P> + +<P> +"There wasn't much," protests Rupert. "You see, I lived in a little +town in southern Illinois. Father ran a general store. I had to help +in it—sold shingle nails, molasses, mower teeth, overalls. How I +hated that! But there was the creek and the muck pond. I had an old +boat. I played smuggler and pirate. I used to love to read pirate +books. I wanted to go to sea." +</P> + +<P> +"So you ran away and became a sailor," adds Mrs. Mumford, clappin' her +hands enthusiastic. +</P> + +<P> +"I planned to lots of times," says Rupert, "but father made me go +through the academy. Then afterwards I had to teach school—in a rough +district. Once some big boys tried to throw me into a snowdrift. We +had a terrible fight." +</P> + +<P> +"It must have been awful," says Mrs. Mumford. "Those big, brutal boys! +I can just see them. Did—did you kill any of them?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hit one on the nose quite hard," says Rupert. "Then, of course, I +had to give up teaching. I meant to start off for sea that winter, but +father was taken sick. Lungs, you know. So we sold out the store and +bought a place down in Florida, an orange grove. It was on the west +coast, near the Gulf. +</P> + +<P> +"That's where I learned to sail. And after father died I took my share +of what he left us and bought a cruising boat. I didn't like working +on the grove—messing around with smelly fertilizer, sawing off dead +limbs, doing all that silly spraying. And my brother Jim could do it +so much better. So I fished and took out winter tourists on +excursions: things like that. Summers I'd go cruising down the coast. +I would be gone for weeks at a time. I've been out in some fearful +storms, too. +</P> + +<P> +"I got to know a lot of strange characters who live on those west coast +keys. They're bad, some of them—kill you for a few dollars. Others +are real friendly, like the old fellow who told me about the buried +treasure. He was almost dead of fever when I found him in his little +palmetto shack. I got medicine for him, stayed until he was well. +That's why he told me about the gold." +</P> + +<P> +"Think of that!" says Mrs. Mumford. "He had been a pirate himself, +hadn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, hardly," says Rupert. "A tinsmith, I think he told me. He was +a tough old citizen, though—an atheist or something like that. Very +profane. Used chewing tobacco." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Mumford shudders. "And you were alone with such a desperado, on a +desert island!" she gasps, rollin' her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I can generally look out for myself," says Rupert, tappin' his hip +pocket. +</P> + +<P> +He was fairly beamin', Rupert was, for Mrs. Mumford was not only +lettin' him write his own ticket, but was biddin' his stock above par. +And all the rest of the day he swells around chesty, starin' out at the +ocean as important as if he owned it all. +</P> + +<P> +"At last," says I, "we know the romance of Rupert." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope it doesn't keep me awake nights," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at the bold, bad ex-school teacher," says I. "Wonder what +blood-curdlin' mind plays he's indulgin' in now? There! He's +unlimberin' the glasses again." +</P> + +<P> +It must have been about four o'clock, for I remember hearin' eight +bells strike and remarkin' to Vee what a silly way that was to keep +track of time. We was watchin' Rupert go through his +Columbus-discoverin'-Staten-Island motions, and I was workin' up some +josh to hand him, when he comes rushin' back to the wireless room. No, +we didn't stretch our ears intentional, and if we sidled up under the +cabin window it must have been because there was a couple of deck +chairs spread out convenient. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't that some kind of warship off there?" Captain Killam is +demandin' of Meyers. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait," says the operator, fittin' on his tin ear. "He's just +calling." Then, after listenin' a while, he announces: "He wants to +know who we are." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't answer," orders Killam. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, all right," says Meyers, and goes on listenin'. Pretty soon, +though, he gives out another bulletin. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the United States gunboat <I>Petrel</I>, and he's demanding who and +what. Real snappy this time. Guess I'd better flash it to him, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no!" says Rupert. "It's no business of his. This is a private +yacht bound for a home port. Let him whistle." +</P> + +<P> +It struck me at the time as a nutty thing to do, but of course I'm no +judge. I had a hunch that Rupert was registerin' importance and +showin' how he was boss of the expedition—something he hadn't a chance +to get over before. It ain't long, though, before Meyers begins +talkin' like he was uneasy. +</P> + +<P> +"He wants to know," says he, "if our wireless is out of commission, and +if it is why we don't run up a signal." +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" says Rupert. "These naval officers are too nosey. It'll do +this one good if we take no notice of him." +</P> + +<P> +"All the same," insists Meyers, "I think Mr. Ellins and the Captain +ought to know what's going on." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, very well," says Rupert. "I'll call them down and we'll talk it +over." +</P> + +<P> +Course, we had to clear out then, for it's a secret confab of the whole +executive committee that develops, includin' Auntie. But we got a full +report later. It seems Rupert was skittish about havin' naval officers +snoopin' around the yacht. For one thing, he don't want 'em to find +out that this is a treasure-huntin' cruise, on account of the +government's bein' apt to hog part of the swag. Then, there's all them +guns stowed away below. He explains how this <I>Petrel</I> is a slow old +tub that he don't believe could overhaul the <I>Agnes</I> before dark. So +why not make a run for it? +</P> + +<P> +The reg'lar yacht captain was dead against anything like that. He +wouldn't advise monkeyin' with the United States Navy, if they was +askin' him. Better chuck the guns overboard. As for Old Hickory, he +was sort of on the fence. +</P> + +<P> +Who do you guess it was, though, that stood out for makin' the nervy +getaway? Auntie. Uh-huh! All this panicky talk by Meyers and the +yacht captain only warmed up her sportin' blood. What right, she +wanted to know, had a snippy little gunboat to hold up a private party +of perfectly good New Yorkers and ask 'em where they was goin'? Humph! +What was the government, anyway? Just a lot of cheap officeholders who +spent their time bothering our best people about customs duties and +income taxes. For her part, she didn't care a snap about the navy. If +the <I>Agnes</I> could get away, why not breeze ahead? +</P> + +<P> +I expect that proposition must have appealed to Old Hickory, for he +swung to her side at the last, and that's the way it was settled. They +decided to make no bones about what was up. Mr. Ellins calls us +together and makes a little speech, sayin' if anybody don't like the +prospect he's sorry, but it can't be helped. +</P> + +<P> +Then the crew gets busy. Black smoke begins pourin' out of the stack +and the engines are tuned up to top speed. All the awnin's are taken +in and every flag pulled down. The <I>Agnes</I> proceeds to hump herself, +too. +</P> + +<P> +"Twelve knots," reports Old Hickory, inspectin' the patent log. "The +Captain thinks he can get fourteen out of her. The <I>Petrel's</I> best is +sixteen." +</P> + +<P> +"At least, we have a good start," says Auntie, gazin' off where a thin +smudge shows on the sky line. "And before they can get near enough to +shoot they can't see us. I suppose they'd be just impudent enough to +shoot if they could?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," says Old Hickory. "We're outlaws now, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Who cares?" says Auntie, shruggin' her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +Say, I wasn't so much surprised at Mr. Ellins. He's spent most of his +life slippin' things over on the government. Auntie, though! A +steady, solemn old girl with her pedigree printed in the Social +Register. You wouldn't have thought it of her. +</P> + +<P> +"Some plunger, Auntie, eh?" says I to Vee. "She don't seem to care +what happens." +</P> + +<P> +"I never knew she could be so reckless," says Vee. "Getting us chased +by a warship! Isn't that rather dangerous, Torchy?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shouldn't call it the mildest outdoor sport there was," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"And the casual way she talks of our being shot at—as if they'd fire +tennis balls!" goes on Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't care for that part of the conversation myself," says I. "I'm +no hero, like Rupert. If there's any shootin' takes place, I'm goin' +to get nervous. I feel it comin' on." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't think Auntie and Mr. Ellins would let it go that far, do +you?" asks Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"It would be just like Auntie to fire back," says I. "What's a navy +more or less to her, when she gets her jaw set?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I wish I hadn't come on this old yacht," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"If I could row you ashore," says I, "I wouldn't mind stayin' to keep +you company. Look! That smoke off there's gettin' nearer." +</P> + +<P> +If Auntie and Old Hickory was pinin' for thrills, it looked like they +was due to get their wish. Just what would happen in case the <I>Agnes</I> +was run down nobody seemed to know. The only thing our two old sports +was interested in just then was this free-for-all race. +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, we had a fine evenin' for it. The ocean was as smooth as a +full bathtub, and all tinted up in pinks and purples, like one of +Belasco's back drops. Off over the bow to the right—excuse me, to the +starboard—a big, ruddy sun was droppin' slow and touchin' up the top +of a fluffy pile of cottony clouds back of us, that looked like they +was balanced right on the edge of things. Bang in the middle of that +peaceful background, though, was this smear of black smoke, and you +didn't have to be any marine dill pickle to tell it was headed our way. +</P> + +<P> +We groups ourselves on the after deck and watches. Everybody that +could annexes a pair of field glasses; but, even with that help, about +all you could see was some white foam piled up against a gray bow. Now +and then Rupert announces that she's gainin' on us, and Old Hickory +nods his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Only an hour until sunset, though," Auntie remarks. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," suggests Rupert, "we could change our course after dark +and slip into Miami Bay." +</P> + +<P> +"No," says Old Hickory, waggin' his head stubborn. "We will hold our +course right down through Florida Straits. We ought to make Key West +by morning, if we're not over-hauled." +</P> + +<P> +"If!" I whispers to Vee. +</P> + +<P> +Dinner was announced, but for once there's no grand rush below. Mr. +Ellins orders a hand-out meal to be passed around, and we fills up on +sandwiches while keepin' watch on that black smudge, which is creepin' +closer and closer. Don't take long for it to get dark down in this +part of the country after the sun is doused, but the stars shine mighty +bright. On the water, too, it seems so much lighter. +</P> + +<P> +Then the <I>Petrel</I> turns on a couple of search-lights. Course, we was +'way out of range, but somehow it seemed like them swingin' streaks of +light was goin' to reach out and pick us up any minute. For an hour or +so we watched 'em feelin' for us, gettin' a bit nearer, reachin' and +swingin', with the <I>Agnes</I> strainin' herself to slip away, but losin' a +little of her lead every minute. +</P> + +<P> +Must have been near ten o'clock when Rupert announces cheerful: "By +George! She's falling behind. Those searchlights are getting dimmer." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you're right," says Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour more and there was no doubt about it. +</P> + +<P> +"Humph!" says Auntie. "I was sure we could do it." +</P> + +<P> +And Mr. Ellins is so tickled that he orders up a couple of bottles of +his best fizz, so all hands can drink to the U. S. Navy. +</P> + +<P> +"Long may it wave," says J. Dudley Simms, "and may it always stick to +its new motto—Safety First." +</P> + +<P> +He got quite a hand on that, and then everybody turned in happy. As I +went to sleep the <I>Agnes</I> was still joggin' along at her best gait, and +it was comfortin' to know that our wrathy naval friends had been left +hopelessly behind. +</P> + +<P> +I expect I must have been poundin' my ear real industrious for five or +six hours when I hears this distant <I>boom</I>, and comes up in my berth as +sudden as if someone had pulled the string. Sunshine was streamin' in +through the porthole, and I was just wonderin' if I'd slept right +through the breakfast gong when <I>boom</I>! it came again. There's a rush +of feet on deck, some panicky remarks from the man up in the bow, a +quick clangin' of the engine-room bells, and then I feels the +propellers reversed. +</P> + +<P> +"Good night!" says I. "Pinched on the high seas!" +</P> + +<P> +I didn't waste much time except to throw on a few clothes; but, at +that, I finds Auntie scrabblin' out ahead of me and Captain Killam +already on deck. She's a picturesque old girl, Auntie, in a lavender +and white kimono and a boudoir cap to match; and Rupert, in blue +trousers and a pajama top, hardly looks like a triple-plated hero. +</P> + +<P> +"Nabbed!" gasps Rupert, starin' over the rail, at a gray gunboat that's +just roundin' in towards us. It's the <I>Petrel</I>, sure enough. +</P> + +<P> +"The idea!" says Auntie. "They were shooting at us, too, weren't they? +Of all things!" +</P> + +<P> +Then up pads Old Hickory in a low-necked silk dressin'-gown, with his +gray hair all rumpled and a heavy crop of white stubble on his solid +set jaws. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says he, takin' a glance at the <I>Petrel</I>. +</P> + +<P> +That's about all there is to be said, too. For it was odd how little +any of us felt like bein' chatty. We just stood around quiet and +watched the businesslike motions on the <I>Petrel</I> as she stops about a +block off and proceeds to drop a boat into the water. +</P> + +<P> +Projectin' prominent from one of her steel bay windows is a +wicked-lookin' gun about the size of a young water main, and behind it +a lot of jackies squintin' at us earnest. And you know how still it +seems on a boat when the engines quit. I almost jumps when someone +whispers in my ear. It's Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I hope Auntie's satisfied," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no tellin' about her," says I. +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, she wasn't fannin' herself, or sniffin' smellin' salts. I'd +noticed her hail a deck steward, and the next I knew she was spoonin' +away at half a grapefruit, as calm as you please. Mr. Ellins is +indulgin' in a dry smoke. Only Mrs. Mumford, when she finally appears, +does justice to the situation. She rolls her eyes, breathes hard, and +clutches her crochet bag desperate. +</P> + +<P> +The <I>Petrel</I> people were takin' their time about things. After they +got the boat in they had to let down some side stairs, and then the +sailors waited with their oars ready until an officer in a fresh +laundered white uniform gets in and gives the signal to shove off. Our +Captain has the companionway stairs rigged, too, and there ain't a word +passed until the naval gent comes aboard. He's rather a youngish +party, with a round, good-natured face, and he seems kind of amused as +he sizes up our bunch in their early mornin' costumes. +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me," says he, touchin' his cap, "but who is in charge of this +yacht?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I am," says Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit more than I," puts in Auntie. "And I want to tell you right +now, young man, that I consider your action in shooting off those guns +at us was—" +</P> + +<P> +"I presume you recognize the United States Navy, madam?" breaks in the +officer. +</P> + +<P> +"Not necessarily," snaps Auntie. "I don't in the least see why we +should, I'm sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly we do," corrects Old Hickory. "But, as Mrs. Hemmingway +observes, we dislike to be shot at." +</P> + +<P> +"Even though you couldn't hit us," adds Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +The officer grins. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, our gunners aren't as bad as that," says he. "We were merely +shooting across your bows, you know. I am Lieutenant Commander +Faulhaber, and it is part of my duty to overhaul and inspect any +suspicious acting craft." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you do it last night, then?" demands Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +"Because we blew out a cylinder gasket," says he. "The <I>Petrel</I> isn't +a new boat, by any means, and hardly in first-class shape. But we +managed to patch her up, you see." +</P> + +<P> +"Humph!" says Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +Honest, I was almost sorry for that naval gent before she got through +with him, for she sure did state her opinion, free and forcible, of his +holdin' us up this way. He stands and takes it, too, until she's all +through. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry you feel that way about it," says he, "but I shall be obliged to +make a thorough search of this boat, nevertheless. Also I shall +require an explanation as to why you disregarded my wireless orders. +Unless you can satisfy me that—" +</P> + +<P> +It's about there this cheery hail comes from J. Dudley Simms, who is +just appearin' from his stateroom, all dolled up complete in white +flannels. +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" he sings out. "If it isn't Folly. How are you, old man?" +</P> + +<P> +The lieutenant commander swings around with a pleased look. +</P> + +<P> +"Why—er—that you, Dud, old chap? Say, what are you these days? +Blockade runner, smuggler, or what?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're warm, Folly, you're warm!" says Dudley. "Hunting for buried +treasure, that's our game—pirate gold—all that sort of thing." +</P> + +<P> +And say, in less than two shakes he's given the whole snap away, in +spite of Old Hickory scowlin' and Auntie glarin' like she meant to +murder him with her grapefruit spoon. +</P> + +<P> +But the news don't seem to impress Lieutenant Commander Faulhaber very +serious. +</P> + +<P> +"Not really?" says he, chucklin'. "Oh? Then that's the reason for all +this mystery? Treasure hunting! Well, well!" And he grins more +expansive than ever as he takes another look around. +</P> + +<P> +Next he's introduced proper to everybody, and inside of ten minutes +we're all sitting down to breakfast together, while J. Dudley explains +how him and Folly has been lifelong chums. +</P> + +<P> +So we didn't get pinched, after all. +</P> + +<P> +"Although," says the lieutenant commander, as he starts back towards +the <I>Petrel</I>, "I suppose I ought to fine you for exceeding the speed +limit." +</P> + +<P> +The <I>Agnes</I> has got under way again, and we'd stopped wavin' good-by to +the jackies, when I catches a glimpse of a head bein' poked cautious +out from under the canvas cover of one of our lifeboats. Nudgin' Vee +to look, I steps up to Mr. Ellins, who's talkin' with Auntie and Mrs. +Mumford, and points out my discovery. By that time the head has been +followed by a pair of shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +Old Hickory just narrows his eyes and stares. +</P> + +<P> +"Why!" gasps Mrs. Mumford, "it—it's Captain Killam!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yep!" says I. "Rupert the Reckless. Only this trip he seems to be +playin' it safe, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"In hiding!" says Auntie. "All the time, too!" +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory, watchin' Killam crawl out and slip around a +corner. But say, Mr. Ellins can make that "Huh!" of his mean a lot. +He knows when he's been buffaloed, take it from me. My guess is that +Rupert's stock is in for a bad slump. I'd quote him about thirty off +and no bids. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AUNTIE TAKES A NIGHT OFF +</H3> + + +<P> +It looked like a case of watchin' out for the stick to come down. +Uh-huh! The good yacht <I>Agnes</I> had been tied to her anchor less than +half a day when this grand treasure-hunting expedition of ours showed +symptoms of collapse. It was weak in the knees, groggy in its motions, +and had fur on its tongue. If there'd ever been any stock issued by +the Ellins-Hemmingway Exploration and Development Company, I'll bet you +could have bought in a controllin' interest for two stacks of cigarette +coupons and a handful of assorted campaign buttons. +</P> + +<P> +You see, Old Hickory and Auntie had hung all their bright hopes on this +Captain Rupert Killam. They'd listened to his tale about a secret +mangrove island with a gold and jewel stuffed mound in the middle, and +they'd taken it right off the fork. His mysterious and romantic +motions had them completely buffaloed—at first. +</P> + +<P> +But on the way down here Rupert's reputation as a bold, bad adventurer +had gradually been oozin' away, like a slow air leak from a tire. His +last play of hidin' his head when the <I>Agnes</I> had been held up by a +gunboat had got 'most everybody aboard lookin' squint-eyed at him. +Even Mrs. Mumford had crossed him off her hero list. +</P> + +<P> +Just what his final fluke was I'm only givin' a guess at, but I judge +that when Mr. Ellins called on him to point out the pirate hoard, now +we were right on the ground, Rupert begun stallin' him off. Anyway, I +saw 'em havin' a little private session 'way up in the bow soon after +we got the hook down. By the set of Old Hickory's jaw I knew he was +puttin' something straight up to Rupert. And the Cap, he points first +one way, then the other, endin' by diggin' up a chart and gazin' at it +vague. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +I could hear that clear back by the bridge, where Vee and I were +leanin' over the rail watchin' for flyin'-fish. Also we are within +ear-stretchin' distance when he makes his report to Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +"Somewhere around here—he thinks," says Mr. Ellins. "Says he needs a +day or so to get his bearings. Meanwhile he wants us to go fishing." +</P> + +<P> +"Fish!" sniffs Auntie. "I shall certainly do nothing of the sort. I +want to tell you right here, too, that I am not going to humor that +absurd person any more." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't he just as wise as he was when you lured him away from the hotel +where I'd put him?" asks Old Hickory sarcastic. +</P> + +<P> +"I supposed you had a little sense then yourself, Matthew Ellins," +Auntie raps back at him. +</P> + +<P> +"You flatter me," says Old Hickory, bowin' stiff and marchin' off huffy. +</P> + +<P> +After which they both registers glum, injured looks. A close-up of +either of 'em would have soured a can of condensed milk, especially +whenever Captain Rupert Killam took a chance on showin' himself. And +Rupert, he was wise to the situation. He couldn't help being. He +takes it hard, too. All his chesty, important airs are gone. He +skulks around like a stray pup that's dodgin' the dog-catcher. +</P> + +<P> +You see, when he'd worked off that buried treasure bunk in New York it +had listened sort of convincin'. He'd got away with it, there being +nobody qualified to drop the flag on him. But down here on the west +coast of Florida, right where he'd located the scene, it was his cue to +ditch the prospectus gag and produce something real. And he couldn't. +That is, he hadn't up to date. Old Hickory ain't the one to put up +with any pussy-footin'. Nor Auntie, either. When they ain't satisfied +with things they have a habit of lettin' folks know just how they feel. +</P> + +<P> +Hence this area of low pressure that seems to center around the +<I>Agnes</I>. Old Hickory is off in one end of the boat, puffin' at his +cigar savage; Auntie's at the other, glarin' into a book she's +pretendin' to read; Mrs. Mumford is crochetin' silent; Professor +Leonidas Barr is riggin' up some kind of a scientific dip net; J. +Dudley Simms is down in the main saloon playin' solitaire; and Rupert +sticks to the upper deck, where he's out of the way. +</P> + +<P> +Vee and me? Oh, we got hold of a map, and was tryin' to locate just +where we were. +</P> + +<P> +"See, that must be Sanibel Island—the long green streak off there," +says she, tracin' it out with a pink forefinger. "And that is Pine +Island Sound, with the Caloos—Caloosa—" +</P> + +<P> +"Now sneeze and you'll get the rest of it," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Caloosahatchee. There!" says she. "What a name to give a river! But +isn't it wonderful down here, Torchy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly swell, so far as the scenery goes," says I. +</P> + +<P> +Course, it's a good deal like this 79-cent pastel art stuff you see in +the Sixth Avenue department stores. The water looks like it had been +laid on by Bohemian glass blowers who didn't care how many colors they +used. The little islands near by, with clumps of feather-duster palms +stickin' up from 'em, was a bit stagey and artificial. The far-off +shores was too vivid a green to be true, and the high white clouds was +the impossible kind that Maxfield Parrish puts on magazine covers. +And, with that dazzlin' sun blazin' overhead it all made your eyes +blink. +</P> + +<P> +Even the birds don't seem real. Not far from us was a row of these +here pelicans—foolish things with bills a yard long and so heavy they +have to rest 'em on their necks. They're all strung out along the edge +of the channel, havin' a fish gorge. And, believe me, when a pelican +goes fishin' he don't make any false moves. He'll sit there squintin' +solemn at the water as if he was sayin' his prayers, then all of a +sudden he'll make a jab with that face extension of his, and when he +pulls it out and tosses it up you can bet your last jitney he's added +something substantial to the larder. One gulp and it's all over. I +watched one old bird tuck away about ten fish in as many minutes. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" says I. "Every day is Friday with him. Or maybe he's got a +contract to supply Fulton Market." +</P> + +<P> +The entertainin' part of the performance, though, was when the bunch +took it into their heads to move on, and started to fly. They've got +little short legs and wide feet that they flop back and forth foolish, +like they was tryin' to kick themselves out of the water. They make a +getaway about as graceful as a cow tryin' the fox trot. But say, once +they get goin', with them big wings planed against the breeze, they can +do the soar act something grand. And dive! One of 'em doin' a +hundred-foot straight down plunge has got Annette lookin' like a +plumber fallin' off a roof backwards. +</P> + +<P> +No, there wasn't any gloom around our side of the yacht, though I'll +admit it don't take much of a program to keep me amused while Vee has +the next orchestra chair to mine. We took no notice of anybody's +grouch, and whether or not there was any pirate gold in the +neighborhood was a question we didn't waste thought on. We knew there +wouldn't be anything in it for us, even if there was. +</P> + +<P> +When the word was passed around that anybody that wanted to might get +out and fish, we was the first to volunteer. Seems this had been the +scheme right along—that our party was to do more or less fishin', so +as to give any natives that might be hangin' around the proper idea of +why we was there. +</P> + +<P> +Professor Barr is right on hand, too; and Dudley tries it just to kill +time. We did have more or less luck, and got quite excited. Vee pulls +in something all striped up like a hat-band, and one that I hooked blew +himself up into a reg'lar football after I landed him in the bottom of +the boat. The Professor had jaw-breakin' names for everything we +caught, but he couldn't say whether they was good to eat or not. The +yacht cook wouldn't take a chance on any of them. It was good sport, +though, and we all collected a fresh coat of sunburn. And say, with +them new tints in her cheeks, maybe Vee ain't some ornamental. But +then, she's easy to look at anyway. +</P> + +<P> +It was this same evenin', the second we'd been anchored quiet in behind +this lengthy island, that the big three of our expedition gets together +again. First I knew, I saw 'em grouped along the side where the +companionway stairs was swung—Auntie, Old Hickory, and Captain Killam. +Rupert seems to be explainin' something. Then in a minute or two the +men begin easin' Auntie down into one of the launches tied to the boat +boom, and the next I see them go chuggin' off into the moonlight. I +hunts up Vee and passes her the word. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you know about that?" says I. "Pikin' off for a joy ride all +by their three-somes!" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose Captain Killam has found where his treasure island is," says +Vee, "and is going to put it on exhibition. You know, he was out by +himself ever so long to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"He ought to be able to pick out something likely from among all of +these," says I. "Islands is what this country seems to be long on. +And they got a spiffy night for it, ain't they?