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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes index 6833f05..d7b82bc 100644 --- a/.gitattributes +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -1,3 +1,4 @@ -* text=auto -*.txt text -*.md text +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf @@ -1,9 +1,9 @@ *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 6955 *** -THE PRINCE AND BETTY +THE PRINCE AND BETTY by P. G. WODEHOUSE @@ -649,7 +649,7 @@ to have a prince here 'way back in eighty-something. Well, I'm going to have him working at the old stand again, right away." Miss Scobell looked up from her paper, which she had been reading with -absorbed interest throughout tins harangue. +absorbed interest throughout this harangue. "Dear?" she said enquiringly. diff --git a/6955-h/6955-h.htm b/6955-h/6955-h.htm index df56230..3c26a88 100644 --- a/6955-h/6955-h.htm +++ b/6955-h/6955-h.htm @@ -1,17 +1,12 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> <head> - <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <meta charset="utf-8"> <title> The Prince and Betty | Project Gutenberg </title> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + <style> + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} @@ -58,7 +53,7 @@ <div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 6955 ***</div> <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br ><br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h1> THE PRINCE AND BETTY @@ -66,20 +61,20 @@ <h2> By P. G. Wodehouse </h2> - <h4> - [American edition] 1912 - </h4> + <div style="text-align: center;"> + <b>[American edition] 1912</b> + </div> <p> - <br /> <br /> + <br > <br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <br /> <br /> + <br > <br > </p> <h3> CONTENTS </h3> - <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> + <table style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto; padding: 4px; border: 3px solid;"> <tr> <td> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE PRINCE AND BETTY </a> @@ -328,27 +323,27 @@ </tr> </table> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + <a id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> THE PRINCE AND BETTY </h2> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0001"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER I — THE CABLE FROM MERVO @@ -432,7 +427,7 @@ Elsa, who had been skimming the document with raised eyebrows, now read it out in its spacious entirety. </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> +<pre> <i>On receipt of this come instantly Mervo without moment delay vital importance presence urgently required come wherever you are cancel engagements urgent necessity hustle @@ -684,14 +679,14 @@ shame!" </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0002"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER II — MERVO AND ITS OWNER @@ -732,7 +727,7 @@ beyond the limits of convenience, he would substitute another from the reserve supply that protruded from his vest-pocket. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> How Benjamin Scobell had discovered the existence of Mervo is not known. It lay well outside the sphere of the ordinary financier. But Mr. Scobell @@ -948,7 +943,7 @@ and had caused him to utter the exclamation recorded at the beginning of the chapter. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> "By Heck!" he said. "Read that again, Marion. I gottan idea." </p> @@ -1025,7 +1020,7 @@ </p> <p> Miss Scobell looked up from her paper, which she had been reading with - absorbed interest throughout tins harangue. + absorbed interest throughout this harangue. </p> <p> "Dear?" she said enquiringly. @@ -1080,14 +1075,14 @@ man Poineau right away." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0003"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER III — JOHN @@ -1400,14 +1395,14 @@ Mr. Westley did not look up. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0004"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER IV — VIVE LE ROI! @@ -1485,7 +1480,7 @@ <p> He imitated the great financier. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> It was while he was smoking a cigar after dinner that night, musing on the fortunes of the day's game and, in particular, on the almost criminal @@ -1766,7 +1761,7 @@ <p> "Sure thing," said the envoy ecstatically. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> At eight o'clock on the following morning, two young men, hatless and a little rumpled, but obviously cheerful, entered the Astor Hotel, demanding @@ -1790,14 +1785,14 @@ Thus did Prince John formally enter into his kingdom. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0005"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER V — MR. SCOBELL HAS ANOTHER IDEA @@ -2173,14 +2168,14 @@ "Oh, shucks!" said the schemer impatiently. "Here, where's a cable form?" </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0006"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER VI — YOUNG ADAM CUPID @@ -2391,7 +2386,7 @@ <p> "At about ten, then. Good-night, Mr. Maude." </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> John had reached the bay at half-past eight, and had been on guard there ever since. It was now past ten, but still there were no signs of Betty. @@ -2443,14 +2438,14 @@ had caught the flutter of a white dress. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0007"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER VII — MR. SCOBELL IS FRANK @@ -2648,7 +2643,7 @@ <p> "I want to think," she said quietly. "I'm going out." </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> In days of old, in the age of legend, omens warned heroes of impending doom. But to-day the gods have grown weary, and we rush unsuspecting on @@ -2820,14 +2815,14 @@ sleep. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0008"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER VIII — AN ULTIMATUM FROM THE THRONE @@ -3031,7 +3026,7 @@ <p> "This is from her. Listen what she says: </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> +<pre> "<i>By the time you read this I shall be gone. I am going back to America as quickly as I can. I am giving this to a boy to take to you directly the boat has started. Please do not try @@ -3218,14 +3213,14 @@ "Bug-house!" he gasped. "Abso-lutely bug-house!" </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0009"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER IX — MERVO CHANGES ITS CONSTITUTION @@ -3485,7 +3480,7 @@ <p> The deputation then withdrew, reluctantly. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> On the following morning there came a note from Mr. Scobell. It was brief. "Come on down before the shooting begins," it ran. John tore it up. @@ -3521,7 +3516,7 @@ There was a howl and a thud, and John resumed his stroll. The first gun from Fort Sumter had been fired. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> Early next morning a window at the rear of the palace was broken by a stone, and toward noon one of the soldiers on guard in front of the Casino @@ -3701,7 +3696,7 @@ really must be going. I've run it mighty fine. Slip one of these fellows down there half a dollar and send him to fetch a cab. I must step lively." </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> Five minutes later the revolutionists, obviously embarrassed and ill at ease, were sheepishly gulping down their refreshment beneath the stony eye @@ -3710,14 +3705,14 @@ into a suitcase. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0010"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER X — MRS. OAKLEY @@ -3787,7 +3782,7 @@ resolutely once more. For she had just remembered the existence of Mrs. Oakley. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> Only once in her life had Betty met her stepfather's celebrated aunt, and the meeting had taken place nearly twelve years ago. The figure that @@ -3930,7 +3925,7 @@ pitied the poor, burned at any story of oppression, and cried "Give!" but the other cried "Halt!" and held her back, and between the two she fell. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> It was to this somewhat unpromising haven of refuge that Betty's mind now turned in her trouble. She did not expect great things. She could not have @@ -3940,14 +3935,14 @@ somewhere. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0011"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XI — A LETTER OF INTRODUCTION @@ -4290,14 +4285,14 @@ everything." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0012"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XII — "PEACEFUL MOMENTS" @@ -4610,7 +4605,7 @@ coat-sleeve, and resumed his task of reading the proofs of Luella Granville Waterman's "Moments in the Nursery." </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> He had not been working long, when Pugsy Maloney, the office boy, entered. </p> @@ -4645,14 +4640,14 @@ treats? Ask her to come in, Comrade Maloney." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0013"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XIII — BETTY MAKES A FRIEND @@ -4985,14 +4980,14 @@ see if we cannot stagger humanity with it." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0014"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XIV — A CHANGE OF POLICY @@ -5348,14 +5343,14 @@ about and seeing our new contributors. There is no time to waste." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0015"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XV — THE HONEYED WORD @@ -5669,14 +5664,14 @@ them manfully. He suffers in an excellent cause." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0016"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XVI — TWO VISITORS TO THE OFFICE @@ -6081,7 +6076,7 @@ the contented look the Far West editor must have worn as the bullet came through the window, "is, owing to you, going some now." </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> When they returned from lunch, and reentered the outer office, Pugsy Maloney, raising his eyes for a moment from his book, met them with the @@ -6123,14 +6118,14 @@ once more to his romance of prairie life. "Goils is bone-heads." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0017"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XVII — THE MAN AT THE ASTOR @@ -6443,7 +6438,7 @@ comes from constant association with the main boss, and, if we can elude these, all will be well." </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> It was by Smith's suggestion that the editorial staff of <i>Peaceful Moments</i> dined that night at the Astor roof-garden. @@ -6586,14 +6581,14 @@ pardon me. Good-night again." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0018"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XVIII — THE HIGHFIELD @@ -6634,7 +6629,7 @@ feelings, be bubbling over with gratitude toward us. At any rate, it is worth investigating." </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> Far away from the comfortable glare of Broadway, in a place of disheveled houses and insufficient street-lamps, there stands the old warehouse which @@ -6667,7 +6662,7 @@ "ten-round exhibition contest," to be the main event of the evening's entertainment. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> A long journey on the subway took them to the neighborhood, and after considerable wandering they arrived at their destination. @@ -7069,14 +7064,14 @@ "Get busy," advised the Kid briefly. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0019"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XIX — THE FIRST BATTLE @@ -7431,7 +7426,7 @@ would direct us to the nearest subway station. Just at the moment, the cheerful lights of the Great White Way are what I seem chiefly to need." </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> So ended the opening engagement of the campaign, in a satisfactory but far from decisive victory for the <i>Peaceful Moments</i>' army. @@ -7457,14 +7452,14 @@ secured Comrade Brady's services. We may need them." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0020"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XX — BETTY AT LARGE @@ -7561,7 +7556,7 @@ She sat on, thinking, with grave, troubled eyes, while the shadows lengthened and the birds rustled sleepily in the branches overhead. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> Among the good qualities, none too numerous, of Mr. Bat Jarvis, of Groome Street in the Bowery, early rising was not included. It was his habit to @@ -7847,14 +7842,14 @@ new career by taking thirty-seven cents from the late breakfaster. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0021"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XXI — CHANGES IN THE STAFF @@ -7982,7 +7977,7 @@ had been skirmishes by the wayside, but nothing more. The two armies were sparring for an opening. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> Smith was distinctly relieved at the respite, for a serious blow had fallen on <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, necessitating careful thought. This was the defection of Kid Brady. @@ -8028,7 +8023,7 @@ a special number. Good luck, Comrade Brady, and many thanks for your help." </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> John, when he arrived at the office and learned the news, was for relying on their own unaided efforts. @@ -8076,14 +8071,14 @@ you to meet her." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0022"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XXII — A GATHERING OF CAT SPECIALISTS @@ -8372,7 +8367,7 @@ of rhetoric. Till to-morrow, then, Comrade Jarvis. I am very much obliged to you." </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> "Not at all a bad hour's work," he said complacently, as they turned out of Groome Street. "A vote of thanks to you, John, for your invaluable @@ -8393,14 +8388,14 @@ might quite possibly come in useful." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0023"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XXIII — THE RETIREMENT OF SMITH @@ -8691,14 +8686,14 @@ several weeks he felt positively light-hearted. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0024"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XXIV — THE CAMPAIGN QUICKENS @@ -9070,14 +9065,14 @@ the long-expected collector of rents. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0025"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XXV — CORNERED @@ -9366,14 +9361,14 @@ bare yard away, stood Betty. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0026"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XXVI — JOURNEY'S END @@ -9800,14 +9795,14 @@ the journey's end. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0027"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XXVII — A LEMON @@ -9969,7 +9964,7 @@ "Pugsy," said John, feeling in his pocket, and producing a roll of bills, "a dollar a word is our rate for contributions like that." </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> John pushed back his chair slightly, stretched out his legs, and lighted a cigarette, watching Betty fondly through the smoke. The resources of the @@ -10352,14 +10347,14 @@ just as well if we retired." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0028"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XXVIII — THE FINAL ATTEMPT @@ -10544,7 +10539,7 @@ <p> Mr. Parker did not reply. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> The cab moved swiftly on. Now they had reached the open country. An occasional wooden shack was passed, but that was all. At any moment, John @@ -10569,7 +10564,7 @@ <p> John recognized it. It was the voice of Kid Brady. </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> The Kid, as he had stated that he intended to do, had begun his training for his match with Eddie Wood at White Plains. It was his practise to open @@ -10720,14 +10715,14 @@ of it." </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0029"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XXIX — A REPRESENTATIVE GATHERING @@ -11232,14 +11227,14 @@ that before, and save all this trouble?" </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + <a id="link2HCH0030"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> CHAPTER XXX — CONCLUSION @@ -11334,20 +11329,20 @@ Her hand stole out and found his. They began to talk in whispers. </p> <p> - <br /><br /> + <br ><br > </p> - <hr /> + <hr > <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + <a id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> </p> <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <h2> THE END </h2> <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + <br ><br ><br ><br ><br ><br > </div> <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 6955 ***</div> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt index 6312041..b5dba15 100644 --- a/LICENSE.txt +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -1,4 +1,4 @@ -This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. @@ -7,5 +7,5 @@ the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in jurisdictions other than the United States. 