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think Auntie might have taken us along," says Vee, a bit pouty. +</P> + +<P> +"We're no treasure hunters," I reminds her. "We're just to help out +the pleasure-cruisin' bluff. Who there is to put it over on I don't +quite catch, though. Ain't there any population in this part of the +map?" +</P> + +<P> +Vee thinks she can see a light 'way up the shore on Sanibel and another +off towards the mainland; but the fact remains that here's a whole lot +of perfectly good moonlight goin' to waste. +</P> + +<P> +"If one of the iron steamboats could only wander down here with a Coney +Island mob aboard," says I, "wouldn't they just eat this up? Think of +'em dancin' on the decks and— Say, what's the matter with our +startin' a little something like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Let's!" says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +So we had a deck steward lug the music machine up out of the cabin, set +J. Dudley to work puttin' on dance records, and, with Mrs. Mumford and +the Professor and half the crew for a gallery, we gave an exhibition +spiel for an hour or so. I hope they got as much fun out of it as we +did. Anyway, it tapped the long, long ago for Mrs. Mumford. I heard +her turnin' on the sob spigot for the Professor. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor, dear Mr. Mumford!" she sighs. "How he did love dancing with me. +And how wonderfully he could polka!" +</P> + +<P> +"She's off again!" I whispers to Vee. +</P> + +<P> +So we drifts forward as far away from this monologue about the dear +departed as we could get. Not that we didn't appreciate hearin' +intimate details about the late Mr. Mumford. We did—the first two or +three times. After that it was more entertainin' to look at the moon. +</P> + +<P> +For my part, I could have stood a few more hours of that; but about ten +o'clock Mrs. Mumford's voice gives out, or she gets to the end of a +chapter. Anyway, she informs us cheerful that it's time young folks +was gettin' in their beauty sleep; so Vee goes off to her stateroom, +and after I've helped J. Dudley Simms burn up a couple of his special +cork-tipped Russians, I turns in myself. +</P> + +<P> +Didn't seem like I'd been poundin' my ear more'n half an hour, and I +was dreamin' something lovely about doin' one of them pelican dives off +a pink cotton cloud, when I feels someone shakin' me by the shoulder. +I pries my eyes open, and finds one of the crew standin' over me, +urgin' me to get up. +</P> + +<P> +"Wrong number, Jack," says I. "I ain't on the night shift." +</P> + +<P> +"It's the young lady, sir," says he. "You're to dress and come on +deck." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I. "Have we been U-boated or Zepped? All right; I'll be +there in two minutes." +</P> + +<P> +And I finds Vee costumed businesslike in a middy blouse and khaki +skirt, stowin' things away in a picnic hamper. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the plot of the piece?" I asks, yawny. +</P> + +<P> +"Auntie and Mr. Ellins haven't come back yet," says she. "It's after +three o'clock. Something must have happened." +</P> + +<P> +"But Captain Killam is with 'em," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"What use is he, I'd like to know? Torchy, we must go and find them." +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't know any more about runnin' a motor-boat than I do about +playin' a trombone," I protests. +</P> + +<P> +"I do," says Vee. "I learned in Bermuda one winter. I have coffee and +sandwiches here. They'll be hungry." +</P> + +<P> +"Better put in some cigars for Mr. Ellins," says I. "If he's run out +of smokes I'd rather not find him." +</P> + +<P> +"Get cigars, then," says she. "I have the small launch all ready." +</P> + +<P> +"How about taking one of the crew?" I suggests. +</P> + +<P> +"Bother!" says Vee. "Besides, they've seen sharks and are all +frightened. I'm not afraid of sharks." +</P> + +<P> +You bet she wasn't; nor of being out at night, nor of startin' a +strange engine. You should have seen her spin that wheel and juggle +the tiller ropes. Some girl! +</P> + +<P> +"Got any clew as to where they are?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Only the general direction they took," says she. "But something must +be done. Think of Auntie being out at this hour! When we get past +those little islands we'll begin blowing the horn." +</P> + +<P> +It was sort of weird, take it from me, moseyin' off that way at night +into a tangle of islands without any signs up to tell you which way you +was goin', or anybody in sight to ask directions of. The moon was +still doin' business, but it was droppin' lower every minute. Vee just +stands there calm, though, rollin' the wheel scientific, pickin' out +the deep water by the difference in color, and lettin' the <I>Agnes</I> fade +away behind us as careless as if we had a return ticket. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me for remarkin'," says I; "but, while I wouldn't be strong for +this sort of excursion as a general thing, with just you and me on the +passenger list I don't care if—" +</P> + +<P> +"Blow the horn," cuts in Vee. +</P> + +<P> +Yep, I blew. Over miles and miles of glassy water I blew it, listenin' +every now and then for an answer. All I raised, though, was a bird +squawk or so; and once we scared up a flock of white herons that sailed +off like so many ghosts. Another time some big black things rolled out +of the way almost alongside. +</P> + +<P> +"What's them—whales?" I gasps. +</P> + +<P> +"Porpoises," says Vee. "Keep on blowing." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be qualified as captain of a fish wagon before I'm through," says +I. "Looks like that explorin' trio had gone and lost themselves for +fair, don't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"They must be somewhere among these islands," says Vee. "They couldn't +have gone out on the Gulf, could they?" +</P> + +<P> +We asked each other a lot of questions that neither one of us knew the +answer to. It sort of helped pass the time. And we certainly did do a +thorough job of paging, for we cruised in and out of every little cove, +and around every point we came to; and I kept the horn goin' until I +was as shy on breath as a fat lady comin' out of the subway. +</P> + +<P> +It was while I was restin' a bit that I got to explorin' one of the +boat lockers, and dug up this Roman-candle affair that Vee said I might +touch off. And it hadn't burned half way down before I spots an +answerin' glow 'way off to the left. +</P> + +<P> +"We've raised someone, anyway," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll know who it is soon," says Vee, turnin' the wheel. +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes later and we got a reply to our horn—four long blasts. +</P> + +<P> +"That means distress," says Vee. "Answer with three short ones." +</P> + +<P> +A mile or so further on, as we swings wide around the end of an island +where a shoal sticks out, we comes in sight of this big motor-boat +lyin' quiet a couple of hundred feet off-shore with three people in it. +</P> + +<P> +"There they are, thank goodness!" says Vee, shuttin' off the engine and +lettin' the boat drift in towards 'em slow. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, there!" I calls out. +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Torchy?" asks Old Hickory, anxious. +</P> + +<P> +"Yep!" says I. "Me and Vee." +</P> + +<P> +"Bully for you youngsters!" says he. "I might have known it would be +you two who would find us." +</P> + +<P> +"Verona, I am astonished," gasps Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I thought you would be," says Vee. "What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Matter!" snaps Auntie. "We're stuck in the mud, and have been for +hours. Look out or you'll run aground, too." +</P> + +<P> +But our boat wasn't half the size of theirs, and by polin' careful we +got alongside. +</P> + +<P> +My first move is to reach a handful of cigars to the boss. +</P> + +<P> +"Heaven be praised!" says he, lightin' one up eager. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Vee is pourin' out some hot coffee from the picnic bottles. +That and the sandwiches seemed to sort of soothe things all around, and +we got a sketch of their troubles. +</P> + +<P> +Just as Vee had suspected, Rupert had started out to show 'em the +island where the treasure was. Oh, he was sure he could take 'em right +to it. +</P> + +<P> +"And we went blithering and blundering around for half the night," says +Old Hickory, "until this marvel of marine intelligence ran us hard and +fast aground here, where we've been ever since." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I got turned around," protests Rupert. +</P> + +<P> +"We admit that," says Old Hickory. "I will even concede that you are +swivel-brained and couldn't help it. But that fails to explain why you +should invent for our benefit any such colossal whopper as that +treasure-island fiction." +</P> + +<P> +"No fiction about it," grumbles Rupert, his voice a bit husky, either +from indignation or chicken sandwich, we couldn't tell which. "And +I'll find it yet," he adds. +</P> + +<P> +"You will have ample opportunity," says Old Hickory, "for when we leave +here you will be left also. You may make a life job of it, if you +wish." +</P> + +<P> +"We ought to be getting back," says Auntie. "Will that little boat +hold us all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, this one is afloat now," announces Vee. "The tide must have come +in." +</P> + +<P> +"And here we've been sitting, like so many cabbage heads on a bench, +waiting for someone to come and tell us about it!" snorts Old Hickory. +"Excellent! Killam, do you think you can pilot us back without trying +to cut new channels through the State of Florida?" +</P> + +<P> +Rupert don't make any promises, but he gets busy; and pretty soon we're +under way. It's about then that I springs this hunch of mine. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Mr. Ellins," says I, "was this island you were lookin' for a +little one with a hump in the middle?" +</P> + +<P> +"That tallies with Captain Killam's description," says he. "Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," I goes on, "a little while before we located you we passed one +like that. Don't you remember, Vee?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's so," says Vee; "we did. I know right where it is, too." +</P> + +<P> +"We might take a glance at it," says Old Hickory. "Killam, give Miss +Verona the wheel." +</P> + +<P> +I couldn't have said exactly which way to go, but Vee never hesitates a +second. She steers straight back on the course we'd come, and inside +of fifteen minutes we shoots past a point and opens up a whole clump of +islands, with one tiny one tucked away in the middle. +</P> + +<P> +"That's it!" shouts Rupert, jumpin' up and down. "That's Nunca Secos +Key!" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe," says Old Hickory. "There does seem to be something of an +elevation in the center. Let's run in as close as we can, Verona." +</P> + +<P> +By this time we were all grouped in the bow, stretchin' our necks and +gazin' interested. +</P> + +<P> +"The mound!" suddenly sings out Rupert, pointin' excited. "The +treasure mound! I told you I'd find it." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says Old Hickory. "You forgot to mention, however, that you +would need Miss Verona and Torchy to do the finding for you." +</P> + +<P> +Well, no need goin' into details, but that's how Vee and me happened to +get counted in as reg'lar treasure hunters, to share and share alike. +We was elected right on the spot. +</P> + +<P> +"And now," says Old Hickory, grabbin' up a spade from the bottom of the +boat, "now we—" +</P> + +<P> +"Now we will go back to the yacht and get some sleep," announces +Auntie. "I've had treasure hunting enough for one night. So have you, +Matthew Ellins, if you only knew it." +</P> + +<P> +Old Hickory shrugs his shoulders. He drops the spade. Then he lets go +of a yawn. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well!" says he. "If that's the way you feel about it." +</P> + +<P> +"What!" says Vee. "Go another whole day without knowing whether—" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," cuts in Auntie. "I'm so sleepy I couldn't tell a doubloon +from a doughnut. Ho-ho-hum! Let's be getting back." +</P> + +<P> +It wasn't much after six when we made the yacht, but the whole crew +seems to be up and stirrin' around. As we comes alongside they sort of +groups themselves into a gawp committee forward, and I caught them +passin' the smile and nudge to each other. The two sailors that mans +the landin' stairs are on the broad grin. It's well for them that +neither Auntie nor Old Hickory seems to notice. I did, though, and +trails behind the others gettin' out. +</P> + +<P> +"What's all the comedy for?" I demands. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing at all, sir," says one. +</P> + +<P> +Then the other breaks in with, "Any luck, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure!" says I. "We saw a swell sunrise." +</P> + +<P> +I'm wonderin', though, why all them hired hands should be givin' us the +merry face. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PASSING THE JOKE BUCK +</H3> + + +<P> +I don't mind admittin' that this treasure-huntin' stuff does get you. +Course, while I was only an outsider, with no ticket even for a +brokerage bite at the gate receipts, I wasn't runnin' any temperature +over the prospects. +</P> + +<P> +But now it was different. Vee and I had gone out and shown this poor +prune of a Captain Killam where his bloomin' island was, we'd rescued +Auntie and Old Hickory from bein' stuck in the mud, and we'd been +officially counted in as possible prize winners. More'n that, we'd +seen the treasure mound. +</P> + +<P> +"Torchy," says Vee, the first chance we has for a few side remarks +after lunch that day, "what do you think? Is it full of gold and +jewels?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says I, tryin' to look wise, "it might be, mightn't it? And +then again you can't always tell." +</P> + +<P> +"But suppose it is?" insists Vee, her gray eyes bigger than ever. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't," says I. "It's too much of a strain. Honest, from what I've +seen of the country down here, it would be a miracle to run across a +single loose dollar, while as for uncoverin' it in bunches— Say, Vee, +how much of this pirate guff do you stand for, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, you silly," says she. "Of course there were pirates—Lafitte and +José Gaspar and—and a lot of others. They robbed ships right off here +and naturally they buried their treasure when they came ashore." +</P> + +<P> +"What simps!" says I. "Then they went off and forgot, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Some were caught and hanged," says she, "and I suppose some were +killed fighting. No one can tell. It was all so long ago, you see. +They're all gone. But the islands are still here, aren't they?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't miss any," says I. "There's the mound, too. It's big enough +to hold forty truckloads." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, there won't be that much," says she. "A few chests, perhaps. But +think, Torchy, of digging up gold that has been lying there for a +hundred years or more!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care how old it is," says I, "if it's the kind you can shove +in at the receivin' teller and get credit for. What you plannin' to +blow your share against?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hadn't thought much about that," says Vee. "Only that I once saw +the loveliest girdle made of old coins." +</P> + +<P> +Isn't that the girl of it! +</P> + +<P> +"You're a wonder, Vee," says I. "Here you stand to have a bundle of +easy money wished on you, and all you can think of is winnin' a fancy +belt." +</P> + +<P> +Vee giggles good-natured. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Mister Solomon, what would you do with yours?" +</P> + +<P> +"Swap it for as many blocks of Corrugated preferred as my broker could +collect," says I. "Then when we declared an extra dividend—" +</P> + +<P> +"Pooh!" says Vee. "You and Auntie are just alike." +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't it cheer Auntie up a lot to hear that?" says I. "I expect +she's busy spendin' her share, too." +</P> + +<P> +"I should say," announces Vee, "that we had all better be planning how +to get that treasure on board the yacht. Captain Killam says we +mustn't go there by day, you know, because someone might follow us. +Then there's the crew. I wonder if they suspect anything?" +</P> + +<P> +Come to find out, that was what we was all wonderin'. Course, Rupert +would be the first to develop a case of nerves. He reports that he's +come across groups of 'em whisperin' mysterious. Which reminds Auntie +that she'd noticed something of the kind, too. Even Mr. Ellins admits +that some of the men had acted sort of queer. And right while we're +holdin' our confab someone looks around and discovers that a sailor has +drifted up sleuthy almost within earshot. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey, you!" calls out Old Hickory. "What are you doing there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just touching up the brasswork, sir," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Do your touching up some other time," orders Old Hickory. "Forward +with you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir," says the party in the white jumper, and sneaks off. +</P> + +<P> +"Listening!" says Rupert. "That's what he was doing." +</P> + +<P> +"Who knows what they may be plotting," says Auntie, "or what sort of +men they are? Sailors are apt to be such desperate characters. Why, +we might all be murdered in our beds!" +</P> + +<P> +"As likely as not," says Rupert gloomy. +</P> + +<P> +And you know how catchin' an idea like that is. Up to then we hadn't +taken much notice of the crew, no more'n you do of the help anywhere. +Oh, we'd got so we could tell the deck stewards apart. One was a +squint-eyed little Cockney that misplaced his aitches, but was always +on hand when you wanted anything. Another was a tall, lanky Swede who +was always "Yust coomin', sir." Then there was the bristly-haired +Hungarian we called Goulash. They'd all seemed harmless enough before; +but now we took to sizin' 'em up close. At dinner, when they was +servin' things, I glanced around and found all four of our +treasure-huntin' bunch followin' every move made. The usual table +chatter had stopped, too. +</P> + +<P> +"Why!" says Mrs. Mumford, springin' that silly laugh of hers, "it must +be twenty minutes of." +</P> + +<P> +Nobody says a word, for Ole and Goulash was servin' the fish course. +You could see they was fussed, too. It was a queer sort of +dinner-party. I could tell by the look of Old Hickory's eyes that +something was coming from him. And sure enough, after coffee had been +passed, he proceeds to tackle the situation square and solid, like he +always does. He waves off the stewards and sends for Lennon, the yacht +captain. +</P> + +<P> +One of these chunky, square-jawed gents, Captain Lennon is, and about +as sociable as a traffic cop on duty. His job is runnin' the yacht, +and he sticks to it. +</P> + +<P> +"Captain," says Mr. Ellins, "I want to know something about your crew. +What are they like, now?" +</P> + +<P> +The Cap looks sort of puzzled. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, they're all right, I guess," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"Please don't guess," cuts in Auntie. "Are they all good, responsible, +steady-going trust-worthy men, on whose character you can absolutely +depend?" +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't say, madam," says he. "We don't get 'em from divinity +schools." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not," chimes in Old Hickory. "What we really want to know +is this: Do your men suspect what we are here for?" +</P> + +<P> +The Captain nods. +</P> + +<P> +"How much do they know—er—about the buried treasure, for instance?" +demands Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Lennon shrugs his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"About twice as much as is so, I suppose," says he. "They're great +gossips, sailors—worse than so many old women." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" grunts Mr. Ellins. "And about how long have they known all +this?" +</P> + +<P> +"I overheard some of them talking about it before we sailed," says the +Captain. "There were those new shovels and picks, you know; perhaps +those set them guessing. Anyway, they were passing the word from the +first." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ellins shakes his head and glances at Killam. Auntie presses her +lips tight and stares from one to the other. +</P> + +<P> +"This is serious," says Old Hickory. "Why didn't you tell us of this +before?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says Captain Lennon, "I didn't think you'd like it, sir. And +I've warned the men." +</P> + +<P> +"Warned them against what?" asks Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +"Against showing their grins above decks," says the Captain. "Of +course, I can't stop their having their jokes in their own quarters." +</P> + +<P> +"Jokes?" echoes Mr. Ellins. +</P> + +<P> +"Jokes!" gasps Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Lennon hunches his shoulders again. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you wouldn't like it, sir," says he; "but that's the way +they look at it. I've told them it was none of their business what you +folks did; that you could afford to hunt for buried treasure, or buried +beans, or buried anything else, if you wanted to. And if you'll report +one of them even winking disrespectful, or showing the trace of a grin, +I'll set him and his ditty bag ashore so quick—" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Captain," breaks in Mr. Ellins, kind of choky; "that—that +will be all." +</P> + +<P> +You should have seen the different expressions around that table after +the Captain has gone. I don't know that I ever saw Old Hickory +actually look sheepish before. As for Auntie, she's almost ready to +blow a fuse. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," says she explosive. "I like that! Jokes, are we?" +</P> + +<P> +"So it appears," says Mr. Ellins. "At any rate, we seem to be in no +danger from a mutinous crew. Our little enterprise merely amuses them." +</P> + +<P> +"Pooh!" says Auntie. "Ignorant sailors! What do they know about—" +</P> + +<P> +But just then there booms in through the portholes this hearty hail +from outside: +</P> + +<P> +"Ahoy the <I>Agnes</I>! Who's aboard there? Wha-a-a-at! Mr. Ellins, of +New York. Well, well! Hey, you! Fend off there. I'm coming in." +</P> + +<P> +"Megrue!" says Old Hickory. "If it isn't I'll—" +</P> + +<P> +It was, all right: Bernard J. Megrue, one of our biggest Western +customers, president of a couple of railroads, and director in a lot of +companies that's more or less close to the Corrugated Trust. He's a +husk, Barney Megrue is—big and breezy, with crisp iron-gray hair, +lively black eyes, and all the gentle ways of a section boss. +</P> + +<P> +He's got up in a complete khaki rig, includin' shirt and hat to match, +and below the eyebrows he has a complexion like a mahogany sideboard. +It don't take him long to make himself right to home among us. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" says he, workin' a forced draught on one of Old Hickory's +choice cassadoras. "Who'd ever think of running across you down here? +After tarpon, eh? That's me, too. Hung up my third fish for the +season only yesterday; a beauty, too—hundred and sixty-three +pounds—and it took me just two hours and forty-five minutes to make +the kill. But say, Ellins, this is no stand for real strikes. Now, +you move up to Boca Grande to-morrow and I'll show you fishing that's +something like." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, Barney," says Old Hickory, "but I'm no whaler. In fact, I'm +no fisherman at all." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I see," says Megrue. "Just cruising, eh? Well, that's all right +if you like it. People come to Florida for all sorts of things. Which +reminds me of something rich. Heard it from my boatman. He tells me +there's a party of New York folks down here hunting for pirate gold. +Haw, haw! How about that, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Embarrassin' pause. Very. Nobody dared look at anybody else. At +least, I didn't. I was waverin' between a gasp and a snicker, and was +nearly chokin' over it, when Old Hickory clears his throat raspy and +menacin'. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what about it?" he asks snappy. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says Megrue, "it seems too good to be true, that's all. As I +told the boys up at the hotel, if there are any real treasure-hunting +bugs around, I want to get a good look at 'em—especially if they're +from New York. That's one on you, eh, Ellins? Proves you have a few +folks in the big town who have bats in their belfries, don't it?" +</P> + +<P> +That gets an uneasy squirm out of Old Hickory, but he comes right back +at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Just why?" he demands. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, great Scott, Ellins," goes on Megrue enthusiastic, "don't you +know that buried treasure stuff is the stalest kind of tourist bait in +use on the whole Florida coast? The hotel people have been handing +that out for the past fifty years. Wouldn't think anyone could be +still found who'd bite at it, would you? But it seems they exist. +Every once in a while a new lot of come-ons show up, with their old +charts and their nice new shovels, and go to digging. Why, I was shown +a place just north of Little Gasparilla—Cotton River, they call +it—where the banks have been dug up for miles by these simple-minded +nuts. +</P> + +<P> +"Every now and then, too, they circulate that musty tale about an old +Spaniard, in Tampa or Fort Myers or somewhere, who whispers deathbed +directions about finding a chest of gold buried at the foot of a lone +palmetto on some key or other. And say, they tell me there isn't a +lone tree on this section of the coast that hasn't been dug up by the +roots. Good old human nature can't be downed, can it? You can +suppress the green-goods and gold-brick games, but folks will still go +to shoveling sand if you mention pirates to 'em. What I want is to see +'em at it once." +</P> + +<P> +The harder you jolt Old Hickory, though, the steadier he gets. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says he, smilin' sarcastic. "An ambition such as yours ought to +be gratified. Take a good look at us, Megrue." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha-a-a-at!" gasps Barney, starin' at him. "You—you don't mean +that—that—" +</P> + +<P> +"Precisely," says Old Hickory. "We are the crack-brained New Yorkers +you are so anxious to see." +</P> + +<P> +Well, when he recovers his breath he does his best to square himself. +He apologizes four different ways, gettin' in deeper with every turn, +until finally he edges towards the stairs and makes his escape. +</P> + +<P> +"At least," remarks Old Hickory, "I suppose it is something to provide +a source of innocent merriment. I trust we are not overlooking anyone +who might wish to be amused." +</P> + +<P> +Before the evenin' was over he had his answer. About eight-thirty out +comes a fast motor-boat and ties up alongside without askin' leave. +Reporters, two of 'em. They climbs up, grinnin' and amiable, specially +the fat one in the tight-fittin' Palm Beach suit. They wanted to know +when we was goin' to start digging and if we'd mind their bringin' out +a movie machine, so one of 'em could get a few hundred feet of film for +a picture news service that he represented. +</P> + +<P> +"It ought to be great stuff," says Fatty. +</P> + +<P> +"Young man," says Old Hickory, breathin' hard and talkin' through his +teeth, "have you any idea what a splash you'd make if you were dropped +overboard?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, come, guv'nor," protests Fatty; "we only want to—" +</P> + +<P> +About then, though, he decides to make a scramble for his boat and the +interview was off. Old Hickory stands glarin' after the pair until +they're out of sight. Then he chuckles unpleasant. +</P> + +<P> +"For a private, not to say secret, enterprise," says he, "it occurs to +me that ours is rather well advertised. What next, I wonder?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's a big boat headed this way on the other side," says I. "Seems +to me I hear a band, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Excursionists!" says Auntie. "Do you suppose they would have the +impudence?" +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like a moonlight round trip, with the <I>Agnes</I> as the object of +interest," says I. "Yep! They've got the searchlight on us." +</P> + +<P> +"This is insufferable!" says Auntie, and beats it below, to lock +herself in her stateroom. +</P> + +<P> +"Gr-r-r-r!" remarks Old Hickory, and follows suit. +</P> + +<P> +We never did trace out who had done such thorough press work for us; +but I have my suspicions it was the chief steward, who went ashore +reg'lar every morning after milk and cream. But the round-trippers +surely was well posted. We could hear 'em talkin' us over, shoutin' +their comments above the rumble of the engine. +</P> + +<P> +Vee and I didn't want to miss any of it, so we hikes up on the bridge +and camps behind the canvas spray shield. Captain Lennon come up, too, +sort of standin' guard. It was 'most like bein' under fire in the +trenches. +</P> + +<P> +"That's her—the <I>Agnes</I> of New York!" we heard 'em sing out. "My, +what a perfectly swell yacht, Minnie! Ain't they the boobs, though? +Hey, Sam, why dontcher ask them squirrels can they make a noise like a +nut? Huntin' pirate gold, are they? Who's been kiddin' 'em that way?" +</P> + +<P> +"Little sample of Southern hospitality, I expect," says I. "All they +lack is a few ripe eggs and some garden confetti." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if Auntie can hear?" giggles Vee. "Do you know what this +makes me feel like? As if I were a person in a cartoon." +</P> + +<P> +"You've said it," says I. "What I mind most, though, is that fresh +gink with the searchlight. Say, Cap'n, why couldn't we turn ours loose +at him as a come-back?" +</P> + +<P> +"Go ahead," says Captain Lennon, throwin' a switch. +</P> + +<P> +Say, that was a great little thought, for the <I>Agnes</I> has a +high-powered glim, and when I swung it onto that excursion boat it made +theirs look like a boardin'-house gas jet with the pressure low. You +could see the folks blinkin' and battin' their eyes as if they was half +blinded. Nest I picks up the pilot house and gives the man at the +wheel the full benefit. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey! Take off that light," he sings out. "I can't see where I'm +runnin'. Take it off!" +</P> + +<P> +"Switch off yours, then, you mutt," says I, "and run your cheap +sandwich gang back where they belong under the hominy vines." +</P> + +<P> +My, don't that raise a howl, though! They wanted to mob us for keeps +then, and all sorts of junk begun to fly through the air. Then Cap'n +Lennon took a hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Sheer off there!" he orders, "or I'll turn the fire hose on yon." +</P> + +<P> +Well, the excursion captain stayed long enough to pass the time of day, +but when he saw the sailors unreelin' the hose he got a move on; and in +half an hour we was lyin' quiet again in the moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +Must have been well on towards midnight, and I was just ready to turn +in when Mr. Ellins comes paddin' out of his stateroom, luggin' two +pairs of hip rubber boots. +</P> + +<P> +"Torchy," says he, "call Killam, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +By the time I'd routed out Rupert, I finds Auntie and Vee waitin' in +the main cabin, all dressed for travel. +</P> + +<P> +"I may be the oldest joke on record," says Old Hickory, "but I propose +to know before morning what is in that mound. Of course, if anyone +feels foolish about going—" +</P> + +<P> +"I do, for one," speaks up Auntie, "and I should think you would, too, +Matthew Ellins. We've been told how silly we are enough times +to-night, haven't we?" +</P> + +<P> +"We have," says Old Hickory. "Which is just why I propose to see this +thing through." +</P> + +<P> +"And I am quite as stubborn as you are," says Auntie. "That is why I +am going, too." +</P> + +<P> +Vee and I didn't put up any apologies. We just trailed along silent. +As for Rupert, he'd been kicked around so much the last few days that +he hadn't a word to say. Here he was, too, right on the verge of the +big test that he'd been workin' up to so long, and he's so meek he +hardly dares open his head. When we starts pilin' into the launch he +shows up with a couple of bundles. +</P> + +<P> +"What the syncopated seraphims have you there?" demands Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +"Gas bombs," says Rupert. "To clear out the snakes." +</P> + +<P> +"Careful with 'em," growls Old Hickory. "What else?" +</P> + +<P> +"A few canvas bags for—for the treasure, sir," says Rupert, duckin' +his head sheepish. "Shall—shall I put them in?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you might as well," says Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +And once more, with Vee at the wheel, we sneaks off in the moonlight +for Nunca Secos Key. We wasn't a chatty lot of adventurers. I expect +we all felt like we was about to open an April fool package, and wished +the others hadn't been there to watch. None of us could pass anyone +else the laugh; that was some satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +There was enough outsiders, though, to give us the titter. Megrue was +sure to spread the tale among Old Hickory's business friends. And who +knew what that pair of foiled interviewers would do to us? Some of +their stuff might get into the New York papers. Then wouldn't Mr. +Ellins be let in for a choice lot of joshin'! No wonder he sits +chewin' savage at a cold cigar. +</P> + +<P> +When we gets near the little island, though, he rouses up. He pulls on +a pair of wadin' boots and, tosses another pair to me. Rupert, he's +all fixed up for rough work, and even Vee has brought some high huntin' +shoes. +</P> + +<P> +So, when we lands, each takes a shiny new spade or a pick and makes +ready to explore the mound that looms mysterious through the mangrove +bushes. First off, Rupert has to toss out a couple of gas bombs, in +case there might be rattlers roamin' around. And, believe me, any +snake that could stand that smell was entitled to stay on the ground. +It's ten or fifteen minutes before we dared go near ourselves. Rupert +suggests that we start a tunnel in from the bottom, and sort of relay +each other as our wind gives out. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," says Old Hickory. "It's a good many years since I did any +excavating, but I think I can still swing a pick." +</P> + +<P> +Say, he could; that is, for a five-minute stretch. And while he's +restin' up I tackles it. I didn't last so long, either. Rupert, +though, comes out strong. He makes the sand fly at a great rate. Vee +stands by, holdin' an electric torch, while Auntie watches from the +boat. +</P> + +<P> +"We're makin' quite a hole in it, Mr. Ellins," says I, sort of +encouragin'. +</P> + +<P> +"It is the usual thing to do, I believe," says he, "before owning up +that you've been fooled. Here, Killam, let me have another go at that." +</P> + +<P> +He don't do it because he's excited about it, but just because it's his +turn. In fact, we'd all got to about that stage. We'd shoveled out a +wagon load or two of old roots and sand and rotten shells without +uncoverin' so much as a rusty nail, and it looked like we might keep on +until mornin' with the same amazin' success. Considerin' that we was +half beaten before we started, we'd done a pretty fair job. It was +just a question now of how soon somebody'd have nerve enough to make a +motion that we quit. That's when we had our first little flutter. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says Old Hickory, jabbin' in with his spade. "Must have struck +a log. Hand me a pick, someone." +</P> + +<P> +"When he makes a swing with that, the point goes in solid and sticks. +</P> + +<P> +"Right! It is a log," he announces. +</P> + +<P> +Killam tests it, and he says it's a log, too. +</P> + +<P> +"An old palmetto trunk," says he, proddin' at it. "Two of them, one +laid on the other. No, three. I say, that's funny. Let's clear away +all of this stuff." +</P> + +<P> +So we goes at it, all three at once, and inside of fifteen minutes we +can see what looks like the side of a little log cabin. +</P> + +<P> +"If this was out in Wisconsin," says Old Hickory, "I should say we'd +found somebody's root cellar. But who would build such a thing in +Florida?" +</P> + +<P> +"Come on," says Killam, his voice sort of shrill and quivery. "I have +one of the logs loose. Now pry here with your picks, everybody. +Together, now! It's coming! Once more! There! Now the next one +above. Oh, put your weight on it, Mr. Ellins. Get a fresh hold. Try +her now. It's giving! Again. Harder. Look out for your toes! And +let's have that light here, Miss Verona. Flash it into this hole. +Isn't that a—a—" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a barrel," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Water butt," says Killam. "An old ship's water butt. There are the +staves of another, fallen apart. And look! Will—you—look, all of +you!" +</P> + +<P> +Would we? Say, we was crowded around that black hole in the mound as +thick as noon lunchers at a pie counter. And we was strainin' our eyes +to see what the faint light of the torch was tryin' to show up. All of +a sudden I reaches in and makes a grab at something, bringin' out a +fistful. +</P> + +<P> +"Hard money," says I, "or I don't know the feel!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it—it's gold!" says Vee, bringin' her flashlight close. +</P> + +<P> +"There's more of it, a lot more!" shouts Killam, who has his head and +shoulders inside and is pawin' around excited. "Quarts and quarts of +it! And jewels, too! I say, Mr. Ellins! Jewels! Didn't I tell you +we'd find 'em? See, here they are. See those! And those! Didn't I +say so?" +</P> + +<P> +"You did, Captain," admits Old Hickory. "You certainly did. And for a +time I was just ass enough to believe you, wasn't I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Auntie!" calls Vee. "We've found it! Honest to goodness we have. +Come and see." +</P> + +<P> +"As though I wasn't coming as fast as I could, child!" says Auntie, who +has scrambled over the bow somehow and is plowin' towards us with her +skirts gripped high on either side. +</P> + +<P> +Thrillin'! Say, I don't believe any of us could tell just what we did +do for the next half hour or so. I remember once Old Hickory got +jammed into the hole and we had to pry him out. And another time, when +we was rollin' out the cask, it was Auntie who helped me pull it +through and ease it down the slope. She'd lost most of her hairpins +and her gray hair was hangin' down her back. Also, she'd stepped on +the front of her skirt and ripped off a breadth. But them trifles +didn't seem to bother her a bit. +</P> + +<P> +"Ho, ho!" she warbles merry. "Gold and jewels! The jewels of old +Spain and of the days of Louis Fourteenth. Pirate gold! We've dug it! +The very thing I've always wanted to do ever since I was a little girl. +Ho, ho!" +</P> + +<P> +"And I rather guess," adds Old Hickory, fishin' a broken cigar out of +his vest pocket, "that as treasure hunters we're not such thundering +jokes, after all. Eh?" +</P> + +<P> +And say, when Old Hickory starts crowin' you can know he sees clear +through to daylight. I looks over my shoulder just then, and, sure +enough, it's beginnin' to pink up in the east. +</P> + +<P> +"My dope is," says I, "that it's goin' to be a large, wide day. +Anyhow, it opens well." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TORCHY TAKES A RUNNING JUMP +</H3> + + +<P> +Course, it don't sound natural. A merry sunrise party is an event that +ain't often listed on the cards, unless it's a continuous session from +the evenin' before. But this wasn't a case of a bunch of +night-bloomin' gladiolas who'd lasted through. Hardly. Although +Auntie does have something of a look like the parties you see lined up +at Yorkville Court, charged with havin' been rude to taxi drivers; and +Mr. Ellins might have been passin' the night on a bakery gratin' with a +sportin' extra for a blanket. +</P> + +<P> +We was a long, long ways from either taxis or traffic cops, though. We +was on Nunca Secos Key, with the Gulf of Mexico murmurin' gentle behind +us, and out in front a big red sun was blazin' through the black pines +that edge the west coast of Florida. Five of us, includin' Vee and +Captain Rupert Killam and me; and each in our own peculiar way was +registerin' the Pollyanna-Mrs. Wiggs stuff. +</P> + +<P> +Why not? For one thing, it's about as handsome a December mornin' as +you could dream of—the air soft and mild, with a clean, salty smell to +it that sort of gives you a romantic hunch every sniff you pump in. +</P> + +<P> +But the big reason for this early-mornin' joyfest of ours— Well, +there's the pirate treasure, almost enough to load a pushcart with. +You know how you feel when you pluck a stray quarter from the L stairs, +or maybe retrieve a dollar bill that's been playin' hide-and-seek in +the gutter? Multiply that by the thrill you'd get if you'd had your +salary raised and been offered par for a block of industrials that had +been wished on you at ten a share, all in the same day. Then you'll +have a vague idea of how chirky we was at 5:30 A.M. as we stood around +in front of that mound we'd torn open, gawpin' first at the heap of +loot and then at each other. +</P> + +<P> +Simple way to pass the time, eh? But, somehow, we couldn't seem to +take it in that we'd actually done the trick. I know I couldn't. I've +always kidded myself along, too, that I was something of a speed artist +when it came to framin' up a situation. I expect we all hand ourselves +little floral offerings like that. But when we get up against anything +really new—that is, some sensation we ain't happened to meet +before—we find we ain't such hair-trigger propositions, after all. We +catches ourselves doin' the open-face act, while the little stranger +idea stands tappin' patient on the wood. +</P> + +<P> +Course, treasure huntin' was just what had lured us so far from home. +For nearly three weeks, now, that had been the big notion. But +cruisin' around in a yacht lookin' for pirate gold as sort of a freaky +lark is one thing, while actually diggin' it out and seein' it heaped +before you on the sand is another. +</P> + +<P> +Maybe Captain Killam was expectin' to carry the game this far. He's +just cocky enough for that. But it's plain to see that Auntie and Mr. +Ellins had been playin' a long shot just for the sport of holdin' a +ticket and watchin' the wheel turn. As for me and Vee, we'd +pooh-poohed the idea consistent from the very start, and had only been +let in along towards the last because we'd happened to be useful. I +don't know that we was any more staggered, though, than the rest of +'em. One sure sign that Old Hickory and Auntie was excited was the +fact that they'd begun callin' each other by their given names. +</P> + +<P> +"Cornelia," says he, "we've done it. We have achieved adventure." +</P> + +<P> +"In spite of our gray hairs—eh, Matthew?" says she. +</P> + +<P> +"In spite of everything," says Old Hickory. "True, we haven't been +shipwrecked, or endured hardship, or spilled any gore. But we have +outfaced a lot of ridicule. If the whiskered old sinners who hid away +this stuff had met as much they might have given up piracy in disgust. +Who knows?" +</P> + +<P> +With that Mr. Ellins snips the end from a fat black cigar, jams his +hands in his pockets, and spreads his feet wide apart. He's costumed +in a flannel outing shirt open at the neck, and a pair of khaki +trousers stuffed into hip rubber boots with the tops turned down. Also +his grizzly hair is tousled and his face is well smeared up with soot +or something. Honest, if he'd had a patch over one eye and gold rings +in his ears he could have qualified as a bold, bad buccaneer himself. +Only there's an amiable cut-up twinkle under them shaggy brows of his, +such as I'd never seen there before. +</P> + +<P> +"Killam," says he, "why don't you chortle?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I beg pardon?" says Rupert. +</P> + +<P> +He's sittin' on a log, busy rollin' a cigarette, and in place of his +usual solemn air he looks satisfied and happy. That's as much as he +can seem to loosen up. +</P> + +<P> +"Great pickled persimmons, man!" snorts Old Hickory. "Let's be human. +Come, we're all tickled to death, aren't we? Let's make a noise about +it, then. Torchy, can't you start something appropriate?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure!" says I. "How about doin' a war dance? Yuh-huh! Yuh-huh! Get +in step, Vee. Now we're off. Yuh-huh! Yuh-huh!" +</P> + +<P> +"Fine!" says Old Hickory, droppin' in behind Vee and roarin' out the +Sagawa patter like a steam siren. "Yuh-huh! Yuh-huh! Come, Captain. +Fall in, Cornelia. Yuh-huh! Yuh-huh!" +</P> + +<P> +Would you believe it? Well, Auntie does. I never thought it was in +the old girl. But say, there she is, her gray hair streamin' down over +her shoulders, her skirts grabbed up on either side, and lettin' out +the yelps easy and joyous. Even Rupert has to grin and join in. +</P> + +<P> +Round and round that treasure heap we prances, like so many East Side +kids 'round a Maypole in Central Park, with the yuh-huhs comin' faster +and louder, until finally Auntie slumps on the sand and uncorks the +only real genuine laugh I've ever known her to be guilty of. No wonder +Vee stops and rushes over to her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Auntie!'" says Vee. "What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Matter?" says Auntie, breathin' hard and chucklin' in between. "Why, +my dear child, I haven't done anything so absurd as this since—since I +was forty, and—and it has done me a world of good, I'm sure." +</P> + +<P> +What do you know about that? Admits she carried on as late as forty! +And here I'd supposed she was born scowlin' about the time tabasco +sauce was invented. Well, once more I got to revise my ideas about +her. Maybe she ain't any frostier underneath than the rest of us. +</P> + +<P> +"Allow me, Cornelia, to present you with the palm," says Mr. Ellins, +handin' her a palmetto leaf. "As a war dancer you betray evidence of +previous proficiency. Doesn't she, Torchy?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet she could have had Mrs. Sittin' Bull crowded into the back +drop," says I grinnin'. +</P> + +<P> +And Auntie returns the grin. +</P> + +<P> +You might know it would be Rupert who'd break the spell. +</P> + +<P> +"I am wondering," says be, "just how we are going to get all this +treasure on board the yacht without the crew knowing all about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Why wonder?" says Old Hickory. "Leave it to Torchy." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, say!" I protests. +</P> + +<P> +"No alibis," insists Mr. Ellins, slappin' me encouragin' on the +shoulder. "Strategy is what we want from you, young man. Plenty of it +under that brilliant hair of yours. We'll give you three minutes." +</P> + +<P> +And of course, havin' it batted up to me that way by the big boss, and +with Vee gazin' at me expectant, I had to produce. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll stand for any little tale I tell 'em, eh?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Absolutely," says he. +</P> + +<P> +So we gets to work with the dozen or more canvas sacks that Rupert has +been foxy enough to bring along. In the bottom we puts a shovelful of +sand; then we dumps in the gold pieces and jewels promiscuous, with +more sand on top, not fillin' any sack more'n a third full. That made +'em easy to handle, and when they was tossed into the launch there was +no suspicious jingle or anything like that. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later we was chuggin' away from the little natural jackpot +that we'd opened so successful, headed for the <I>Agnes</I>. And, believe +me, the old yacht looks mighty homey and invitin', lyin' there in the +calm of the mornin' with all her awnin's spread and a trickle of blue +smoke driftin' up from the forward galley. +</P> + +<P> +"Any orders?" asks Mr. Ellins, as we starts to run alongside. +</P> + +<P> +"I got a few words to say to them early-bird sailors that's +house-cleanin' the decks," says I. "I'm goin' to ask you to stay in +the boat, Mr. Ellins, and look worried. The rest can go aboard. +Captain Killam might rout out the chef and get action on an early +breakfast." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay, ay, Captain Torchy," says Old Hickory. "Here we are, with a +smiling reception committee to greet us, as usual." +</P> + +<P> +There was five in the scrubbin' squad, includin' the second mate, a +pie-faced Swede by the name of Nelse; and, while they seems mighty busy +with pails and mops and brass polishers, I notice they all manages to +drift over to our side of the yacht. You couldn't exactly accuse them +of wearin' grins, but they did look as though something amusin' had +occurred recent. Which shows we was still doin' duty as human jokes. +But that's just what I makes my play on. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as I can dash up the landin' steps, I beckons the second mate +to follow me aft. +</P> + +<P> +"Call your bunch back here, too," says I, "So there'll be no bonehead +plays made." +</P> + +<P> +Then, when I gets 'em together, I tips Nelse the knowin' wink. +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't supposed to know a thing about what's been goin' on +to-night, eh?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +Nelse, he shrugs his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Aye yust know about work," says he, lyin' free and easy. +</P> + +<P> +"That's a swell motto to pin on the wall," says I. "But listen, Nelse, +while I put a case to you. Suppose, now, you'd been tipped off that if +you dug under a certain bush in a certain back yard you'd find—well, +something worth luggin' away? Ah, never mind shakin' your head! This +is only supposin'. And we'll say the neighbors were wise; they'd +watched you go out with your spade and lantern. And after you'd near +broke your back diggin' you found you'd been buffaloed. Are you +followin' me?" +</P> + +<P> +Who says a Swede is all solid maple from the neck up? Nelse's +buttermilk blue eyes flickers with almost human intelligence. Some of +the men smother a snicker. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," I goes on, "we'll say you was sensitive about it. In order to +duck their frivolous remarks when you came sneakin' back, maybe you'd +be deceitful enough to bluff it through. You might lug something home +in the bag, even if it was only some loose real estate. I don't say +you would, mind you. You got such an honest, cash-register face. But +there are shifty parties who could do that and never bat an eye. I +ain't mentionin' any names." +</P> + +<P> +I didn't need to. To a man, they glances over the rail at Mr. Ellins. +</P> + +<P> +"Then that's all," says I. "Only you got to lay off with them merry +expressions when you lug those sacks aboard. Handle 'em careful and +reverent, and stow 'em in the main cabin where you're told. If you do +it well I expect there'll be more or less in it for all of you. Now, +then, got your cues, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +They salutes respectful. +</P> + +<P> +"Then get busy with the stevedore stuff," says I. +</P> + +<P> +And say, if they'd been coached by a stage manager they couldn't have +done better. Course, I did catch 'em passin' the wink to each other as +two of 'em marches across the deck holdin' a sack tender between 'em; +but that was when they knew nobody but me could see. While they was +down where Old Hickory had his eye on 'em, they was as solemn as +pallbearers. But I'll bet it wasn't many minutes after they got to +their own quarters before the hearty haw-haws was turned loose in four +different languages. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Auntie and Mr. Ellins has been lookin' on without gettin' the +plot of the piece. +</P> + +<P> +"I must say," Auntie comes out with, "that I see no very subtle +strategy about that performance. Those men must have suspected. What +did they think they were carrying on board so carefully?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sand," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +"You said you'd stand for it," says I. "And all you owe 'em is about +two apiece for helpin' you save your face." +</P> + +<P> +"My face, eh?" says Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +"Someone had to be the goat," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, to be sure," cuts in Auntie, beamin' good-natured again. "And I +think Torchy managed it very cleverly." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, Mrs. Hemmingway," says I. "Maybe you'll do as much for me +some time, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why—er—certainly I will," says Auntie, catchin' her breath a little. +</P> + +<P> +I had just sense enough to let it ride at that, for you can't push a +thing too far before breakfast. But I didn't mean to let this grand +little idea of mine grow cold. It struck me that, if ever I was goin' +to call for a show-down from Auntie, this was the day. +</P> + +<P> +So, when I finally turned in for a forenoon nap, I was busier plottin' +out just how it ought to be done than I was at makin' up lost sleep. I +ain't one of them that can romp around all night, though, and then do +the fretful toss on the hay for very long after I've hit the pillow. +First thing I knew, I was pryin' my eyes open to find that it's almost +1:30 P.M., and with the sun beatin' straight down on the deck overhead +I don't need to turn on any steam heat in the stateroom. +</P> + +<P> +A good souse in a tubful of salty Gulf water wakes me up all over, and +when I've dolled myself in a fresh Palm Beach suit and a soft collared +shirt I'm feelin' like Winnin' Willie. +</P> + +<P> +As it happens, Vee and I has the luncheon table to ourselves that day, +neither Auntie nor Mr. Ellins havin' shown up, and the others bein' all +through. And somehow Vee always does have that look of—well, as +though she'd just blown in from the rose garden. You know, kind of +clean and crisp and—and honeysuckley. Maybe it's that pinky-white +complexion of hers, or the simple way she dresses. Anyway, she looks +good enough to eat. Don't do to tell 'em so, though. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, Torchy," says she, chirky and sweet. +</P> + +<P> +"Wrong on two counts, young lady," says I, ticklin' her ear playful as +I passes. +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" says she, delayin' her attack on a grapefruit. "Just how?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's afternoon, for one item," says I. "And say, why not ditch that +juvenile hail? Torchy, Torchy! Seems to me I ought to be mistered +to-day. Someone ought to do it, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"Why to-day any more than yesterday?" asks Vee. +</P> + +<P> +I waits until the dinin'-room steward has faded, and then I remarks +haughty: "Maybe it ain't come to you that I'm a near-plute now." +</P> + +<P> +"Pooh!" says Vee. "You're not a bit richer than I am." +</P> + +<P> +"Boy, page the auditin' committee!" says I. "How strong do you tally +up?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure I don't know," says she. "Neither do you, Mister Torchy." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, I do," says I. "I've got just the same as you." +</P> + +<P> +Vee runs out the tip of her tongue at me. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the sort of disposition," says she, "which goes with red hair." +</P> + +<P> +"Towhead yourself!" says I. "What kind of a scramble has the cook got +on the eggs to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better order soft-boiled," says Vee. "I'll open them for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you?" says I. "Just this once, or does that stand?" +</P> + +<P> +"This—this is so abrupt!" says Vee, snickerin'. +</P> + +<P> +"You tell it well," says I. "Just as though I hadn't been doin' my +best to dodge the net! But what chance has a man got when he's +cornered at breakfast and she offers to— Ouch!" +</P> + +<P> +Vee springs one of them boardin'-school tricks of hers, shootin' a +teaspoonful of water accurate across the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Rough-houser!" says I, moppin' my eye with the napkin. "If your +Auntie can't train you, maybe she'll let me try." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no doubt she would," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"I might ask her," I suggests. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd love to be around when you did," says she, rollin' her eyes impish. +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin' I wouldn't dare, eh?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Vee only dabbles her pink finger-ends in the little glass bowl, and +chuckles like she was rememberin' something funny. +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose I did and got away with it?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +Vee gives me a quizzin' glance from them gray eyes, one of the kind +that sort of warms me up under my vest. +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't decorate you with the Victoria Cross," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"But would you take a chance on the results?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"One of the silly things I've learned from you," says Vee, lowerin' her +eyelids fetchin', "is to—to take a chance." +</P> + +<P> +"Vee!" says I, startin' to dash around the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush!" says she, wavin' me hack. "Here come your eggs." +</P> + +<P> +Say, what went on durin' the rest of the day I couldn't tell. I expect +it was a good deal the same kind of an afternoon we'd been havin' right +along, but to me it was three X double A with the band playin'. I was +light in the head and I had springs in my heels. Everything and +everybody looked good to me. +</P> + +<P> +I jollied Old Hickory into lettin' me tip the sailors that had lugged +the sacks aboard, and I threw in some of his best cigars just by way of +relievin' my feelin's. Whenever I passed Captain Rupert Killam I +hammered him on the back folksy and told him he sure was some +discoverer. I even let Mrs. Mumford feed me an earful about how the +late dear Mr. Mumford always remembered to send home a bunch of roses +on their weddin' anniversary. Rather than revisit the scene himself, I +suppose. +</P> + +<P> +But when it come to playin' opposite Auntie—say, I was right there +with the Percy-boy stuff: givin' her a hand up the stairs when she came +on deck, leadin' her to a chair on the shady side, and hintin' how she +looked mighty chipper after an all-night session such as we'd had. +Talk about smooth stuff! I had the inside of a banana peel lookin' +like a nutmeg grater. +</P> + +<P> +Auntie falls for it, too. She has me whisper in her ear just where the +treasure is stowed and how complete we'd thrown the crew off the trail. +I works up that sketch of my talk with the Swede second mate until I +had her shoulders shakin'. +</P> + +<P> +"What a boy you are!" says she, gaspy. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't overlook the fact that I'll be votin' next year," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"How absurd!" says Auntie. +</P> + +<P> +"We do grow up, you know," says I. "It's a habit we have. And now, +how about a glass of that iced pineapple the steward fixes so well? +Sure! Lemme fetch a couple." +</P> + +<P> +The climax was when she got me to holdin' a skein of yarn for her. As +Old Hickory strolls by and sees me with my hands stuck out, I thought +he was goin' to swallow his cigar. +</P> + +<P> +Still, I couldn't get just the right cue. Not that I'd mapped out +anything definite. I only knew I had something special and particular +to say to Auntie, but I couldn't spring it unless I got the proper +hunch. So the afternoon petered out, and the sun dropped into the +Gulf, and folks begun disappearin' to dress for dinner. +</P> + +<P> +The word had been passed that this was to be a special event to-night, +so it's full white flannels for the men and evenin' gowns for the +ladies. You see, we hadn't told the outsiders a word. In fact, they +didn't even know we'd been away from the yacht durin' the night. +</P> + +<P> +It's a swell feed the steward puts on, too, considerin' where we was. +Nothin' dry about it, either; for, while Mr. Ellins ain't a great hand +to overdo irrigation, he's no guide to the Great Desert. There was +silver ice buckets on the floor, and J. Dudley Simms lost a side bet to +Professor Leonidas Barr on namin' the vintage. He was five years too +young. +</P> + +<P> +Not until coffee had been served did Old Hickory give any hint that +this was to be a regular celebration, with post-prandial doin's. Then +he proceeds to chase out all the help, lockin' the doors behind 'em. +Next he has me pull the shades over the cabin windows. +</P> + +<P> +"Friends," says he, "you all know what it was that we came down here +for. It sounded foolish in New York, I acknowledge. Even in these +surroundings, our enterprise may have appealed to some of you as a bit +fantastic. But—Torchy, will you and Captain Killam bring those sacks?" +</P> + +<P> +Did we have 'em goggle-eyed? Say, when we dumped peck after peck of +treasure and sand in the middle of the dinner table, and they got to +pawin' over those weird old gold pieces and them samples of antique +jewelry, it was a knockout for fair. +</P> + +<P> +"My word!" gasps J. Dudley. "You must feel like successful bank +robbers." +</P> + +<P> +"Wonderful!" says Professor Barr, breathin' excited through his +whiskers. "Why, some of these doubloons must have been coined during +the reign of—" +</P> + +<P> +"Cornelia," breaks in Mrs. Mumford, "will you look at that old brooch. +It's exquisite!