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G. Wodehouse - -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: The Prince and Betty - -Author: P. G. Wodehouse - - -Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6955] -First Posted: February 17, 2003 -Last Updated: November 11, 2018 - - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCE AND BETTY *** - - - - -Etext produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team - -HTML file produced by David Widger - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - THE PRINCE AND BETTY - </h1> - <h2> - By P. G. Wodehouse - </h2> - <h4> - [American edition] 1912 - </h4> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <h3> - CONTENTS - </h3> - <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE PRINCE AND BETTY </a> - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> - </td> - <td> - THE CABLE PROM MERVO - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> - </td> - <td> - MERVO AND ITS OWNER - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> - </td> - <td> - JOHN - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> - </td> - <td> - VIVE LE ROI! - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> - </td> - <td> - MR. SCOBELL HAS ANOTHER IDEA - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> - </td> - <td> - YOUNG ADAM CUPID - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> - </td> - <td> - MR. SCOBELL IS FRANK - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> - </td> - <td> - AN ULTIMATUM FROM THE THRONE - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> - </td> - <td> - MERVO CHANGES ITS CONSTITUTION - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> - </td> - <td> - MRS. OAKLEY - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> - </td> - <td> - A LETTER OF INTRODUCTION - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> - </td> - <td> - "PEACEFUL MOMENTS" - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> - </td> - <td> - BETTY MAKES A FRIEND - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> - </td> - <td> - A CHANGE OF POLICY - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> - </td> - <td> - THE HONEYED WORD - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> - </td> - <td> - TWO VISITORS TO THE OFFICE - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> - </td> - <td> - THE MAN AT THE ASTOR - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> - </td> - <td> - THE HIGHFIELD - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> - </td> - <td> - THE FIRST BATTLE - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> - </td> - <td> - BETTY AT LARGE - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> - </td> - <td> - CHANGES IN THE STAFF - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> - </td> - <td> - A GATHERING OF CAT SPECIALISTS - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> - </td> - <td> - THE RETIREMENT OF SMITH - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> - </td> - <td> - THE CAMPAIGN QUICKENS - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> - </td> - <td> - CORNERED - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> - </td> - <td> - JOURNEY'S END - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> - </td> - <td> - A LEMON - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> - </td> - <td> - THE FINAL ATTEMPT - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> - </td> - <td> - A REPRESENTATIVE GATHERING - </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> - <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> - </td> - <td> - CONCLUSION - </td> - </tr> - </table> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE PRINCE AND BETTY - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I — THE CABLE PROM MERVO - </h2> - <p> - A pretty girl in a blue dress came out of the house, and began to walk - slowly across the terrace to where Elsa Keith sat with Marvin Rossiter in - the shade of the big sycamore. Elsa and Marvin had become engaged some few - days before, and were generally to be found at this time sitting together - in some shaded spot in the grounds of the Keith's Long Island home. - </p> - <p> - "What's troubling Betty, I wonder," said Elsa. "She looks worried." - </p> - <p> - Marvin turned his head. - </p> - <p> - "Is that your friend, Miss Silver?" - </p> - <p> - "That's Betty. We were at college together. I want you to like Betty." - </p> - <p> - "Then I will. When did she arrive?" - </p> - <p> - "Last night. She's here for a month. What's the matter, Betty? This is - Marvin. I want you to like Marvin." - </p> - <p> - Betty Silver smiled. Her face, in repose, was rather wistful, but it - lighted up when she smiled, and an unsuspected dimple came into being on - her chin. - </p> - <p> - "Of course I shall," she said. - </p> - <p> - Her big gray eyes seemed to search Marvin's for an instant and Marvin had, - almost subconsciously, a comfortable feeling that he had been tested and - found worthy. - </p> - <p> - "What were you scowling at so ferociously, Betty?" asked Elsa. - </p> - <p> - "Was I scowling? I hope you didn't think it was at you. Oh, Elsa, I'm - miserable! I shall have to leave this heavenly place." - </p> - <p> - "Betty!" - </p> - <p> - "At once. And I was meaning to have the most lovely time. See what has - come!" - </p> - <p> - She held out some flimsy sheets of paper. - </p> - <p> - "A cable!" said Elsa. - </p> - <p> - "Great Scott! it looks like the scenario of a four-act play," said Marvin. - "That's not all one cable, surely? Whoever sent it must be a millionaire." - </p> - <p> - "He is. It's from my stepfather. Read it out, Elsa. I want Mr. Rossiter to - hear it. He may be able to tell me where Mervo is. Did you ever hear of - Mervo, Mr. Rossiter?" - </p> - <p> - "Never. What is it?" - </p> - <p> - "It's a place where my stepfather is, and where I've got to go. I do call - it hard. Go on, Elsa." - </p> - <p> - Elsa, who had been skimming the document with raised eyebrows, now read it - out in its spacious entirety. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - <i>On receipt of this come instantly Mervo without moment - delay vital importance presence urgently required come - wherever you are cancel engagements urgent necessity hustle - have advised bank allow you draw any money you need expenses - have booked stateroom Mauretania sailing Wednesday don't fail - catch arrive Fishguard Monday train London sleep London catch - first train Tuesday Dover now mind first train no taking root - in London and spending a week shopping mid-day boat Dover - Calais arrive Paris Tuesday evening Dine Paris catch train de - luxe nine-fifteen Tuesday night for Marseilles have engaged - sleeping coupe now mind Tuesday night no cutting loose around - Paris stores you can do all that later on just now you want to - get here right quick arrive Marseilles Wednesday morning boat - Mervo Wednesday night will meet you Mervo now do you follow - all that because if not cable at once and say which part of - journey you don't understand now mind special points to be - remembered firstly come instantly secondly no cutting loose - around London Paris stores see.</i> - - <i>SCOBELL.</i> -</pre> - <p> - "<i>Well!</i>" said Elsa, breathless. - </p> - <p> - "By George!" said Marvin. "He certainly seems to want you badly enough. He - hasn't spared expense. He has put in about everything you could put into a - cable." - </p> - <p> - "Except why he wants me," said Betty. - </p> - <p> - "Yes," said Elsa. "Why does he want you? And in such a desperate hurry, - too!" - </p> - <p> - Marvin was re-reading the message. - </p> - <p> - "It isn't a mere invitation," he said. "There's no - come-right-along-you'll-like-this-place-it's-fine about it. He seems to - look on your company more as a necessity than a luxury. It's a sort of - imperious C.Q.D." - </p> - <p> - "That's what makes it so strange. We have hardly met for years. Why, he - didn't even know where I was. The cable was sent to the bank and forwarded - on. And I don't know where he is!" - </p> - <p> - "Which brings us back," said Marvin, "to mysterious Mervo. Let us reason - inductively. If you get to the place by taking a boat from Marseilles, it - can't be far from the French coast. I should say at a venture that Mervo - is an island in the Mediterranean. And a small island for if it had been a - big one we should have heard of it." - </p> - <p> - "Marvin!" cried Elsa, her face beaming with proud affection. "How clever - you are!" - </p> - <p> - "A mere gift," he said modestly. "I have been like that from a boy." He - got up from his chair. "Isn't there an encyclopaedia in the library, - Elsa?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes, but it's an old edition." - </p> - <p> - "It will probably touch on Mervo. I'll go and fetch it." - </p> - <p> - As he crossed the terrace, Elsa turned quickly to Betty. - </p> - <p> - "Well?" she said. - </p> - <p> - Betty smiled at her. - </p> - <p> - "He's a dear. Are you very happy, Elsa?" - </p> - <p> - Elsa's eyes danced. She drew in her breath softly. Betty looked at her in - silence for a moment. The wistful expression was back on her face. - </p> - <p> - "Elsa," she said, suddenly. "What is it like? How does it feel, knowing - that there's someone who is fonder of you than anything—?" - </p> - <p> - Elsa closed her eyes. - </p> - <p> - "It's like eating berries and cream in a new dress by moonlight on a - summer night while somebody plays the violin far away in the distance so - that you can just hear it," she said. - </p> - <p> - Her eyes opened again. - </p> - <p> - "And it's like coming along on a winter evening and seeing the windows lit - up and knowing you've reached home." - </p> - <p> - Betty was clenching her hands, and breathing quickly. - </p> - <p> - "And it's like—" - </p> - <p> - "Elsa, don't! I can't bear it!" - </p> - <p> - "Betty! What's the matter?" - </p> - <p> - Betty smiled again, but painfully. - </p> - <p> - "It's stupid of me. I'm just jealous, that's all. I haven't got a Marvin, - you see. You have." - </p> - <p> - "Well, there are plenty who would like to be your Marvin." - </p> - <p> - Betty's face grew cold. - </p> - <p> - "There are plenty who would like to be Benjamin Scobell's son-in-law," she - said. - </p> - <p> - "Betty!" Elsa's voice was serious. "We've been friends for a good long - time, so you'll let me say something, won't you? I think you're getting - just the least bit hard. Now turn and rend me," she added good-humoredly. - </p> - <p> - "I'm not going to rend you," said Betty. "You're perfectly right. I am - getting hard. How can I help it? Do you know how many men have asked me to - marry them since I saw you last? Five." - </p> - <p> - "Betty!" - </p> - <p> - "And not one of them cared the slightest bit about me." - </p> - <p> - "But, Betty, dear, that's just what I mean. Why should you say that? How - can you know?" - </p> - <p> - "How do I know? Well, I do know. Instinct, I suppose. The instinct of - self-preservation which nature gives hunted animals. I can't think of a - single man in the world—except your Marvin, of course—who - wouldn't do anything for money." She stopped. "Well, yes, one." - </p> - <p> - Elsa leaned forward eagerly. - </p> - <p> - "Who, Betty?" - </p> - <p> - "You don't know him." - </p> - <p> - "But what's his name?" - </p> - <p> - Betty hesitated. - </p> - <p> - "Well, if I am on the witness-stand—Maude." - </p> - <p> - "Maude? I thought you said a man?" - </p> - <p> - "It's his name. John Maude." - </p> - <p> - "But, Betty! Why didn't you tell me before? This is tremendously - interesting." - </p> - <p> - Betty laughed shortly. - </p> - <p> - "Not so very, really. I only met him two or three times, and I haven't - seen him for years, and I don't suppose I shall ever see him again. He was - a friend of Alice Beecher's brother, who was at Harvard. Alice took me - over to meet her brother, and Mr. Maude was there. That's all." - </p> - <p> - Elsa was plainly disappointed. - </p> - <p> - "But how do you know, then—? What makes you think that he—?" - </p> - <p> - "Instinct, again, I suppose. I do know." - </p> - <p> - "And you've never met him since?" - </p> - <p> - Betty shook her head. Elsa relapsed into silence. She had a sense of - pathos. - </p> - <p> - At the further end of the terrace Marvin Rossiter appeared, carrying a - large volume. - </p> - <p> - "Here we are," he said. "Scared it up at the first attempt. Now then." - </p> - <p> - He sat down, and opened the book. - </p> - <p> - "You don't want to hear all about how Jason went there in search of the - Golden Fleece, and how Ulysses is supposed to have taken it in on his - round-trip? You want something more modern. Well, it's an island in the - Mediterranean, as I said, and I'm surprised that you've never heard of it, - Elsa, because it's celebrated in its way. It's the smallest independent - state in the world. Smaller than Monaco, even. Here are some facts. Its - population when this encyclopaedia was printed—there may be more now—was - eleven thousand and sixteen. It was ruled over up to 1886 by a prince. But - in that year the populace appear to have said to themselves, 'When in the - course of human events....' Anyway, they fired the prince, and the place - is now a republic. So that's where you're going, Miss Silver. I don't know - if it's any consolation to you, but the island, according to this - gentleman, is celebrated for the unspoilt beauty of its scenery. He also - gives a list of the fish that can be caught there. It takes up about three - lines." - </p> - <p> - "But what can my stepfather be doing there? I last heard of him in London. - Well, I suppose I shall have to go." - </p> - <p> - "I suppose you will," said Elsa mournfully. "But, oh, Betty, what a - shame!" - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II — MERVO AND ITS OWNER - </h2> - <p> - "By heck!" cried Mr. Benjamin Scobell. - </p> - <p> - He wheeled round from the window, and transferred his gaze from the view - to his sister Marion; losing by the action, for the view was a joy to the - eye, which his sister Marion was not. - </p> - <p> - Mervo was looking its best under the hot morning sun. Mr. Scobell's villa - stood near the summit of the only hill the island possessed, and from the - window of the morning-room, where he had just finished breakfast, he had - an uninterrupted view of valley, town, and harbor—a two-mile riot of - green, gold and white, and beyond the white the blue satin of the - Mediterranean. Mr. Scobell did not read poetry except that which - advertised certain breakfast foods in which he was interested, or he might - have been reminded of the Island of Flowers in Tennyson's "Voyage of - Maeldive." Violets, pinks, crocuses, yellow and purple mesembryanthemum, - lavender, myrtle, and rosemary ... his two-mile view contained them all. - The hillside below him was all aglow with the yellow fire of the mimosa. - But his was not one of those emotional natures to which the meanest flower - that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. A - primrose by the river's brim a simple primrose was to him—or not so - much a simple primrose, perhaps, as a basis for a possible Primrosina, the - Soap that Really Cleans You. - </p> - <p> - He was a nasty little man to hold despotic sway over such a Paradise: a - goblin in Fairyland. Somewhat below the middle height, he was lean of body - and vulturine of face. He had a greedy mouth, a hooked nose, liquid green - eyes and a sallow complexion. He was rarely seen without a half-smoked - cigar between his lips. This at intervals he would relight, only to allow - it to go out again; and when, after numerous fresh starts, it had dwindled - beyond the limits of convenience, he would substitute another from the - reserve supply that protruded from his vest-pocket. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - How Benjamin Scobell had discovered the existence of Mervo is not known. - It lay well outside the sphere of the ordinary financier. But Mr. Scobell - took a pride in the versatility of his finance. It distinguished him from - the uninspired who were content to concentrate themselves on steel, wheat - and such-like things. It was Mr. Scobell's way to consider nothing as - lying outside his sphere. In a financial sense he might have taken - Terence's <i>Nihil humanum alienum</i> as his motto. He was interested in - innumerable enterprises, great and small. He was the power behind a - company which was endeavoring, without much success, to extract gold from - the mountains of North Wales, and another which was trying, without any - success at all, to do the same by sea water. He owned a model farm in - Indiana, and a weekly paper in New York. He had financed patent medicines, - patent foods, patent corks, patent corkscrews, patent devices of all - kinds, some profitable, some the reverse. - </p> - <p> - Also—outside the ordinary gains of finance—he had - expectations. He was the only male relative of his aunt, the celebrated - Mrs. Jane Oakley, who lived in a cottage on Staten Island, and was reputed - to spend five hundred dollars a year—some said less—out of her - snug income of eighteen million. She was an unusual old lady in many ways, - and, unfortunately, unusually full of deep-rooted prejudices. The fear - lest he might inadvertently fall foul of these rarely ceased to haunt Mr. - Scobell. - </p> - <p> - This man of many projects had descended upon Mervo like a stone on the - surface of some quiet pool, bubbling over with modern enterprise in - general and, in particular, with a scheme. Before his arrival, Mervo had - been an island of dreams and slow movement and putting things off till - to-morrow. The only really energetic thing it had ever done in its whole - history had been to expel his late highness, Prince Charles, and change - itself into a republic. And even that had been done with the minimum of - fuss. The Prince was away at the time. Indeed, he had been away for nearly - three years, the pleasures of Paris, London and Vienna appealing to him - more keenly than life among his subjects. Mervo, having thought the matter - over during these years, decided that it had no further use for Prince - Charles. Quite quietly, with none of that vulgar brawling which its - neighbor, France, had found necessary in similar circumstances, it had - struck his name off the pay-roll, and declared itself a republic. The - royalist party, headed by General Poineau, had been distracted but - impotent. The army, one hundred and fifteen strong, had gone solid for the - new regime, and that had settled it. Mervo had then gone to sleep again. - It was asleep when Mr. Scobell found it. - </p> - <p> - The financier's scheme was first revealed to M. d'Orby, the President of - the Republic, a large, stout statesman with even more than the average - Mervian instinct for slumber. He was asleep in a chair on the porch of his - villa when Mr. Scobell paid his call, and it was not until the financier's - secretary, who attended the seance in the capacity of interpreter, had - rocked him vigorously from side to side for quite a minute that he - displayed any signs of animation beyond a snore like the growling of - distant thunder. When at length he opened his eyes, he perceived the - nightmare-like form of Mr. Scobell standing before him, talking. The - financier, impatient of delay, had begun to talk some moments before the - great awakening. - </p> - <p> - "Sir," Mr. Scobell was saying, "I gotta proposition to which I'd like you - to give your complete attention. Shake him some more, Crump. Sir, there's - big money in it for all of us, if you and your crowd'll sit in. Money. <i>Lar' - monnay</i>. No, that means change. What's money, Crump? <i>Arjong</i>? - There's <i>arjong</i> in it, Squire. Get that? Oh, shucks! Hand it to him - in French, Crump." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Secretary Crump translated. The President blinked, and intimated that - he would hear more. Mr. Scobell relighted his cigar-stump, and proceeded. - </p> - <p> - "Say, you've heard of <i>Moosieer</i> Blonk? Ask the old skeesicks if he's - ever heard of <i>Mersyaw</i> Blonk, Crump, the feller who started the - gaming-tables at Monte Carlo." - </p> - <p> - Filtered through Mr. Crump, the question became intelligible to the - President. He said he had heard of M. Blanc. Mr. Crump caught the reply - and sent it on to Mr. Scobell, as the man on first base catches the ball - and throws it to second. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell relighted his cigar. - </p> - <p> - "Well, I'm in that line. I'm going to put this island on the map just like - old Doctor Blonk put Monte Carlo. I've been studying up all about the old - man, and I know just what he did and how he did it. Monte Carlo was just - such another jerkwater little place as this is before he hit it. The - government was down to its last bean and wondering where the Heck its next - meal-ticket was coming from, when in blows Mr. Man, tucks up his - shirt-sleeves, and starts the tables. And after that the place never - looked back. You and your crowd gotta get together and pass a vote to give - me a gambling concession here, same as they did him. Scobell's my name. - Hand him that, Crump." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Crump obliged once more. A gleam of intelligence came into the - President's dull eye. He nodded once or twice. He talked volubly in French - to Mr. Crump, who responded in the same tongue. - </p> - <p> - "The idea seems to strike him, sir," said Mr. Crump. - </p> - <p> - "It ought to, if he isn't a clam," replied Mr. Scobell. He started to - relight his cigar, but after scorching the tip of his nose, bowed to the - inevitable and threw the relic away. - </p> - <p> - "See here," he said, having bitten the end off the next in order; "I've - thought this thing out from soup to nuts. There's heaps of room for - another Monte Carlo. Monte's a dandy place, but it's not perfect by a long - way. To start with, it's hilly. You have to take the elevator to get to - the Casino, and when you've gotten to the end of your roll and want to - soak your pearl pin, where's the hock-shop? Half a mile away up the side - of a mountain. It ain't right. In my Casino there's going to be a resident - pawnbroker inside the building, just off the main entrance. That's only - one of a heap of improvements. Another is that my Casino's scheduled to be - a home from home, a place you can be real cosy in. You'll look around you, - and the only thing you'll miss will be mother's face. Yes, sir, there's no - need for a gambling Casino to look and feel and smell like the - reading-room at the British Museum. Comfort, coziness and convenience. - That's the ticket I'm running on. Slip that to the old gink, Crump." - </p> - <p> - A further outburst of the French language from Mr. Crump, supplemented on - the part of the "old gink" by gesticulations, interrupted the proceedings. - </p> - <p> - "What's he saying now?" asked Mr. Scobell. - </p> - <p> - "He wants to know—" - </p> - <p> - "Don't tell. Let me guess. He wants to know what sort of a rake-off he and - the other somnambulists will get—the darned old pirate! Is that it?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Crump said that that was just it. - </p> - <p> - "That'll be all right," said Mr. Scobell. "Old man Blong's offer to the - Prince of Monaco was five hundred thousand francs a year—that's - somewhere around a hundred thousand dollars in real money—and half - the profits made by the Casino. That's my offer, too. See how that hits - him, Crump." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Crump investigated. - </p> - <p> - "He says he accepts gladly, on behalf of the Republic, sir," he announced. - </p> - <p> - M. d'Orby confirmed the statement by rising, dodging the cigar, and - kissing Mr. Scobell on both cheeks. - </p> - <p> - "Cut it out," said the financier austerely, breaking out of the clinch. - "We'll take the Apache Dance as read. Good-by, Squire. Glad it's settled. - Now I can get busy." - </p> - <p> - He did. Workmen poured into Mervo, and in a very short time, dominating - the town and reducing to insignificance the palace of the late Prince, - once a passably imposing mansion, there rose beside the harbor a mammoth - Casino of shining stone. - </p> - <p> - Imposing as was the exterior, it was on the interior that Mr. Scobell more - particularly prided himself, and not without reason. Certainly, a man with - money to lose could lose it here under the most charming conditions. It - had been Mr. Scobell's object to avoid the cheerless grandeur of the rival - institution down the coast. Instead of one large hall sprinkled with - tables, each table had a room to itself, separated from its neighbor by - sound-proof folding-doors. And as the building progressed, Mr. Scobell's - active mind had soared above the original idea of domestic coziness to far - greater heights of ingenuity. Each of the rooms was furnished and arranged - in a different style. The note of individuality extended even to the <i>croupiers</i>. - Thus, a man with money at his command could wander from the Dutch room, - where, in the picturesque surroundings of a Dutch kitchen, <i>croupiers</i> - in the costume of Holland ministered to his needs, to the Japanese room, - where his coin would be raked in by quite passable imitations of the - Samurai. If he had any left at this point, he was free to dispose of it - under the auspices of near-Hindoos in the Indian room, of merry Swiss - peasants in the Swiss room, or in other appropriately furnished apartments - of red-shirted, Bret Harte miners, fur-clad Esquimaux, or languorous - Spaniards. He could then, if a man of spirit, who did not know when he was - beaten, collect the family jewels, and proceed down the main hall, - accompanied by the strains of an excellent band, to the office of a - gentlemanly pawnbroker, who spoke seven languages like a native and was - prepared to advance money on reasonable security in all of them. - </p> - <p> - It was a colossal venture, but it suffered from the defect from which most - big things suffer; it moved slowly. That it also moved steadily was to - some extent a consolation to Mr. Scobell. Undoubtedly it would progress - quicker and quicker, as time went on, until at length the Casino became a - permanent gold mine. But at present it was being conducted at a loss. It - was inevitable, but it irked Mr. Scobell. He paced the island and brooded. - His mind dwelt incessantly on the problem. Ideas for promoting the - prosperity of his nursling came to him at all hours—at meals, in the - night watches, when he was shaving, walking, washing, reading, brushing - his hair. - </p> - <p> - And now one had come to him as he stood looking at the view from the - window of his morning-room, listening absently to his sister Marion as she - read stray items of interest from the columns of the <i>New York Herald</i>, - and had caused him to utter the exclamation recorded at the beginning of - the chapter. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - "By Heck!" he said. "Read that again, Marion. I gottan idea." - </p> - <p> - Miss Scobell, deep in her paper, paid no attention. Few people would have - taken her for the sister of the financier. She was his exact opposite in - almost every way. He was small, jerky and aggressive; she, tall, - deliberate and negative. She was one of those women whom nature seems to - have produced with the object of attaching them to some man in a peculiar - position of independent dependence, and who defy the imagination to - picture them in any other condition whatsoever. One could not see Miss - Scobell doing anything but pour out her brother's coffee, darn his socks, - and sit placidly by while he talked. Yet it would have been untrue to - describe her as dependent upon him. She had a detached mind. Though her - whole life had been devoted to his comfort and though she admired him - intensely, she never appeared to give his conversation any real attention. - She listened to him much as she would have listened to a barking - Pomeranian. - </p> - <p> - "Marion!" cried Mr. Scobell. - </p> - <p> - "A five-legged rabbit has been born in Carbondale, Southern Illinois," she - announced. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell cursed the five-legged rabbit. - </p> - <p> - "Never mind about your rabbits. I want to hear that piece you read before. - The one about the Prince of Monaco. Will—you—listen, Marion!" - </p> - <p> - "The Prince of Monaco, dear? Yes. He has caught another fish or something - of that sort, I think. Yes. A fish with 'telescope eyes,' the paper says. - And very convenient too, I should imagine." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell thumped the table. - </p> - <p> - "I've got it. I've found out what's the matter with this darned place. I - see why the Casino hasn't struck its gait." - </p> - <p> - "<i>I</i> think it must be the <i>croupiers</i>, dear. I'm sure I never - heard of <i>croupiers</i> in fancy costume before. It doesn't seem right. - I'm sure people don't like those nasty Hindoos. I am quite nervous myself - when I go into the Indian room. They look at me so oddly." - </p> - <p> - "Nonsense! That's the whole idea of the place, that it should be - different. People are sick and tired of having their money gathered in by - seedy-looking Dagoes in second-hand morning coats. We give 'em variety. - It's not the Casino that's wrong: it's the darned island. What's the use - of a republic to a place like this? I'm not saying that you don't want a - republic for a live country that's got its way to make in the world; but - for a little runt of a sawn-off, hobo, one-night stand like this you gotta - have something picturesque, something that'll advertise the place, - something that'll give a jolt to folks' curiosity, and make 'em talk! - There's this Monaco gook. He snoops around in his yacht, digging up - telescope-eyed fish, and people talk about it. 'Another darned fish,' they - say. 'That's the 'steenth bite the Prince of Monaco has had this year.' - It's like a soap advertisement. It works by suggestion. They get to - thinking about the Prince and his pop-eyed fishes, and, first thing they - know, they've packed their grips and come along to Monaco to have a peek - at him. And when they're there, it's a safe bet they aren't going back - again without trying to get a mess of easy money from the Bank. That's - what this place wants. Whoever heard of this blamed Republic doing - anything except eat and sleep? They used to have a prince here 'way back - in eighty-something. Well, I'm going to have him working at the old stand - again, right away." - </p> - <p> - Miss Scobell looked up from her paper, which she had been reading with - absorbed interest throughout tins harangue. - </p> - <p> - "Dear?" she said enquiringly. - </p> - <p> - "I say I'm going to have him back again," said Mr. Scobell, a little - damped. "I wish you would listen." - </p> - <p> - "I think you're quite right, dear. Who?" - </p> - <p> - "The Prince. Do listen, Marion. The Prince of this island, His Highness, - the Prince of Mervo. I'm going to send for him and put him on the throne - again." - </p> - <p> - "You can't, dear. He's dead." - </p> - <p> - "I know he's dead. You can't faze me on the history of this place. He died - in ninety-one. But before he died he married an American girl, and there's - a son, who's in America now, living with his uncle. It's the son I'm going - to send for. I got it all from General Poineau. He's a royalist. He'll be - tickled to pieces when Johnny comes marching home again. Old man Poineau - told me all about it. The Prince married a girl called Westley, and then - he was killed in an automobile accident, and his widow went back to - America with the kid, to live with her brother. Poineau says he could lay - his hand on him any time he pleased." - </p> - <p> - "I hope you won't do anything rash, dear," said his sister comfortably. - "I'm sure we don't want any horrid revolution here, with people shooting - and stabbing each other." - </p> - <p> - "Revolution?" cried Mr. Scobell. "Revolution! Well, I should say nix! - Revolution nothing. I'm the man with the big stick in Mervo. Pretty near - every adult on this island is dependent on my Casino for his weekly - envelope, and what I say goes—without argument. I want a prince, so - I gotta have a prince, and if any gazook makes a noise like a man with a - grouch, he'll find himself fired." - </p> - <p> - Miss Scobell turned to her paper again. - </p> - <p> - "Very well, dear," she said. "Just as you please. I'm sure you know best." - </p> - <p> - "Sure!" said her brother. "You're a good guesser. I'll go and beat up old - man Poineau right away." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III — JOHN - </h2> - <p> - Ten days after Mr. Scobell's visit to General Poineau, John, Prince of - Mervo, ignorant of the greatness so soon to be thrust upon him, was - strolling thoughtfully along one of the main thoroughfares of that outpost - of civilization, Jersey City. He was a big young man, tall and large of - limb. His shoulders especially were of the massive type expressly designed - by nature for driving wide gaps in the opposing line on the gridiron. He - looked like one of nature's center-rushes, and had, indeed, played in that - position for Harvard during two strenuous seasons. His face wore an - expression of invincible good-humor. He had a wide, good-natured mouth, - and a pair of friendly gray eyes. One felt that he liked his follow men - and would be surprised and pained if they did not like him. - </p> - <p> - As he passed along the street, he looked a little anxious. Sherlock Holmes—and - possibly even Doctor Watson—would have deduced that he had something - on his conscience. - </p> - <p> - At the entrance to a large office building, he paused, and seemed to - hesitate. Then, as if he had made up his mind to face an ordeal, he went - in and pressed the button of the elevator. - </p> - <p> - Leaving the elevator at the third floor, he went down the passage, and - pushed open a door on which was inscribed the legend, "Westley, Martin - & Co." - </p> - <p> - A stout youth, walking across the office with his hands full of papers, - stopped in astonishment. - </p> - <p> - "Hello, John Maude!" he cried. - </p> - <p> - The young man grinned. - </p> - <p> - "Say, where have you been? The old man's been as mad as a hornet since he - found you had quit without leave. He was asking for you just now." - </p> - <p> - "I guess I'm up against it," admitted John cheerfully. - </p> - <p> - "Where did you go yesterday?" - </p> - <p> - John put the thing to him candidly, as man to man. - </p> - <p> - "See here, Spiller, suppose you got up one day and found it was a - perfectly bully morning, and remembered that the Giants were playing the - Athletics, and looked at your mail, and saw that someone had sent you a - pass for the game—" - </p> - <p> - "Were you at the ball-game? You've got the nerve! Didn't you know there - would be trouble?" - </p> - <p> - "Old man," said John frankly, "I could no more have turned down that pass— - Oh, well, what's the use? It was just great. I suppose I'd better tackle - the boss now. It's got to be done." - </p> - <p> - It was not a task to which many would have looked forward. Most of those - who came into contact with Andrew Westley were afraid of him. He was a - capable rather than a lovable man, and too self-controlled to be quite - human. There was no recoil in him, no reaction after anger, as there would - have been in a hotter-tempered man. He thought before he acted, but, when - he acted, never yielded a step. - </p> - <p> - John, in all the years of their connection, had never been able to make - anything of him. At first, he had been prepared to like him, as he liked - nearly everybody. But Mr. Westley had discouraged all advances, and, as - time went by, his nephew had come to look on him as something apart from - the rest of the world, one of those things which no fellow could - understand. - </p> - <p> - On Mr. Westley's side, there was something to be said in extenuation of - his attitude. John reminded him of his father, and he had hated the late - Prince of Mervo with a cold hatred that had for a time been the ruling - passion of his life. He had loved his sister, and her married life had - been one long torture to him, a torture rendered keener by the fact that - he was powerless to protect either her happiness or her money. Her money - was her own, to use as she pleased, and the use which pleased her most was - to give it to her husband, who could always find a way of spending it. As - to her happiness, that was equally out of his control. It was bound up in - her Prince, who, unfortunately, was a bad custodian for it. At last, an - automobile accident put an end to His Highness's hectic career (and, - incidentally, to that of a blonde lady from the <i>Folies Bergeres</i>), - and the Princess had returned to her brother's home, where, a year later, - she died, leaving him in charge of her infant son. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Westley's desire from the first had been to eliminate as far as - possible all memory of the late Prince. He gave John his sister's name, - Maude, and brought him up as an American, in total ignorance of his - father's identity. During all the years they had spent together, he had - never mentioned the Prince's name. - </p> - <p> - He disliked John intensely. He fed him, clothed him, sent him to college, - and gave him a place in his office, but he never for a moment relaxed his - bleakness of front toward him. John was not unlike his father in - appearance, though built on a larger scale, and, as time went on, little - mannerisms, too, began to show themselves, that reminded Mr. Westley of - the dead man, and killed any beginnings of affection. - </p> - <p> - John, for his part, had the philosophy which goes with perfect health. He - fitted his uncle into the scheme of things, or, rather, set him outside - them as an irreconcilable element, and went on his way enjoying life in - his own good-humored fashion. - </p> - <p> - It was only lately, since he had joined the firm, that he had been - conscious of any great strain. College had given him a glimpse of a larger - life, and the office cramped him. He felt vaguely that there were bigger - things in the world which he might be doing. His best friends, of whom he - now saw little, were all men of adventure and enterprise, who had tried - their hand at many things; men like Jimmy Pitt, who had done nearly - everything that could be done before coming into an unexpected - half-million; men like Rupert Smith, who had been at Harvard with him and - was now a reporter on the <i>News</i>; men like Baker, Faraday, Williams—he - could name half-a-dozen, all men who were <i>doing</i> something, who were - out on the firing line. - </p> - <p> - He was not a man who worried. He had not that temperament. But sometimes - he would wonder in rather a vague way whether he was not allowing life to - slip by him a little too placidly. An occasional yearning for something - larger would attack him. There seemed to be something in him that made for - inaction. His soul was sleepy. - </p> - <p> - If he had been told of the identity of his father, it is possible that he - might have understood. The Princes of Mervo had never taken readily to - action and enterprise. For generations back, if they had varied at all, - son from father, it had been in the color of hair or eyes, not in - character—a weak, shiftless procession, with nothing to distinguish - them from the common run of men except good looks and a talent for wasting - money. - </p> - <p> - John was the first of the line who had in him the seeds of better things. - The Westley blood and the bracing nature of his education had done much to - counteract the Mervo strain. He did not know it, but the American in him - was winning. The desire for action was growing steadily every day. - </p> - <p> - It had been Mervo that had sent him to the polo grounds on the previous - day. That impulse had been purely Mervian. No prince of that island had - ever resisted a temptation. But it was America that was sending him now to - meet his uncle with a quiet unconcern as to the outcome of the interview. - The spirit of adventure was in him. It was more than possible that Mr. - Westley would sink the uncle in the employer and dismiss him as summarily - as he would have dismissed any other clerk in similar circumstances. If - so, he was prepared to welcome dismissal. Other men fought an unsheltered - fight with the world, so why not he? - </p> - <p> - He moved towards the door of the inner office with a certain exhilaration. - </p> - <p> - As he approached, it flew open, disclosing Mr. Westley himself, a tall, - thin man, at the sight of whom Spiller shot into his seat like a rabbit. - </p> - <p> - John went to meet him. - </p> - <p> - "Ah," said Mr. Westley; "come in here. I want to speak to you." - </p> - <p> - John followed him into the room. - </p> - <p> - "Sit down," said his uncle. - </p> - <p> - John waited while he dictated a letter. Neither spoke till the - stenographer had left the room. John met the girl's eye as she passed. - There was a compassionate look in it. John was popular with his fellow - employes. His absence had been the cause of discussion and speculation - among them, and the general verdict had been that there would be troublous - times for him on the morrow. - </p> - <p> - When the door closed, Mr. Westley leaned back in his chair, and regarded - his nephew steadily from under a pair of bushy gray eyebrows which lent a - sort of hypnotic keenness to his gaze. - </p> - <p> - "You were at the ball-game yesterday?" he said. - </p> - <p> - The unexpectedness of the question startled John into a sharp laugh. - </p> - <p> - "Yes," he said, recovering himself. - </p> - <p> - "Without leave." - </p> - <p> - "It didn't seem worth while asking for leave." - </p> - <p> - "You mean that you relied so implicitly on our relationship to save you - from the consequences?" - </p> - <p> - "No, I meant—" - </p> - <p> - "Well, we need not try and discover what you may have meant. What claim do - you put forward for special consideration? Why should I treat you - differently from any other member of the staff?" - </p> - <p> - John had a feeling that the interview was being taken at too rapid a pace. - He felt confused. - </p> - <p> - "I don't want you to treat me differently," he said. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Westley did not reply. John saw that he had taken a check-book from - its pigeonhole. - </p> - <p> - "I think we understand each other," said Mr. Westley. "There is no need - for any discussion. I am writing you a check for ten thousand dollars—" - </p> - <p> - "Ten thousand dollars!" - </p> - <p> - "It happens to be your own. It was left to me in trust for you by your - mother. By a miracle your father did not happen to spend it." - </p> - <p> - John caught the bitter note which the other could not keep out of his - voice, and made one last attempt to probe this mystery. As a boy he had - tried more than once before he realized that this was a forbidden topic. - </p> - <p> - "Who was my father?" he said. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Westley blotted the check carefully. - </p> - <p> - "Quite the worst blackguard I ever had the misfortune to know," he replied - in an even tone. "Will you kindly give me a receipt for this? Then I need - not detain you. You may return to the ball-game without any further delay. - Possibly," he went on, "you may wonder why you have not received this - money before. I persuaded your mother to let me use my discretion in - choosing the time when it should be handed over to you. I decided to wait - until, in my opinion, you had sense enough to use it properly. I do not - think that time has arrived. I do not think it will ever arrive. But as we - are parting company and shall, I hope, never meet again, you had better - have it now." - </p> - <p> - John signed the receipt in silence. - </p> - <p> - "Thank you," said Mr. Westley. "Good-by." - </p> - <p> - At the door John hesitated. He had looked forward to this moment as one of - excitement and adventure, but now that it had come it had left him in - anything but an uplifted mood. He was naturally warm-hearted, and his - uncle's cold anger hurt him. It was so different from anything sudden, so - essentially not of the moment. He felt instinctively that it had been - smoldering for a long time, and realized with a shock that his uncle had - not been merely indifferent to him all these years, but had actually hated - him. It was as if he had caught a glimpse of something ugly. He felt that - this was the last scene of some long drawn-out tragedy. - </p> - <p> - Something made him turn impulsively back towards the desk. - </p> - <p> - "Uncle—" he cried. - </p> - <p> - He stopped. The hopelessness of attempting any step towards a better - understanding overwhelmed him. Mr. Westley had begun to write. He must - have seen John's movement, but he continued to write as if he were alone - in the room. - </p> - <p> - John turned to the door again. - </p> - <p> - "Good-by," he said. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Westley did not look up. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV — VIVE LE ROI! - </h2> - <p> - When, an hour later, John landed in New York from the ferry, his mood had - changed. The sun and the breeze had done their work. He looked on life - once more with a cheerful and optimistic eye. - </p> - <p> - His first act, on landing, was to proceed to the office of the <i>News</i> - and enquire for Rupert Smith. He felt that he had urgent need of a few - minutes' conversation with him. Now that the painter had been definitely - cut that bound him to the safe and conventional, and he had set out on his - own account to lead the life adventurous, he was conscious of an absurd - diffidence. New York looked different to him. It made him feel positively - shy. A pressing need for a friendly native in this strange land manifested - itself. Smith would have ideas and advice to bestow—he was - notoriously prolific of both—and in this crisis both were highly - necessary. - </p> - <p> - Smith, however, was not at the office. He had gone out, John was informed, - earlier in the morning to cover a threatened strike somewhere down on the - East Side. John did not go in search of him. The chance of finding him in - that maze of mean streets was remote. He decided to go uptown, select a - hotel, and lunch. To the need for lunch he attributed a certain sinking - sensation of which he was becoming more and more aware, and which bore - much too close a resemblance to dismay to be pleasant. The poet's - statement that "the man who's square, his chances always are best; no - circumstance can shoot a scare into the contents of his vest," is only - true within limits. The squarest men, deposited suddenly in New York and - faced with the prospect of earning his living there, is likely to quail - for a moment. New York is not like other cities. London greets the - stranger with a sleepy grunt. Paris giggles. New York howls. A gladiator, - waiting in the center of the arena while the Colosseum officials fumbled - with the bolts of the door behind which paced the noisy tiger he was to - fight, must have had some of the emotions which John experienced during - his first hour as a masterless man in Gotham. - </p> - <p> - A surface car carried him up Broadway. At Times Square the Astor Hotel - loomed up on the left. It looked a pretty good hotel to John. He - dismounted. - </p> - <p> - Half an hour later he decided that he was acclimated. He had secured a - base of operations in the shape of a room on the seventh floor, his check - was safely deposited in the hotel bank, and he was half-way through a - lunch which had caused him already to look on New York not only as the - finest city in the world, but also, on the whole, as the one city of all - others in which a young man might make a fortune with the maximum of speed - and the minimum of effort. - </p> - <p> - After lunch, having telegraphed his address to his uncle in case of mail, - he took the latter's excellent advice and went to the polo grounds. - Returning in time to dress, he dined at the hotel, after which he visited - a near-by theater, and completed a pleasant and strenuous day at one of - those friendly restaurants where the music is continuous and the waiters - are apt to burst into song in the intervals of their other duties. - </p> - <p> - A second attempt to find Smith next morning failed, as the first had done. - The staff of the News were out of bed and at work ridiculously early, and - when John called up the office between eleven and twelve o'clock—nature's - breakfast-hour—Smith was again down East, observing the movements of - those who were about to strike or who had already struck. - </p> - <p> - It hardly seemed worth while starting to lay the bed plates of his fortune - till he had consulted the expert. What would Rockefeller have done? He - would, John felt certain, have gone to the ball-game. - </p> - <p> - He imitated the great financier. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - It was while he was smoking a cigar after dinner that night, musing on the - fortunes of the day's game and, in particular, on the almost criminal - imbecility of the umpire, that he was dreamily aware that he was being - "paged." A small boy in uniform was meandering through the room, chanting - his name. - </p> - <p> - "Gent wants five minutes wit' you," announced the boy, intercepted. - "Hasn't got no card. Business, he says." - </p> - <p> - This disposed of the idea that Rupert Smith had discovered his retreat. - John was puzzled. He could not think of another person in New York who - knew of his presence at the Astor. But it was the unknown that he was in - search of, and he decided to see the mysterious stranger. - </p> - <p> - "Send him along," he said. - </p> - <p> - The boy disappeared, and presently John observed him threading his way - back among the tables, followed by a young man of extraordinary gravity of - countenance, who was looking about him with an intent gaze through a pair - of gold-rimmed spectacles. - </p> - <p> - John got up to meet him. - </p> - <p> - "My name is Maude," he said. "Won't you sit down? Have you had dinner?" - </p> - <p> - "Thank you, yes," said the spectacled young man. - </p> - <p> - "You'll have a cigar and coffee, then?" - </p> - <p> - "Thank you, yes." - </p> - <p> - The young man remained silent until the waiter had filled his cup. - </p> - <p> - "My name is Crump," he said. "I am Mr. Benjamin Scobell's private - secretary." - </p> - <p> - "Yes?" said John. "Snug job?" - </p> - <p> - The other seemed to miss something in his voice. - </p> - <p> - "You have heard of Mr. Scobell?" he asked. - </p> - <p> - "Not to my knowledge," said John. - </p> - <p> - "Ah! you have lost touch very much with Mervo, of course." - </p> - <p> - John stared. - </p> - <p> - "Mervo?" - </p> - <p> - It sounded like some patent medicine. - </p> - <p> - "I have been instructed," said Mr. Crump solemnly, "to inform Your - Highness that the Republic has been dissolved, and that your subjects - offer you the throne of your ancestors." - </p> - <p> - John leaned back in his chair, and looked at the speaker in dumb - amazement. The thought flashed across him that Mr. Crump had been - perfectly correct in saying that he had dined. - </p> - <p> - His attitude appeared to astound Mr. Crump. He goggled through his - spectacles at John, who was reminded of some rare fish. - </p> - <p> - "You are John Maude? You said you were." - </p> - <p> - "I'm John Maude right enough. We're solid on that point." - </p> - <p> - "And your mother was the only sister of Mr. Andrew Westley?" - </p> - <p> - "You're right there, too." - </p> - <p> - "Then there is no mistake. I say the Republic—" He paused, as if - struck with an idea. "Don't you know?" he said. "Your father—" - </p> - <p> - John became suddenly interested. - </p> - <p> - "If you've got anything to tell me about my father, go right ahead. You'll - be the only man I've ever met who has said a word about him. Who the deuce - was he, anyway?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Crump's face cleared. - </p> - <p> - "I understand. I had not expected this. You have been kept in ignorance. - Your father, Mr. Maude, was the late Prince Charles of Mervo." - </p> - <p> - It was not easy to astonish John, but this announcement did so. He dropped - his cigar in a shower of gray ash on to his trousers, and retrieved it - almost mechanically, his wide-open eyes fixed on the other's face. - </p> - <p> - "What!" he cried. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Crump nodded gravely. - </p> - <p> - "You are Prince John of Mervo, and I am here—" he got into his - stride as he reached the familiar phrase—"to inform Your Highness - that the Republic has been dissolved, and that your subjects offer you the - throne of your ancestors." - </p> - <p> - A horrid doubt seized John. - </p> - <p> - "You're stringing me. One of those Indians at the <i>News</i>, Rupert - Smith, or someone, has put you up to this." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Crump appeared wounded. - </p> - <p> - "If Your Highness would glance at these documents— This is a copy of - the register of the church in which your mother and father were married." - </p> - <p> - John glanced at the document. It was perfectly lucid. - </p> - <p> - "Then—then it's true!" he said. - </p> - <p> - "Perfectly true, Your Highness. And I am here to inform—" - </p> - <p> - "But where the deuce is Mervo? I never heard of the place." - </p> - <p> - "It is an island principality in the Mediterranean, Your High—" - </p> - <p> - "For goodness' sake, old man, don't keep calling me 'Your Highness.' It - may be fun to you, but it makes me feel a perfect ass. Let me get into the - thing gradually." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Crump felt in his pocket. - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Scobell," he said, producing a roll of bills, "entrusted me with - money to defray any expenses—" - </p> - <p> - More than any words, this spectacle removed any lingering doubt which John - might have had as to the possibility of this being some intricate - practical joke. - </p> - <p> - "Are these for me?" he said. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Crump passed them across to him. - </p> - <p> - "There are a thousand dollars here," he said. "I am also instructed to say - that you are at liberty to draw further against Mr. Scobell's account at - the Wall Street office of the European and Asiatic Bank." - </p> - <p> - The name Scobell had been recurring like a <i>leit-motif</i> in Mr. - Crump's conversation. This suddenly came home to John. - </p> - <p> - "Before we go any further," he said, "let's get one thing clear. Who is - this Mr. Scobell? How does he get mixed up in this?" - </p> - <p> - "He is the proprietor of the Casino at Mervo." - </p> - <p> - "He seems to be one of those generous, open-handed fellows. Nothing of the - tight wad about him." - </p> - <p> - "He is deeply interested in Your High—in your return." - </p> - <p> - John laid the roll of bills beside his coffee cup, and relighted his - cigar. - </p> - <p> - "That's mighty good of him," he said. "It strikes me, old man, that I am - not absolutely up-to-date as regards the internal affairs of this - important little kingdom of mine. How would it be if you were to put me - next to one or two facts? Start at the beginning and go right on." - </p> - <p> - When Mr. Crump had finished a condensed history of Mervo and Mervian - politics, John smoked in silence for some minutes. - </p> - <p> - "Life, Crump," he said at last, "is certainly speeding up as far as I am - concerned. Up till now nothing in particular has ever happened to me. A - couple of days ago I lost my job, was given ten thousand dollars that I - didn't know existed, and now you tell me I'm a prince. Well, well! These - are stirring times. When do we start for the old homestead?" - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Scobell was exceedingly anxious that we should return by Saturday's - boat." - </p> - <p> - "Saturday? What, to-morrow?" - </p> - <p> - "Perhaps it is too soon. You will not be able to settle your affairs?" - </p> - <p> - "I guess I can settle my affairs all right. I've only got to pack a grip - and tip the bell hops. And as Scobell seems to be financing this show, - perhaps it's up to me to step lively if he wants it. But it's a pity. I - was just beginning to like this place. There is generally something doing - along the White Way after twilight, Crump." - </p> - <p> - The gravity of Mr. Scobell's secretary broke up unexpectedly into a slow, - wide smile. His eyes behind their glasses gleamed with a wistful light. - </p> - <p> - "Gee!" he murmured. - </p> - <p> - John looked at him, amazed. - </p> - <p> - "Crump," he cried. "Crump, I believe you're a sport!" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Crump seemed completely to have forgotten his responsible position as - secretary to a millionaire and special messenger to a prince. He smirked. - </p> - <p> - "I'd have liked a day or two in the old burg," he said softly. "I haven't - been to Rector's since Ponto was a pup." - </p> - <p> - John reached across the table and seized the secretary's hand. - </p> - <p> - "Crump," he said, "you <i>are</i> a sport. This is no time for delay. If - we are to liven up this great city, we must get busy right away. Grab your - hat, and come along. One doesn't become a prince every day. The occasion - wants celebrating. Are you with me, Crump, old scout?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure thing," said the envoy ecstatically. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - At eight o'clock on the following morning, two young men, hatless and a - little rumpled, but obviously cheerful, entered the Astor Hotel, demanding - breakfast. - </p> - <p> - A bell boy who met them was addressed by the larger of the two, and asked - his name. - </p> - <p> - "Desmond Ryan," he replied. - </p> - <p> - The young man patted him on his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - "I appoint you, Desmond Ryan," he said, "Grand Hereditary Bell Hop to the - Court of Mervo." - </p> - <p> - Thus did Prince John formally enter into his kingdom. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V — MR. SCOBELL HAS ANOTHER IDEA - </h2> - <p> - Owing to collaboration between Fate and Mr. Scobell, John's state entry - into Mervo was an interesting blend between a pageant and a vaudeville - sketch. The pageant idea was Mr. Scobell's. Fate supplied the vaudeville. - </p> - <p> - The reception at the quay, when the little steamer that plied between - Marseilles and the island principality gave up its precious freight, was - not on quite so impressive a scale as might have been given to the monarch - of a more powerful kingdom; but John was not disappointed. During the - voyage from New York, in the intervals of seasickness—for he was a - poor sailor—Mr. Crump had supplied him with certain facts about - Mervo, one of which was that its adult population numbered just under - thirteen thousand, and this had prepared him for any shortcomings in the - way of popular demonstration. - </p> - <p> - As a matter of fact, Mr. Scobell was exceedingly pleased with the scale of - the reception, which to his mind amounted practically to pomp. The Palace - Guard, forty strong, lined the quay. Besides these, there were four - officers, a band, and sixteen mounted carbineers. The rest of the army was - dotted along the streets. In addition to the military, there was a - gathering of a hundred and fifty civilians, mainly drawn from fishing - circles. The majority of these remained stolidly silent throughout, but - three, more emotional, cheered vigorously as a young man was seen to step - on to the gangway, carrying a grip, and make for the shore. General - Poineau, a white-haired warrior with a fierce mustache, strode forward and - saluted. The Palace Guards presented arms. The band struck up the Mervian - national anthem. General Poineau, lowering his hand, put on a pair of <i>pince-nez</i> - and began to unroll an address of welcome. - </p> - <p> - It was then seen that the young man was Mr. Crump. General Poineau removed - his glasses and gave an impatient twirl to his mustache. Mr. Scobell, who - for possibly the first time in his career was not smoking (though, as was - afterward made manifest, he had the materials on his person), bustled to - the front. - </p> - <p> - "Where's his nibs, Crump?" he enquired. - </p> - <p> - The secretary's reply was swept away in a flood of melody. To the band Mr. - Crump's face was strange. They had no reason to suppose that he was not - Prince John, and they acted accordingly. With a rattle of drums they burst - once more into their spirited rendering of the national anthem. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell sawed the air with his arms, but was powerless to dam the - flood. - </p> - <p> - "His Highness is shaving, sir!" bawled Mr. Crump, depositing his grip on - the quay and making a trumpet of his hands. - </p> - <p> - "Shaving!" - </p> - <p> - "Yes, sir. I told him he ought to come along, but His Highness said he - wasn't going to land looking like a tramp comedian." - </p> - <p> - By this time General Poineau had explained matters to the band and they - checked the national anthem abruptly in the middle of a bar, with the - exception of the cornet player, who continued gallantly by himself till a - feeling of loneliness brought the truth home to him. An awkward stage wait - followed, which lasted until John was seen crossing the deck, when there - were more cheers, and General Poineau, resuming his <i>pince-nez</i>, - brought out the address of welcome again. - </p> - <p> - At this point Mr. Scobell made his presence felt. - </p> - <p> - "Glad to meet you, Prince," he said, coming forward. "Scobell's my name. - Shake hands with General Poineau. No, that's wrong. I guess he kisses your - hand, don't he?" - </p> - <p> - "I'll swing on him if he does," said John, cheerfully. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell eyed him doubtfully. His Highness did not appear to him to be - treating the inaugural ceremony with that reserved dignity which we like - to see in princes on these occasions. Mr. Scobell was a business man. He - wanted his money's worth. His idea of a Prince of Mervo was something - statuesquely aloof, something—he could not express it exactly—on - the lines of the illustrations in the Zenda stories in the magazines—about - eight feet high and shinily magnificent, something that would give the - place a tone. That was what he had had in his mind when he sent for John. - He did not want a cheerful young man in a soft hat and a flannel suit who - looked as if at any moment he might burst into a college yell. - </p> - <p> - General Poineau, meanwhile, had embarked on the address of welcome. John - regarded him thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - "I can see," he said to Mr. Scobell, "that the gentleman is making a good - speech, but what is he saying? That is what gets past me." - </p> - <p> - "He is welcoming Your Highness," said Mr. Crump, the linguist, "in the - name of the people of Mervo." - </p> - <p> - "Who, I notice, have had the bully good sense to stay in bed. I guess they - knew that the Boy Orator would do all that was necessary. He hasn't said - anything about a bite of breakfast, has he? Has his address happened to - work around to the subject of shredded wheat and shirred eggs yet? That's - the part that's going to make a hit with me." - </p> - <p> - "There'll be breakfast at my villa, Your Highness," said Mr. Scobell. "My - automobile is waiting along there." - </p> - <p> - The General reached his peroration, worked his way through it, and - finished with a military clash of heels and a salute. The band rattled off - the national anthem once more. - </p> - <p> - "Now, what?" said John, turning to Mr. Scobell. "Breakfast?" - </p> - <p> - "I guess you'd better say a few words to them, Your Highness; they'll - expect it." - </p> - <p> - "But I can't speak the language, and they can't understand English. The - thing'll be a stand-off." - </p> - <p> - "Crump will hand it to 'em. Here, Crump." - </p> - <p> - "Sir?" - </p> - <p> - "Line up and shoot His Highness's remarks into 'em." - </p> - <p> - "Yes, sir. - </p> - <p> - "It's all very well for you, Crump," said John. "You probably enjoy this - sort of thing. I don't. I haven't felt such a fool since I sang 'The - Maiden's Prayer' on Tremont Street when I was joining the frat. Are you - ready? No, it's no good. I don't know what to say." - </p> - <p> - "Tell 'em you're tickled to death," advised Mr. Scobell anxiously. - </p> - <p> - John smiled in a friendly manner at the populace. Then he coughed. - "Gentlemen," he said—"and more particularly the sport on my left who - has just spoken his piece whose name I can't remember—I thank you - for the warm welcome you have given me. If it is any satisfaction to you - to know that it has made me feel like thirty cents, you may have that - satisfaction. Thirty is a liberal estimate." - </p> - <p> - "'His Highness is overwhelmed by your loyal welcome. He thanks you - warmly,'" translated Mr. Crump, tactfully. - </p> - <p> - "I feel that we shall get along nicely together," continued John. "If you - are chumps enough to turn out of your comfortable beds at this time of the - morning simply to see me, you can't be very hard to please. We shall hit - it off fine." - </p> - <p> - <i>Mr. Crump:</i> "His Highness hopes and believes that he will always - continue to command the affection of his people." - </p> - <p> - "I—" John paused. "That's the lot," he said. "The flow of - inspiration has ceased. The magic fire has gone out. Break it to 'em, - Crump. For me, breakfast." - </p> - <p> - During the early portion of the ride Mr. Scobell was silent and - thoughtful. John's speech had impressed him neither as oratory nor as an - index to his frame of mind. He had not interrupted him, because he knew - that none of those present could understand what was being said, and that - Mr. Crump was to be relied on as an editor. But he had not enjoyed it. He - did not take the people of Mervo seriously himself, but in the Prince such - an attitude struck him as unbecoming. Then he cheered up. After all, John - had given evidence of having a certain amount of what he would have called - "get-up" in him. For the purposes for which he needed him, a tendency to - make light of things was not amiss. It was essentially as a performing - prince that he had engaged John. He wanted him to do unusual things, which - would make people talk—aeroplaning was one that occurred to him. - Perhaps a prince who took a serious view of his position would try to - raise the people's minds and start reforms and generally be a nuisance. - John could, at any rate, be relied upon not to do that. - </p> - <p> - His face cleared. - </p> - <p> - "Have a good cigar, Prince?" he said, cordially, inserting two fingers in - his vest-pocket. - </p> - <p> - "Sure, Mike," said His Highness affably. - </p> - <p> - Breakfast over, Mr. Scobell replaced the remains of his cigar between his - lips, and turned to business. - </p> - <p> - "Eh, Prince?" he said. - </p> - <p> - "Yes!" - </p> - <p> - "I want you, Prince," said Mr. Scobell, "to help boom this place. That's - where you come in." - </p> - <p> - "Sure," said John. - </p> - <p> - "As to ruling and all that," continued Mr. Scobell, "there isn't any to - do. The place runs itself. Some guy gave it a shove a thousand years ago, - and it's been rolling along ever since. What I want you to do is the - picturesque stunts. Get a yacht and catch rare fishes. Whoop it up. - Entertain swell guys when they come here. Have a Court—see what I - mean?—same as over in England. Go around in aeroplanes and that - style of thing. Don't worry about money. That'll be all right. You draw - your steady hundred thousand a year and a good chunk more besides, when we - begin to get a move on, so the dough proposition doesn't need to scare you - any." - </p> - <p> - "Do I, by George!" said John. "It seems to me that I've fallen into a - pretty soft thing here. There'll be a joker in the deck somewhere, I - guess. There always is in these good things. But I don't see it yet. You - can count me in all right." - </p> - <p> - "Good boy," said Mr. Scobell. "And now you'll be wanting to get to the - Palace. I'll have them bring the automobile round." - </p> - <p> - The council of state broke up. - </p> - <p> - Having seen John off in the car, the financier proceeded to his sister's - sitting-room. Miss Scobell had breakfasted apart that morning, by request, - her brother giving her to understand that matters of state, unsuited to - the ear of a third party, must be discussed at the meal. She was reading - her <i>New York Herald</i>. - </p> - <p> - "Well," said Mr. Scobell, "he's come." - </p> - <p> - "Yes, dear?" - </p> - <p> - "And just the sort I want. Saw the idea of the thing right away, and is - ready to go the limit. No nonsense about him." - </p> - <p> - "Is he nice-looking, Bennie?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure. All these Mervo princes have been good-lookers, I hear, and this - one must be near the top of the list. You'll like him, Marion. All the - girls will be crazy about him in a week." - </p> - <p> - Miss Scobell turned a page. - </p> - <p> - "Is he married?" - </p> - <p> - Her brother started. - </p> - <p> - "Married? I never thought of that. But no, I guess he's not. He'd have - mentioned it. He's not the sort to hush up a thing like that. I—" - </p> - <p> - He stopped short. His green eyes gleamed excitedly. - </p> - <p> - "Marion!" he cried. "<i>Marion!</i>" - </p> - <p> - "Well, dear?" - </p> - <p> - "Listen. Gee, this thing is going to be the biggest ever. I gotta new - idea. It just came to me. Your saying that put it into my head. Do you - know what I'm going to do? I'm going to cable over to Betty to come right - along here, and I'm going to have her marry this prince guy. Yes, sir!" - </p> - <p> - For once Miss Scobell showed signs that her brother's conversation really - interested her. She laid down her paper, and stared at him. - </p> - <p> - "Betty!" - </p> - <p> - "Sure, Betty. Why not? She's a pretty girl. Clever too. The Prince'll be - lucky to get such a wife, for all his darned ancestors away back to the - flood." - </p> - <p> - "But suppose Betty does not like him?" - </p> - <p> - "Like him? She's gotta like him. Say, can't you make your mind soar, or - won't you? Can't you see that a thing like this has gotta be fixed - different from a marriage between—between a ribbon-counter clerk and - the girl who takes the money at a twenty-five-cent hash restaurant in - Flatbush? This is a royal alliance. Do you suppose that when a European - princess is introduced to the prince she's going to marry, they let her - say: 'Nothing doing. I don't like the shape of his nose'?" - </p> - <p> - He gave a spirited imitation of a European princess objecting to the shape - of her selected husband's nose. - </p> - <p> - "It isn't very romantic, Bennie," sighed Miss Scobell. She was a confirmed - reader of the more sentimental class of fiction, and this business-like - treatment of love's young dream jarred upon her. - </p> - <p> - "It's founding a dynasty. Isn't that romantic enough for you? You make me - tired, Marion." - </p> - <p> - Miss Scobell sighed again. - </p> - <p> - "Very well, dear. I suppose you know best. But perhaps the Prince won't - like Betty." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell gave a snort of disgust. - </p> - <p> - "Marion," he said, "you've got a mind like a chunk of wet dough. Can't you - understand that the Prince is just as much in my employment as the man who - scrubs the Casino steps? I'm hiring him to be Prince of Mervo, and his - first job as Prince of Mervo will be to marry Betty. I'd like to see him - kick!" He began to pace the room. "By Heck, it's going to make this place - boom to beat the band. It'll be the biggest kind of advertisement. - Restoration of Royalty at Mervo. That'll make them take notice by itself. - Then, biff! right on top of that, Royal Romance—Prince Weds American - Girl—Love at First Sight—Picturesque Wedding! Gee, we'll wipe - Monte Carlo clean off the map. We'll have 'em licked to a splinter. We—It's - the greatest scheme on earth." - </p> - <p> - "I have no doubt you are right, Bennie," said Miss Scobell, "but—" - her voice became dreamy again—"it's not very romantic." - </p> - <p> - "Oh, shucks!" said the schemer impatiently. "Here, where's a cable form?" - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI — YOUNG ADAM CUPID - </h2> - <p> - On a red sandstone rock at the edge of the water, where the island curved - sharply out into the sea, Prince John of Mervo sat and brooded on first - causes. For nearly an hour and a half he had been engaged in an earnest - attempt to trace to its source the acute fit of depression which had come—apparently - from nowhere—to poison his existence that morning. - </p> - <p> - It was his seventh day on the island, and he could remember every incident - of his brief reign. The only thing that eluded him was the recollection of - the exact point when the shadow of discontent had begun to spread itself - over his mind. Looking back, it seemed to him that he had done nothing - during that week but enjoy each new aspect of his position as it was - introduced to his notice. Yet here he was, sitting on a lonely rock, - consumed with an unquenchable restlessness, a kind of trapped sensation. - Exactly when and exactly how Fate, that king of gold-brick men, had - cheated him he could not say; but he knew, with a certainty that defied - argument, that there had been sharp practise, and that in an unguarded - moment he had been induced to part with something of infinite value in - exchange for a gilded fraud. - </p> - <p> - The mystery baffled him. He sent his mind back to the first definite entry - of Mervo into the foreground of his life. He had come up from his - stateroom on to the deck of the little steamer, and there in the - pearl-gray of the morning was the island, gradually taking definite shape - as the pink mists shredded away before the rays of the rising sun. As the - ship rounded the point where the lighthouse still flashed a needless - warning from its cluster of jagged rocks, he had had his first view of the - town, nestling at the foot of the hill, gleaming white against the green, - with the gold-domed Casino towering in its midst. In all Southern Europe - there was no view to match it for quiet beauty. For all his thews and - sinews there was poetry in John, and the sight had stirred him like wine. - </p> - <p> - It was not then that depression had begun, nor was it during the reception - at the quay. - </p> - <p> - The days that had followed had been peaceful and amusing. He could not - detect in any one of them a sign of the approaching shadow. They had been - lazy days. His duties had been much more simple than he had anticipated. - He had not known, before he tried it, that it was possible to be a prince - with so small an expenditure of mental energy. As Mr. Scobell had hinted, - to all intents and purposes he was a mere ornament. His work began at - eleven in the morning, and finished as a rule at about a quarter after. At - the hour named a report of the happenings of the previous day was brought - to him. When he had read it the state asked no more of him until the next - morning. - </p> - <p> - The report was made up of such items as "A fisherman named Lesieur called - Carbineer Ferrier a fool in the market-place at eleven minutes after two - this afternoon; he has not been arrested, but is being watched," and - generally gave John a few minutes of mild enjoyment. Certainly he could - not recollect that it had ever depressed him. - </p> - <p> - No, it had been something else that had worked the mischief and in another - moment the thing stood revealed, beyond all question of doubt. What had - unsettled him was that unexpected meeting with Betty Silver last night at - the Casino. - </p> - <p> - He had been sitting at the Dutch table. He generally visited the Casino - after dinner. The light and movement of the place interested him. As a - rule, he merely strolled through the rooms, watching the play; but last - night he had slipped into a vacant seat. He had only just settled himself - when he was aware of a girl standing beside him. He got up. - </p> - <p> - "Would you care—?" he had begun, and then he saw her face. - </p> - <p> - It had all happened in an instant. Some chord in him, numbed till then, - had begun to throb. It was as if he had awakened from a dream, or returned - to consciousness after being stunned. There was something in the sight of - her, standing there so cool and neat and composed, so typically American, - a sort of goddess of America, in the heat and stir of the Casino, that - struck him like a blow. - </p> - <p> - How long was it since he had seen her last? Not more than a couple of - years. It seemed centuries. It all came back to him. It was during his - last winter at Harvard that they had met. A college friend of hers had - been the sister of a college friend of his. They had met several times, - but he could not recollect having taken any particular notice of her then, - beyond recognizing that she was certainly pretty. The world had been full - of pretty American girls then. But now— - </p> - <p> - He looked at her. And, as he looked, he heard America calling to him. - Mervo, by the appeal of its novelty, had caused him to forget. But now, - quite suddenly, he knew that he was homesick—and it astonished him, - the readiness with which he had permitted Mr. Crump to lead him away into - bondage. It seemed incredible that he had not foreseen what must happen. - </p> - <p> - Love comes to some gently, imperceptibly, creeping in as the tide, through - unsuspected creeks and inlets, creeps on a sleeping man, until he wakes to - find himself surrounded. But to others it comes as a wave, breaking on - them, beating them down, whirling them away. - </p> - <p> - It was so with John. In that instant when their eyes met the miracle must - have happened. It seemed to him, as he recalled the scene now, that he had - loved her before he had had time to frame his first remark. It amazed him - that he could ever have been blind to the fact that he loved her, she was - so obviously the only girl in the world. - </p> - <p> - "You—you don't remember me," he stammered. - </p> - <p> - She was flushing a little under his stare, but her eyes were shining. - </p> - <p> - "I remember you very well, Mr. Maude," she said with a smile. "I thought I - knew your shoulders before you turned round. What are you doing here?" - </p> - <p> - "I—" - </p> - <p> - There was a hush. The <i>croupier</i> had set the ball rolling. A wizened - little man and two ladies of determined aspect were looking up - disapprovingly. John realized that he was the only person in the room not - silent. It was impossible to tell her the story of the change in his - fortunes in the middle of this crowd. He stopped, and the moment passed. - </p> - <p> - The ball dropped with a rattle. The tension relaxed. - </p> - <p> - "Won't you take this seat?" said John. - </p> - <p> - "No, thank you. I'm not playing. I only just stopped to look on. My aunt - is in one of the rooms, and I want to make her come home. I'm tired." - </p> - <p> - "Have you—?" - </p> - <p> - He caught the eye of the wizened man, and stopped again. - </p> - <p> - "Have you been in Mervo long?" he said, as the ball fell. - </p> - <p> - "I only arrived this morning. It seems lovely. I must explore to-morrow." - </p> - <p> - She was beginning to move off. - </p> - <p> - "Er—" John coughed to remove what seemed to him a deposit of sawdust - and unshelled nuts in his throat. "Er—may I—will you let me - show you—" prolonged struggle with the nuts and sawdust; then - rapidly—"some of the places to-morrow?" - </p> - <p> - He had hardly spoken the words when it was borne in upon him that he was a - vulgar, pushing bounder, presuming on a dead and buried acquaintanceship - to force his company on a girl who naturally did not want it, and who - would now proceed to snub him as he deserved. He quailed. Though he had - not had time to