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then it is yours as a souvenir of the trip," says Auntie—just like +that. +</P> + +<P> +Next, Dudley and the Professor was asked to pick out a trinket. After +which Mr. Ellins suggests that they divide the loot into five equal +piles, and that we draw numbers to see who get which. Rupert wasn't +strong for this free and casual way of splittin' the gate receipts, but +he gives in. And when we each has our heap in front of us, with the +sand scraped into the middle of the cloth, Old Hickory has the glasses +filled once more, and starts up that pirate song of his: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest—<BR> +Yo-ho-ho! and a bottle of rum." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Right in the middle of the festivities, too, I takes my runnin' jump. +Pickin' out a quaint old ring from my collection, I slips around beside +Auntie and snuggles up confidential. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Torchy," says she, "what is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a big favor," says I. "See this? I want you to let me ask Vee +to wear this for—for keeps. Can I?" +</P> + +<P> +"You—you mean—" she begins. +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh!" says I. "Until some time I can fit one on—well, one that +the best man hands me. Come on, Auntie. Have a heart!" +</P> + +<P> +"You ridiculous boy!" says she. "If you must, though—" +</P> + +<P> +Say, I wasn't lookin' for that next move of hers. Think of it—Auntie! +And she lands one right on my cheek, too. Everyone sees it. And, +while I'm pinkin' up like a cranberry tart, Old Hickory sings out +gleeful: +</P> + +<P> +"Tut, tut, Cornelia! What is this all about?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," says Auntie, "that we must drink a toast to these +youngsters of ours. That is, if Verona insists on being so foolish." +</P> + +<P> +"How about it, Vee?" I whispers, capturin' her left hand. "Do we let +'em drink?" +</P> + +<P> +"Silly!" says she. "The other finger." +</P> + +<P> +It's a bit public, I admit. Might as well have hired a hall. But they +all seems to enjoy handin' us the jolly. Mr. Ellins makes a reg'lar +speech, tellin' how fond he is of both of us and how this event pleases +him more'n findin' the buried treasure. He winds up by askin' if +everybody ain't about ready to start back for New York. The vote is +unanimous. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not to-night?" asks J. Dudley. +</P> + +<P> +"To-night it shall be," says Old Hickory. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Mr. Ellins," I breaks out just then, "lemme pass the word on +that, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +And, when I gets the nod, I breezes out on deck and up to the Captain's +stateroom. +</P> + +<P> +"Cap," says I, "welcome words from the boss." +</P> + +<P> +"Sailing orders?" he asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Yep!" says I. "You're to tie her loose from Florida as quick as you +know how, and head her straight for the wet end of Broadway. Get me? +Broadway! Say, but don't that listen good?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A LITTLE SPEED ON THE HOME STRETCH +</H3> + + +<P> +And, speakin' of thrills, what beats gettin' back to your own home +town? Why, say, that mornin' when we unloads from the <I>Agnes</I> after a +whole month of battin' around, New York looked to me like it had been +touched up with gold leaf and ruby paint. Things seemed so fresh and +crisp, and all so sort of natural and familiar. And the sounds and the +smells! It's all good. +</P> + +<P> +Course, there wasn't any pelicans floatin' around in the North River, +nor any cocoanut palms wavin' over West Thirty-fourth Street. As our +taxis bumped us along, we dodged between coffee-colored heaps of slush +that had once been snow, and overhead all that waved in the breeze was +dingy blankets hung out on the fire-escapes. Also we finds Broadway +ripped up in new spots, with the sewer pipes exposed jaunty. +</P> + +<P> +But somehow them things are what you expect. And you feel that, after +all, there's only one reg'lar place on the map—here, where you can +either pay a nickel for a hot-dog breakfast off a pushcart, or blow in +ninety cents for a pair of yesterday's eggs in a Fifth Avenue grill: +where you can see lovely lady plutesses roll by in their heliotrope +limousines, or watch little Rosie Chianti sail down the asphalt on one +roller skate. +</P> + +<P> +Uh-huh! It's a great place to get back to, take it from me. Specially +when you hit it like I did, a two-way winner with a full-sized portion +of pirate loot, and Vee wearin' a ring of mine. +</P> + +<P> +And maybe I didn't enjoy driftin' into the Corrugated general offices, +with everybody, from fair-haired Vincent up to Mr. Robert, givin' me +the glad hail. Some different, eh, from the first time I struck there, +'way back in the early days? I was one of a bunch then, trailin' a +want ad; and when Piddie had us lined up, it looked like I'd be only an +"also ran" until Old Hickory pads past, discovered my pink thatch, and +has me signed on as office boy. +</P> + +<P> +Different! Why, inside of two minutes I begun to believe I was +somebody. Vincent starts it when he swings the brass gate wide, just +as I used to do for bank presidents. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning, sir," says he. "Glad to see you back, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"Vincent," says I, "there's two of us, then; only I'm glad all over." +</P> + +<P> +I hadn't counted on that row of lady typists, either. Honest, I never +faced such a battery of friendly smiles in all my more or less cheerful +career. Even Miss Muggs, who wears a business face that would have a +head undertaker lookin' frivolous, loosens up her mouth corners for a +second; while as for some of the other self-startin' queens—well, they +had me rosy in the ears, all right. I hurries past to where Mr. Piddie +is tryin' to make his ingrowin' dignity let loose its grip for a minute. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" says he. "Back from the sunny South, eh? And how did you find +Florida?" +</P> + +<P> +"Easy," says I. "We looked it up on the map." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no," says Piddie; "I mean, how was the weather down there?" +</P> + +<P> +"No weather at all," says I. "They just have climate. How are things +around the shop, though?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very satisfactory," says Piddie, rubbin' his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Bound to be," says I, "with you and Mr. Robert sittin' on the lid." +</P> + +<P> +With which soothin' josh and a pat on the shoulder, I slips through +into the private office, where Mr. Robert sits puffin' a cigarette +placid in front of a heaped-up desk. When he sees me, he grins. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" says he, shovin' out the cordial palm. "So the treasure +seekers have returned, have they?" And he chuckles. +</P> + +<P> +"Uh-huh!" says I, doin' a little grin on my own account. +</P> + +<P> +"At least," he goes on, "you have a fine tropical complexion to show +for your trip. Little else, I presume?" +</P> + +<P> +"Brace yourself, Mr. Robert," says I, "for you got a jolt comin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says he, "you can't mean that—" +</P> + +<P> +I nods. +</P> + +<P> +"Rupert had the right dope," says I. "It was just where he said it +was—jewels and everything. Why, say, we got enough to stock a +museum—sacks full." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I say, Torchy!" says he, after starin' at me a second. "What's +the sense?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't claim there's any sense to it," says I. "It was the simplest +stunt you ever saw. We just went and dug, that's all. But there was +the stuff. And we got away with it. You might's well get used to +believing though, for I'm applyin' right now for a block of Corrugated +preferred. That's what I'm goin' to soak my share into." +</P> + +<P> +"Your share?" says he. "But I didn't understand that you—" +</P> + +<P> +"Vee and I helped locate the treasure mound," I explains, "and got +counted in just in time. And say, the best is yet to come. It's goin' +to be Vee and me for keeps pretty soon." +</P> + +<P> +"Wha-a-at!" says he. "You've won over Auntie?" +</P> + +<P> +"Right and regular," says I. "Vee's wearin' the ring." +</P> + +<P> +Say, Mr. Robert's got a grip on him when he gets real enthusiastic. I +could feel it in my fingers for hours after. Then he had to call in +Piddie and tell him, and by noon the word has been passed all through +the offices. I expect it started modest, but by the time it got to +that bunch of young hicks in the bond room they had it that I was going +to marry a Newport heiress, resign from the Corrugated, and live abroad. +</P> + +<P> +"In some swell Scotch castle, I suppose?" one of 'em asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Unless I can rent Buckingham Palace," says I. "Say, it's a wonder you +boys would let anybody feed you a chunk like that! Newport heiress be +blowed! She's just a nice New York girl, one I've known four or five +years; and when it comes to settlin' down we'll most likely look for +three rooms on the top floor with a two-by-four bath and a foldin' +kitchenette. I'll be satisfied at that, though." +</P> + +<P> +It's a great state of mind to be in. I hope I didn't look as foolish +as I felt. If I had I guess they'd have had most of my private seccing +gone over careful. But nobody seemed to suspect how giddy I was in the +head. I goes caromin' around, swappin' smiles with perfect strangers +and actin' like I thought life was just a continuous picnic, with no +dishes to wash afterwards. +</P> + +<P> +Course, my reg'lar evenin' program is to doll up after dinner and drop +around. I'll admit Auntie hadn't issued any standin' invitation, but +if Vee was expectin' me that's enough. And she was. We went to shows +some, or took walks up the Drive, or just sat in the window nook and +indulged in merry conversation. Once we had a whale of a time, when +Mr. Robert gives a perfectly good dinner dance for us. Oh, the real +thing—Cupid place-cards, a floral centerpiece representin' twin +hearts, and all that sort of stuff. I begun to feel as if it was all +over but the shoutin'. Even got to scoutin' around at odd times, +pricin' small apartments and gazin' into furniture store windows. +</P> + +<P> +And then— Well, it was just a little chat Auntie has over the 'phone +that takes most of the joy out of life. I didn't notice what she was +sayin' at first, bein' busy tryin' to draw out the floor plan of a cute +four-room affair I'd inspected recent. All of a sudden, though, I +pricks up my ears. +</P> + +<P> +"But it's so hot in Jamaica," Auntie is tellin' this friend of +hers—"that is, unless one goes to Montego Bay, and the hotel there— +Oh, Newcastle? Yes, that is delightful, but— Can one, really? An +army officer's villa! That would be ideal, up there in the mountains. +And Jamaica always routs my rheumatism. For three months? When can we +get a good steamer? The tenth. That would give us time. Well, I +think we shall join you. Let me sleep on it. I'll call you about noon +to-morrow? Good-by." +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Vee and I are gazin' blank at each other. We don't need any +diagram to understand what Auntie is up to. Just one of her old +tricks—a speedy packin' up and a casual getaway for Jamaica. Say, +wouldn't that crack your faith in human nature? And she proceeds to +announce her scheme as placid as if it was something she'd thought out +special for our benefit. +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me," says I, "but you ain't plannin' on Vee's goin' along, too, +are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, certainly," says she. "Verona could not stay here alone. And at +this season the mountains of Jamaica are—" +</P> + +<P> +"It's utterly stupid at Newcastle," breaks in Vee. "Nothing but a lot +of black soldiers, and a few fat English officers, and seeing the same +dozen people at teas three times a week." +</P> + +<P> +"Besides," I puts in, "it would be a long jump for me to run down for +over Sunday, wouldn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"How unreasonable of you both," says Auntie. "Now, you young people +have been together a great deal of late. You can well afford to be +separated for a few months." +</P> + +<P> +I goes choky in the throat. There was a lot of points I wanted to +make, but I couldn't seem to state 'em fast enough. All I can get out +is: "But—but see here; we—we was sort of plannin' to—to be—" +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" cuts in Auntie. "You are hardly more than children, either +of you. It's absurd enough of you becoming engaged. But beyond that— +Oh, not for years and years." +</P> + +<P> +Oh, yes, there was a lot more to the debate—on our side. I registered +strong, with some cuttin' remark about bein' treated like a scrap of +paper. As for Auntie, she simply stands pat. "Not for years and +years." That's where her argument begins and ends. Not that she's +messy about it, or intends to be mean. She simply don't take our +little plans serious. They don't count. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there!" says she. "We'll say no more about it," and sails off +to sort out the dresses she'll want to stow in her trunk. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" says I, glancin' at Vee. "Merry idea of hers, eh? Years and +years! Talks like she thought gettin' married was some game like +issuin' long-term bonds maturin' about 1950." +</P> + +<P> +"If you only knew how stupid and dull it's going to be for me there!" +says Vee, poutin'. +</P> + +<P> +"With you that far off," says I, "New York ain't goin' to seem so gay +for a certain party." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I must go, though," says Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't get it," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but I must," says she. +</P> + +<P> +Durin' the next week we talked it over a lot; but, so far as I can +remember, we only said about the same thing. It came out that this +friend of Auntie's was one that Vee never could stand for, anyway: a +giddy old dame who kalsomined her face, was free with advice on +bringin' up nieces, and was a bridge and embroidery fiend. +</P> + +<P> +"And I shall be left to sit around," says Vee, "bored stiff." +</P> + +<P> +I knew it wasn't just a whim of hers; for one evening along towards the +last, I found her with her eyelids red. +</P> + +<P> +"Been cryin'?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"A little," says Vee. "Silly thing to do when one's packing." +</P> + +<P> +"See here, Vee," says I; "I ought to be doing something about this." +</P> + +<P> +"But you can't," says she. "No one can. I must trot along with +Auntie, just as I always have, and stay until—until she's ready to +come back." +</P> + +<P> +"Then it'll be a case of movin' on somewhere for the summer, I +expect—Nova Scotia or Iceland?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +Vee nods and lets out a sigh. +</P> + +<P> +"If we was a pair of wild ducks, now," says I. +</P> + +<P> +At which she snickers kind of hysterical and—well, it's the first time +I ever knew her to do the sob act. Also I'd never been quite sure +before that I was much more to her than sort of an amusin' pal. But +when she grips me around the neck that way, and snuggles her head of +straw-colored hair down on my necktie, and just naturally cuts loose +for a good cry—say, then I knew. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-298"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-298.jpg" ALT=""Then she grips me around the neck, and snuggles her head down on my necktie—say, then I knew."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="558" HEIGHT="370"> +<H4> +[Illustration: "Then she grips me around the neck,<BR>and snuggles her +head down on my necktie—say, then I knew."] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +I knew it was to be me and Vee from then on. I ain't givin' it any +fancy name. We ain't either of us the mushy kind, I hope. But I felt +that she needed me to stand by, that I could be of some use. That was +thrillin' and wonderful enough for me. And as I folded her in gentle +and let her turn the sprinkler on a brand-new plaid silk scarf that I'd +just put up a dollar for, I set my jaw firm and says to myself, +"Torchy, here's where you quit the youths' department for good. Into +the men's section for you, and see that you act the part." +</P> + +<P> +"Vee," I whispers, "leave it to me. I didn't know just where I stood +before. But I'm out of the trance now, and I'm set for action. Leave +it to me." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Torchy," says she a bit choky, but tryin' to work up a +smile. "You can do nothing, though." +</P> + +<P> +Couldn't I? Maybe not. I was out to make a stab, anyway. There was a +couple of days left before the steamer sailed, and I'd just passed a +resolution that Vee was to stay behind. Beyond that my program was +vague. After I'd walked a dozen blocks it begun to get clearer. My +first stop was at the Ellins house; and when I'd succeeded in +convincin' the new butler that it was no good tryin' to stall me off, +I'm led into the lib'ry, where Old Hickory is sittin' in front of the +big marble fireplace, half way through his second cigar. What I puts +up to him is when I can realize on my share of the pirate loot. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," says he, "the dealers haven't made a report as yet, but if you +wish an advance I should be happy to—" +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow?" says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," says he. "Say five thousand—ten—" +</P> + +<P> +"Make it five," says I. "May I call up Mr. Robert from here?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Robert Ellins tells me this is his night at the club, so all I has +to do is hop a Fifth Avenue stage, and in less'n twenty minutes he's +broke away from his billiard game and is listenin' while I state the +situation to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Course," says I, "it would bump Auntie some, but seems to me it's +comin' to her." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite a reasonable conclusion," says he. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't as if she needed Vee," I goes on. "She's just got in the +habit of havin' her 'round. That might be all right, too, if she +didn't have the travel bug so bad. But with her keepin' on the wing so +constant— Well, I'm no bloomin' sea-gull. And when you're engaged, +this long-distance stuff ought to be ruled out. It's got to be." +</P> + +<P> +"The way you suggest ought to accomplish that," says Mr. Robert. +</P> + +<P> +"What sticks me is where to camp down afterwards," says I. "I've been +lookin' around some, but—" +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" says Mr. Robert, slappin' his knee. "Who was it that was +bothering me just after dinner? Waddy Crane! He's been pretending to +be an artist, you know; but now he's got hold of his money, it's all +off. He's going to start a bandbox theater in Chicago, elevate the +drama, all that sort of thing. And that studio apartment of his up in +the Fifties would be the very thing for you two. Wants to unload the +lease and furnishings. Oh, Waddy has excellent taste in rugs and old +mahogany. And it will be a rare bargain; I shall see to that. What do +you say?" +</P> + +<P> +Bein' in the plungin' mood, I said I'd take a chance. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" says Mr. Robert. "I'll have it all arranged before midnight. +But when and where does the—er—affair come off?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm just plottin' that out," says I. "Could I sort of count on you +and Mrs. Ellins for to-morrow evenin', say?" +</P> + +<P> +"At your service," says Mr. Robert. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll think up a place and see if I can pull it," says I. +</P> + +<P> +If it hadn't been for that little detail of visitin' the license bureau +I wouldn't have sprung it on Vee until the last minute. As it is, I +has to toll her downtown with a bid to luncheon, and then I suggests +visitin' City Hall. She's wise in a minute, too. +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use, Torchy," says she. "I've promised Auntie that, whatever +else I did, I would never run away to be married." +</P> + +<P> +And there my grand little scheme is shot full of holes, all in a +second. When I get headway on like I had then, though, I just don't +know when I'm blocked. I swallows hard once or twice, and then shrugs +my shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's get the license, anyway," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the sense?" asks Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"I can have it to read over, can't I?" says I. "That'll help some. +Besides— Ah, come on, Vee! Be a sport. Didn't you say you'd leave +it to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"But I can't break my promise, Torchy," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," says I, "and I wouldn't ask you to. Let's take the +subway." +</P> + +<P> +I won; and when I put her in a taxi an hour later she was still +blushin' from answerin' questions. I had that paper with the city seal +on it in my inside pocket, though. My next job is on the Reverend +Percey, the one who did the job for Mr. Robert the time I stage-managed +his impromptu knot-tyin'. Course, I couldn't sign him up for anything +definite, but I got a schedule of his spare time from six o'clock on, +and where he would be. +</P> + +<P> +"But I—I don't quite understand," says he, starin' puzzled through his +glasses. "You say you are uncertain whether my services will be—" +</P> + +<P> +"Now listen, Percey," says I. "I'm the most uncertain party at the +present writing that you ever saw. But if I should 'phone, I want you +to answer the call like a deputy chief goin' to a third alarm. Get +that? And I'm payin' time and a half for every minute after dark. +See?" +</P> + +<P> +Maybe that wasn't just the way to hire a reverend, but I was too rushed +to think up the proper frills. I had to attend to a lot of little +things, among 'em bein' this plant with Auntie's cruisin' friend, the +widow. She was in the habit, Mrs. Mumford was, of pickin' Auntie up +now and then for an evenin' drive in her limousine; and what I was +tryin' to suggest was that this would be a swell night for it. +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't see how I can," says she, cooin' as usual. "Mrs. +Hemmingway is to be a guest at a going-away dinner, and may not be home +until late." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" says I. "Why, that's fine—I mean, for Auntie. Ripping, eh, +what? Much obliged." +</P> + +<P> +The foxy old girl. She'd never mentioned it. And if I hadn't found +out just as I— But I did. It simplifies things a lot. That is, it +would unless— Here I grabs the 'phone again and calls up Vee. +</P> + +<P> +"Auntie's going out to dinner to-night," says I. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know," says Vee. "She has just told me. I am not included." +</P> + +<P> +"Then whisper," says I. "Revise that wardrobe trunk of yours like you +expected a cold winter in Jamaica. Have a bag ready, too, and a +traveling dress handy." +</P> + +<P> +"But why, Torchy?" she insists. +</P> + +<P> +"Leave it to me," says I. "We'll be up about 8:30." +</P> + +<P> +"We?" she asks. +</P> + +<P> +"Now be good," says I, "and you may be happy. Also get busy." +</P> + +<P> +You see, I figured that what she didn't know she couldn't worry about, +nor discuss with Auntie. Besides, it was all too hazy in my head for +me to sketch it out very clear to anyone. +</P> + +<P> +Honest, I don't see now how I kept from gettin' things bugged, for I +sure was crashin' ahead reckless. I felt like I'd been monkeyin' with +a flyin' machine until I'd got it started and had been caught somewhere +in the riggin' with nobody at the wheel. But I was glad of it. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Robert helped out wonderful. When I stops packin' my suitcase long +enough to remark, "But say, if it does work, where am I headed for?" +he's right there with the useful information. +</P> + +<P> +"Here!" says he. "Your tickets and drawing-room reservation. It's a +nice little place up in Vermont—quiet, refined, comfortable, all that +sort of thing. Train at 10:45." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" says I. "Then that's all right. Lemme see, where's that other +sock?" +</P> + +<P> +Say, I'd even forgot who all I'd asked to be on hand. That was what I +was checkin' up when I rode past Auntie's floor on the elevator. I +finds Vee some excited and more or less curious. +</P> + +<P> +"Please," says she, "what is it all about?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a little game," says I, "entitled ditching Jamaica. There'll be +some of our friends here directly to join in." +</P> + +<P> +"Torchy," says Vee, starin' a bit scared, "you—you mean that— Anyway, +I should change my frock, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you do," says I, "couldn't you make it that pink one, with the +flimsy pink hat?" +</P> + +<P> +"You goose!" says she. "If you like, though. Why, there is someone +now!" +</P> + +<P> +"That'll be Mr. and Mrs. Robert Ellins," says I. "You'll have to show +speed." +</P> + +<P> +Trust Vee. Just the' same, I don't know where there's another girl +that could dress for the big event in less'n half an hour, while the +guests was arrivin'. Next came Mr. Robert's sister, Marjorie, towin' +her Ferdie along. Aunt Zenobia and my Uncle Kyrle and Aunt Martha +breezed in soon after, with Old Hickory and Mrs. Ellins right behind +'em. Then Piddie, who'd put on his evenin' clothes over in Jersey at +5:30 and had been on the trolley most of the time since. +</P> + +<P> +No, it wasn't a big mob, but it was a heap better than havin' some +Connecticut parson call in wifie and the hired girl, as I'd first +planned it. +</P> + +<P> +And prompt at 9:30 the Reverend Percey shows up, some out of breath +from his dash across from the subway, but ready to shoot his lines as +soon as he got his hat off. While he didn't quite have to do that, we +didn't waste much time on settin' the stage. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, Vee," says I, takin' her by the hand. "How about over there +in our old window alcove, eh? Tum tum-te-tum!" +</P> + +<P> +She holds back just a second. Then she tosses her chin up, smiles +brave at me, and gives my fingers a squeeze. Say, she's some girl. +</P> + +<P> +Another minute and the Reverend Percey is off with a flyin' start. He +ain't so husky to look at, but he booms out the "Wilt-thou" stuff real +impressive and solemn, part of the time peekin' over his glasses at the +folks behind, and then lookin' earnest at us. For an off-hand +performance I call it a good job. And almost before I knew it was +under way it's all over. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Vee," says I, plantin' a smack in the right place, "we've done +it!" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I wish Auntie knew," says she. +</P> + +<P> +"But she does," says Mr. Robert. "At Torchy's request I have just +called her up. She will be here in less than half an hour." +</P> + +<P> +"With her blessin'—or what?" I asks. +</P> + +<P> +"As to that," says Mr. Robert, "I am not informed." +</P> + +<P> +Anyway, we had time to brace ourselves. Vee had only finished changing +and the bags was bein' sent down to the taxi when in she comes. +</P> + +<P> +"Young man—" she begins. +</P> + +<P> +But I heads her off. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Auntie!" says I, lettin' on to be surprised, and holdin' out both +hands. "You don't know how we missed you. Honest! All my fault, +though. But say, with your stickin' to that years-and-years idea, what +else could we do—I ask you?" +</P> + +<P> +And then I notices that them straight-cut mouth corners of hers ain't +set near so hard as I thought. Her eyes ain't throwin' off sparks, +either. They're sort of dewy, in fact. And when she does speak again +there's a break in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Come," says she, beckonin' us up. "Perhaps you know best, after all, +you silly children." +</P> + +<P> +I'll bet we made a fine group, too, the three of us, Auntie in the +middle, givin' us the fond clinch. +</P> + +<P> +"But such impudence of you, to do it right here!" she goes on. "No one +but you, Torchy, would have thought of that." +</P> + +<P> +"Had to," says I, "with everything else barred. I suspected it might +bump you some, but—" +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me," breaks in Mr. Robert, "but it's time for you to start for +your train." +</P> + +<P> +"Train!" says Vee. "Torchy, where are we going?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just a sec.," says I, "till I look at the tickets." +</P> + +<P> +So the last I heard from Auntie was a gasp. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilt Thou Torchy, by Sewell Ford + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILT THOU TORCHY *** + +***** This file should be named 17333-h.htm or 17333-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/3/3/17333/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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