collect and examine and label his feelings, he was - sufficiently in touch with them to know that a snub from her would be the - most terrible thing that could possibly happen to him. - </p> - <p> - She did not snub him. Indeed, if he had been in a state of mind coherent - enough to allow him to observe, he might have detected in her eyes and her - voice signs of pleasure. - </p> - <p> - "I should like it very much," she said. - </p> - <p> - John made his big effort. He attacked the nuts and sawdust which had come - back and settled down again in company with a large lump of some - unidentified material, as if he were bucking center. They broke before him - as, long ago, the Yale line had done, and his voice rang out as if through - a megaphone, to the unconcealed disgust of the neighboring gamesters. - </p> - <p> - "If you go along the path at the foot of the hill," he bellowed rapidly, - "and follow it down to the sea, you get a little bay full of red sandstone - rocks—you can't miss it—and there's a fine view of the island - from there. I'd like awfully well to show that to you. It's great." - </p> - <p> - She nodded. - </p> - <p> - "Then shall we meet there?" she said. "When?" - </p> - <p> - John was in no mood to postpone the event. - </p> - <p> - "As early as ever you like," he roared. - </p> - <p> - "At about ten, then. Good-night, Mr. Maude." - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - John had reached the bay at half-past eight, and had been on guard there - ever since. It was now past ten, but still there were no signs of Betty. - His depression increased. He told himself that she had forgotten. Then, - that she had remembered, but had changed her mind. Then, that she had - never meant to come at all. He could not decide which of the three - theories was the most distressing. - </p> - <p> - His mood became morbidly introspective. He was weighed down by a sense of - his own unworthiness. He submitted himself to a thorough examination, and - the conclusion to which he came was that, as an aspirant to the regard, of - a girl like Betty, he did not score a single point. No wonder she had - ignored the appointment. - </p> - <p> - A cold sweat broke out on him. This was the snub! She had not administered - it in the Casino simply in order that, by being delayed, its force might - be the more overwhelming. - </p> - <p> - He looked at his watch again, and the world grew black. It was twelve - minutes after ten. - </p> - <p> - John, in his time, had thought and read a good deal about love. Ever since - he had grown up, he had wanted to fall in love. He had imagined love as a - perpetual exhilaration, something that flooded life with a golden glow as - if by the pressing of a button or the pulling of a switch, and - automatically removed from it everything mean and hard and uncomfortable; - a something that made a man feel grand and god-like, looking down - (benevolently, of course) on his fellow men as from some lofty mountain. - </p> - <p> - That it should make him feel a worm-like humility had not entered his - calculations. He was beginning to see something of the possibilities of - love. His tentative excursions into the unknown emotion, while at college, - had never really deceived him; even at the time a sort of second self had - looked on and sneered at the poor imitation. - </p> - <p> - This was different. This had nothing to do with moonlight and soft music. - It was raw and hard. It hurt. It was a thing sharp and jagged, tearing at - the roots of his soul. - </p> - <p> - He turned his head, and looked up the path for the hundredth time, and - this time he sprang to his feet. Between the pines on the hillside his eye - had caught the flutter of a white dress. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII — MR. SCOBELL IS FRANK - </h2> - <p> - Much may happen in these rapid times in the course of an hour and a half. - While John was keeping his vigil on the sandstone rock, Betty was having - an interview with Mr. Scobell which was to produce far-reaching results, - and which, incidentally, was to leave her angrier and more at war with the - whole of her world than she could remember to have been in the entire - course of her life. - </p> - <p> - The interview began, shortly after breakfast, in a gentle and tactful - manner, with Aunt Marion at the helm. But Mr. Scobell was not the man to - stand by silently while persons were being tactful. At the end of the - second minute he had plunged through his sister's mild monologue like a - rhinoceros through a cobweb, and had stated definitely, with an economy of - words, the exact part which Betty was to play in Mervian affairs. - </p> - <p> - "You say you want to know why you were cabled for. I'll tell you. There's - no use talking for half a day before you get to the point. I guess you've - heard that there's a prince here instead of a republic now? Well, that's - where you come in." - </p> - <p> - "Do you mean—?" she hesitated. - </p> - <p> - "Yes, I do," said Mr. Scobell. There was a touch of doggedness in his - voice. He was not going to stand any nonsense, by Heck, but there was no - doubt that Betty's wide-open eyes were not very easy to meet. He went on - rapidly. "Cut out any fool notions about romance." Miss Scobell, who was - knitting a sock, checked her needles for a moment in order to sigh. Her - brother eyed her morosely, then resumed his remarks. "This is a matter of - state. That's it. You gotta cut out fool notions and act for good of - state. You gotta look at it in the proper spirit. Great honor—see - what I mean? Princess and all that. Chance of a lifetime—dynasty—you - gotta look at it that way." - </p> - <p> - Miss Scobell heaved another sigh, and dropped a stitch. - </p> - <p> - "For the love of Mike," said her brother, irritably, "don't snort like - that, Marion." - </p> - <p> - "Very well, dear." - </p> - <p> - Betty had not taken her eyes off him from his first word. An unbiased - observer would have said that she made a pretty picture, standing there, - in her white dress, but in the matter of pictures, still life was - evidently what Mr. Scobell preferred for his gaze never wandered from the - cigar stump which he had removed from his mouth in order to knock off the - ash. - </p> - <p> - Betty continued to regard him steadfastly. The shock of his words had to - some extent numbed her. At this moment she was merely thinking, quite - dispassionately, what a singularly nasty little man he looked, and - wondering—not for the first time—what strange quality, - invisible to everybody else, it had been in him that had made her mother - his adoring slave during the whole of their married life. - </p> - <p> - Then her mind began to work actively once more. She was a Western girl, - and an insistence on freedom was the first article in her creed. A great - rush of anger filled her, that this man should set himself up to dictate - to her. - </p> - <p> - "Do you mean that you want me to marry this Prince?" she said. - </p> - <p> - "That's right." - </p> - <p> - "I won't do anything of the sort." - </p> - <p> - "Pshaw! Don't be foolish. You make me tired." - </p> - <p> - Betty's eye shone mutinously. Her cheeks were flushed, and her slim, - boyish figure quivered. Her chin, always determined, became a silent - Declaration of Independence. - </p> - <p> - "I won't," she said. - </p> - <p> - Aunt Marion, suspending operations on the sock, went on with tact at the - point where her brother's interruption had forced her to leave off. - </p> - <p> - "I'm sure he's a very nice young man. I have not seen him, but everybody - says so. You like him, Bennie, don't you?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure, I like him. He's a corker. Wait till you see him, Betty. Nobody's - asking you to marry him before lunch. You'll have plenty of time to get - acquainted. It beats me what you're kicking at. You give me a pain in the - neck. Be reasonable." - </p> - <p> - Betty sought for arguments to clinch her refusal. - </p> - <p> - "It's ridiculous," she said. "You talk as if you had just to wave your - hand. Why should your prince want to marry a girl he has never seen?" - </p> - <p> - "He will," said Mr. Scobell confidently. - </p> - <p> - "How do you know?" - </p> - <p> - "Because I know he's a sensible young skeesicks. That's how. See here, - Betty, you've gotten hold of wrong ideas about this place. You don't - understand the position of affairs. Your aunt didn't till I put her wise." - </p> - <p> - "He bit my head off, my dear," murmured Miss Scobell, knitting placidly. - </p> - <p> - "You're thinking that Mervo is an ordinary state, and that the Prince is - one of those independent, all-wool, off-with-his-darned-head rulers like - you read about in the best sellers. Well, you've got another guess coming. - If you want to know who's the big noise here, it's me—me! This - Prince guy is my hired man. See? Who sent for him? I did. Who put him on - the throne? I did. Who pays him his salary? I do, from the profits of the - Casino. Now do you understand? He knows his job. He knows which side his - bread's buttered. When I tell him about this marriage, do you know what - he'll say? He'll say 'Thank you, sir!' That's how things are in this - island." - </p> - <p> - Betty shuddered. Her face was white with humiliation. She half-raised her - hands with an impulsive movement to hide it. - </p> - <p> - "I won't. I won't. I won't!" she gasped. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell was pacing the room in an ecstasy of triumphant rhetoric. - </p> - <p> - "There's another thing," he said, swinging round suddenly and causing his - sister to drop another stitch. "Maybe you think he's some kind of a Dago, - this guy? Maybe that's what's biting you. Let me tell you that he's an - American—pretty near as much an American as you are yourself." - </p> - <p> - Betty stared at him. - </p> - <p> - "An American!" - </p> - <p> - "Don't believe it, eh? Well, let me tell you that his mother was born and - raised in Jersey, and that he has lived all his life in the States. He's - no little runt of a Dago. No, sir. He's a Harvard man, six-foot high and - weighs two hundred pounds. That's the sort of man he is. I guess that's - not American enough for you, maybe? No?" - </p> - <p> - "You do shout so, Bennie!" murmured Miss Scobell. "I'm sure there's no - need." - </p> - <p> - Betty uttered a cry. Something had told her who he was, this Harvard man - who had sold himself. That species of sixth sense which lies undeveloped - at the back of our minds during the ordinary happenings of life wakes - sometimes in moments of keen emotion. At its highest, it is prophecy; at - its lowest, a vague presentiment. It woke in Betty now. There was no - particular reason why she should have connected her stepfather's words - with John. The term he had used was an elastic one. Among the visitors to - the island there were probably several Harvard men. But somehow she knew. - </p> - <p> - "Who is he?" she cried. "What was his name before he—when he—?" - </p> - <p> - "His name?" said Mr. Scobell. "John Maude. Maude was his mother's name. - She was a Miss Westley. Here, where are you going?" - </p> - <p> - Betty was walking slowly toward the door. Something in her face checked - Mr. Scobell. - </p> - <p> - "I want to think," she said quietly. "I'm going out." - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - In days of old, in the age of legend, omens warned heroes of impending - doom. But to-day the gods have grown weary, and we rush unsuspecting on - our fate. No owl hooted, no thunder rolled from the blue sky as John went - up the path to meet the white dress that gleamed between the trees. - </p> - <p> - His heart was singing within him. She had come. She had not forgotten, or - changed her mind, or willfully abandoned him. His mood lightened swiftly. - Humility vanished. He was not such an outcast, after all. He was someone. - He was the man Betty Silver had come to meet. - </p> - <p> - But with the sight of her face came reaction. - </p> - <p> - Her face was pale and cold and hard. She did not speak or smile. As she - drew near she looked at him, and there was that in her look which set a - chill wind blowing through the world and cast a veil across the sun. - </p> - <p> - And in this bleak world they stood silent and motionless while eons rolled - by. - </p> - <p> - Betty was the first to speak. - </p> - <p> - "I'm late," she said. - </p> - <p> - John searched in his brain for words, and came empty away. He shook his - head dumbly. - </p> - <p> - "Shall we sit down?" said Betty. - </p> - <p> - John indicated silently the sandstone rock on which he had been communing - with himself. - </p> - <p> - They sat down. A sense of being preposterously and indecently big obsessed - John. There seemed no end to him. Wherever he looked, there were hands and - feet and legs. He was a vast blot on the face of the earth. He glanced out - of the corner of his eye at Betty. She was gazing out to sea. - </p> - <p> - He dived into his brain again. It was absurd! There must be something to - say. - </p> - <p> - And then he realized that a worse thing had befallen. He had no voice. It - had gone. He knew that, try he never so hard to speak, he would not be - able to utter a word. A nightmare feeling of unreality came upon him. Had - he ever spoken? Had he ever done anything but sit dumbly on that rock, - looking at those sea gulls out in the water? - </p> - <p> - He shot another swift glance at Betty, and a thrill went through him. - There were tears in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - The next moment—the action was almost automatic—his left hand - was clasping her right, and he was moving along the rock to her side. - </p> - <p> - She snatched her hand away. - </p> - <p> - His brain, ransacked for the third time, yielded a single word. - </p> - <p> - "Betty!" - </p> - <p> - She got up quickly. - </p> - <p> - In the confused state of his mind, John found it necessary if he were to - speak at all, to say the essential thing in the shortest possible way. - Polished periods are not for the man who is feeling deeply. - </p> - <p> - He blurted out, huskily, "I love you!" and finding that this was all that - he could say, was silent. - </p> - <p> - Even to himself the words, as he spoke them, sounded bald and meaningless. - To Betty, shaken by her encounter with Mr. Scobell, they sounded - artificial, as if he were forcing himself to repeat a lesson. They jarred - upon her. - </p> - <p> - "Don't!" she said sharply. "Oh, don't!" - </p> - <p> - Her voice stabbed him. It could not have stirred him more if she had - uttered a cry of physical pain. - </p> - <p> - "Don't! I know. I've been told." - </p> - <p> - "Been told?" - </p> - <p> - She went on quickly. - </p> - <p> - "I know all about it. My stepfather has just told me. He said—he - said you were his—" she choked—"his hired man; that he paid - you to stay here and advertise the Casino. Oh, it's too horrible! That it - should be you! You, who have been—you can't understand what you—have - been to me—ever since we met; you couldn't understand. I can't tell - you—a sort of help—something—something that—I - can't put it into words. Only it used to help me just to think of you. It - was almost impersonal. I didn't mind if I never saw you again. I didn't - expect ever to see you again. It was just being able to think of you. It - helped—you were something I could trust. Something strong—solid." - She laughed bitterly. "I suppose I made a hero of you. Girls are fools. - But it helped me to feel that there was one man alive who—who put - his honor above money—" - </p> - <p> - She broke off. John stood motionless, staring at the ground. For the first - time in his easy-going life he knew shame. Even now he had not grasped to - the full the purport of her words. The scales were falling from his eyes, - but as yet he saw but dimly. - </p> - <p> - She began to speak again, in a low, monotonous voice, almost as if she - were talking to herself. She was looking past him, at the gulls that - swooped and skimmed above the glittering water. - </p> - <p> - "I'm so tired of money—money—money. Everything's money. Isn't - there a man in the world who won't sell himself? I thought that you—I - suppose I'm stupid. It's business, I suppose. One expects too much." - </p> - <p> - She looked at him wearily. - </p> - <p> - "Good-by," she said. "I'm going." - </p> - <p> - He did not move. - </p> - <p> - She turned, and went slowly up the path. Still he made no movement. A - spell seemed to be on him. His eyes never left her as she passed into the - shadow of the trees. For a moment her white dress stood out clearly. She - had stopped. With his whole soul he prayed that she would look back. But - she moved on once more, and was gone. And suddenly a strange weakness came - upon John. He trembled. The hillside flickered before his eyes for an - instant, and he clutched at the sandstone rock to steady himself. - </p> - <p> - Then his brain cleared, and he found himself thinking swiftly. He could - not let her go like this. He must overtake her. He must stop her. He must - speak to her. He must say—he did not know what it was that he would - say—anything, so that he spoke to her again. - </p> - <p> - He raced up the path, calling her name. No answer came to his cries. Above - him lay the hillside, dozing in the noonday sun; below, the Mediterranean, - sleek and blue, without a ripple. He stood alone in a land of silence and - sleep. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII — AN ULTIMATUM FROM THE THRONE - </h2> - <p> - At half-past twelve that morning business took Mr. Benjamin Scobell to the - royal Palace. He was not a man who believed in letting the grass grow - under his feet. He prided himself on his briskness of attack. Every now - and then Mr. Crump, searching the newspapers, would discover and hand to - him a paragraph alluding to his "hustling methods." When this happened, he - would preserve the clipping and carry it about in his vest-pocket with his - cigars till time and friction wore it away. He liked to think of himself - as swift and sudden—the Human Thunderbolt. - </p> - <p> - In this matter of the royal alliance, it was his intention to have at it - and clear it up at once. Having put his views clearly before Betty, he now - proposed to lay them with equal clarity before the Prince. There was no - sense in putting the thing off. The sooner all parties concerned - understood the position of affairs, the sooner the business would be - settled. - </p> - <p> - That Betty had not received his information with joy did not distress him. - He had a poor opinion of the feminine intelligence. Girls got their minds - full of nonsense from reading novels and seeing plays—like Betty. - Betty objected to those who were wiser than herself providing a perfectly - good prince for her to marry. Some fool notion of romance, of course. Not - that he was angry. He did not blame her any more than the surgeon blames a - patient for the possession of an unsuitable appendix. There was no animus - in the matter. Her mind was suffering from foolish ideas, and he was the - surgeon whose task it was to operate upon it. That was all. One had to - expect foolishness in women. It was their nature. The only thing to do was - to tie a rope to them and let them run around till they were tired of it, - then pull them in. He saw his way to managing Betty. - </p> - <p> - Nor did he anticipate trouble with John. He had taken an estimate of - John's character, and it did not seem to him likely that it contained - unsuspected depths. He set John down, as he had told Betty, as a young man - acute enough to know when he had a good job and sufficiently sensible to - make concessions in order to retain it. Betty, after the manner of woman, - might make a fuss before yielding to the inevitable, but from level-headed - John he looked for placid acquiescence. - </p> - <p> - His mood, as the automobile whirred its way down the hill toward the town, - was sunny. He looked on life benevolently and found it good. The view - appealed to him more than it had managed to do on other days. As a rule, - he was the man of blood and iron who had no time for admiring scenery, but - to-day he vouchsafed it a not unkindly glance. It was certainly a dandy - little place, this island of his. A vineyard on the right caught his eye. - He made a mental note to uproot it and run up a hotel in its place. - Further down the hill, he selected a site for a villa, where the mimosa - blazed, and another where at present there were a number of utterly - useless violets. A certain practical element was apt, perhaps, to color - Mr. Scobell's half-hours with nature. - </p> - <p> - The sight of the steamboat leaving the harbor on its journey to Marseilles - gave him another idea. Now that Mervo was a going concern, a real live - proposition, it was high time that it should have an adequate service of - boats. The present system of one a day was absurd. He made a note to look - into the matter. These people wanted waking up. - </p> - <p> - Arriving at the Palace, he was informed that His Highness had gone out - shortly after breakfast, and had not returned. The majordomo gave the - information with a tinkle of disapproval in his voice. Before taking up - his duties at Mervo, he had held a similar position in the household of a - German prince, where rigid ceremonial obtained, and John's cheerful - disregard of the formalities frankly shocked him. To take the present case - for instance: When His Highness of Swartzheim had felt inclined to enjoy - the air of a morning, it had been a domestic event full of stir and pomp. - He had not merely crammed a soft hat over his eyes and strolled out with - his hands in his pockets, but without a word to his household staff as to - where he was going or when he might be expected to return. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell received the news equably, and directed his chauffeur to - return to the villa. He could not have done better, for, on his arrival, - he was met with the information that His Highness had called to see him - shortly after he had left, and was now waiting in the morning-room. - </p> - <p> - The sound of footsteps came to Mr. Scobell's ears as he approached the - room. His Highness appeared to be pacing the floor like a caged animal at - the luncheon hour. The resemblance was heightened by the expression in the - royal eye as His Highness swung round at the opening of the door and faced - the financier. - </p> - <p> - "Why, say, Prince," said Mr. Scobell, "this is lucky. I been looking for - you. I just been to the Palace, and the main guy there told me you had - gone out." - </p> - <p> - "I did. And I met your stepdaughter." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell was astonished. Fate was certainly smoothing his way if it - arranged meetings between Betty and the Prince before he had time to do it - himself. There might be no need for the iron hand after all. - </p> - <p> - "You did?" he said. "Say, how the Heck did you come to do that? What did - you know about Betty?" - </p> - <p> - "Miss Silver and I had met before, in America, when I was in college." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell slapped his thigh joyously. - </p> - <p> - "Gee, it's all working out like a fiction story in the magazines!" - </p> - <p> - "Is it?" said John. "How? And, for the matter of that, what?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell answered question with question. "Say, Prince, you and Betty - were pretty good friends in the old days, I guess?" - </p> - <p> - John looked at him coldly. - </p> - <p> - "We won't discuss that, if you don't mind," he said. - </p> - <p> - His tone annoyed Mr. Scobell. Off came the velvet glove, and the iron hand - displayed itself. His green eyes glowed dully and the tip of his nose - wriggled, as was its habit in times of emotion. - </p> - <p> - "Is that so?" he cried, regarding John with disfavor. "Well, I guess! - Won't discuss it! You gotta discuss it, Your Royal Texas League Highness! - You want making a head shorter, my bucko. You—" - </p> - <p> - John's demeanor had become so dangerous that he broke off abruptly, and - with an unostentatious movement, as of a man strolling carelessly about - his private sanctum, put himself within easy reach of the door handle. - </p> - <p> - He then became satirical. - </p> - <p> - "Maybe Your Serene, Imperial Two-by-Fourness would care to suggest a - subject we can discuss?" - </p> - <p> - John took a step forward. - </p> - <p> - "Yes, I will," he said between his teeth. "You were talking to Miss Silver - about me this morning. She told me one or two of the things you said, and - they opened my eyes. Until I heard them, I had not quite understood my - position. I do now. You said, among other things, that I was your hired - man." - </p> - <p> - "It wasn't intended for you to hear," said Mr. Scobell, slightly - mollified, "and Betty shouldn't oughter have handed it to you. I don't - wonder you feel raw. I wouldn't say that sort of thing to a guy's face. - Sure, no. Tact's my middle name. But, since you have heard it, well—!" - </p> - <p> - "Don't apologize. You were quite right. I was a fool not to see it before. - No description could have been fairer. You might have said much more. You - might have added that I was nothing more than a steerer for a gambling - hell." - </p> - <p> - "Oh, come, Prince!" - </p> - <p> - There was a knock at the door. A footman entered, bearing, with a detached - air, as if he disclaimed all responsibility, a letter on a silver tray. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell slit the envelope, and began to read. As he did so his eyes - grew round, and his mouth slowly opened till his cigar stump, after - hanging for a moment from his lower lip, dropped off like an exhausted - bivalve and rolled along the carpet. - </p> - <p> - "Prince," he gasped, "she's gone. Betty!" - </p> - <p> - "Gone! What do you mean?" - </p> - <p> - "She's beaten it. She's half-way to Marseilles by now. Gee, and I saw the - darned boat going out!" - </p> - <p> - "She's gone!" - </p> - <p> - "This is from her. Listen what she says: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - "<i>By the time you read this I shall be gone. I am going back - to America as quickly as I can. I am giving this to a boy to - take to you directly the boat has started. Please do not try - to bring me back. I would sooner die than marry the Prince.</i>" -</pre> - <p> - John started violently. - </p> - <p> - "What!" he cried. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell nodded sympathy. - </p> - <p> - "That's what she says. She sure has it in bad for you. What does she mean? - Seeing you and she are old friends—" - </p> - <p> - "I don't understand. Why does she say that to you? Why should she think - that you knew that I had asked her to marry me?" - </p> - <p> - "Eh?" cried Mr. Scobell. "You asked her to marry you? And she turned you - down! Prince, this beats the band. Say, you and I must get together and do - something. The girl's mad. See here, you aren't wise to what's been - happening. I been fixing this thing up. I fetched you over here, and then - I fetched Betty, and I was going to have you two marry. I told Betty all - about it this morning." - </p> - <p> - John cut through his explanations with a sudden sharp cry. A blinding - blaze of understanding had flashed upon him. It was as if he had been - groping his way in a dark cavern and had stumbled unexpectedly into - brilliant sunlight. He understood everything now. Every word that Betty - had spoken, every gesture that she had made, had become amazingly clear. - He saw now why she had shrunk back from him, why her eyes had worn that - look. He dared not face the picture of himself as he must have appeared in - those eyes, the man whom Mr. Benjamin Scobell's Casino was paying to marry - her, the hired man earning his wages by speaking words of love. - </p> - <p> - A feeling of physical sickness came over him. He held to the table for - support as he had held to the sandstone rock. And then came rage, rage - such as he had never felt before, rage that he had not thought himself - capable of feeling. It swept over him in a wave, pouring through his veins - and blinding him, and he clung to the table till his knuckles whitened - under the strain, for he knew that he was very near to murder. - </p> - <p> - A minute passed. He walked to the window, and stood there, looking out. - Vaguely he heard Mr. Scobell's voice at his back, talking on, but the - words had no meaning for him. - </p> - <p> - He had begun to think with a curious coolness. His detachment surprised - him. It was one of those rare moments in a man's life when, from the - outside, through a breach in that wall of excuses and self-deception which - he has been at such pains to build, he looks at himself impartially. - </p> - <p> - The sight that John saw through the wall was not comforting. It was not a - heroic soul that, stripped of its defenses, shivered beneath the scrutiny. - In another mood he would have mended the breach, excusing and extenuating, - but not now. He looked at himself without pity, and saw himself weak, - slothful, devoid of all that was clean and fine, and a bitter contempt - filled him. - </p> - <p> - Outside the window, a blaze of color, Mervo smiled up at him, and suddenly - he found himself loathing its exotic beauty. He felt stifled. This was no - place for a man. A vision of clean winds and wide spaces came to him. - </p> - <p> - And just then, at the foot of the hill, the dome of the Casino caught the - sun, and flashed out in a blaze of gold. - </p> - <p> - He swung round and faced Mr. Scobell. He had made up his mind. - </p> - <p> - The financier was still talking. - </p> - <p> - "So that's how it stands, Prince," he was saying, "and it's up to us to - get busy." - </p> - <p> - John looked at him. - </p> - <p> - "I intend to," he said. - </p> - <p> - "Good boy!" said the financier. - </p> - <p> - "To begin with, I shall run you out of this place, Mr. Scobell." - </p> - <p> - The other gasped. - </p> - <p> - "There is going to be a cleaning-up," John went on. "I've thought it out. - There will be no more gambling in Mervo." - </p> - <p> - "You're crazy with the heat!" gasped Mr. Scobell. "Abolish gambling? You - can't." - </p> - <p> - "I can. That concession of yours isn't worth the paper it's written on. - The Republic gave it to you. The Republic's finished. If you want to - conduct a Casino in Mervo, there's only one man who can give you - permission, and that's myself. The acts of the Republic are not binding on - me. For a week you have been gambling on this island without a concession - and now it's going to stop. Do you understand?" - </p> - <p> - "But, Prince, talk sense." Mr. Scobell's voice was almost tearful. "It's - you who don't understand. Do, for the love of Mike, come down off the roof - and talk sense. Do you suppose that these guys here will stand for this? - Not on your life. Not for a minute. See here. I'm not blaming you. I know - you don't know what you're saying. But listen here. You must cut out this - kind of thing. You mustn't get these ideas in your head. You stick to your - job, and don't butt in on other folks'. Do you know how long you'd stay - Prince of this joint if you started in to monkey with my Casino? Just - about long enough to let you pack a collar-stud and a toothbrush into your - grip. And after that there wouldn't be any more Prince, sonnie. You stick - to your job and I'll stick to mine. You're a mighty good Prince for all - that's required of you. You're ornamental, and you've got get-up in you. - You just keep right on being a good boy, and don't start trying stunts off - your own beat, and you'll do fine. Don't forget that I'm the big noise - here. I'm old Grayback from 'way back in Mervo. See! I've only to twiddle - my fingers and there'll be a revolution and you for the Down-and-Out Club. - Don't you forget it, sonnie." - </p> - <p> - John shrugged his shoulders. - </p> - <p> - "I've said all I have to say. You've had your notice to quit. After - to-night the Casino is closed." - </p> - <p> - "But don't I tell you the people won't stand for it?" - </p> - <p> - "That's for them to decide. They may have some self-respect." - </p> - <p> - "They'll fire you!" - </p> - <p> - "Very well. That will prove that they have not." - </p> - <p> - "Prince, talk sense! You can't mean that you'll throw away a hundred - thousand dollars a year as if it was dirt!" - </p> - <p> - "It is dirt when it's made that way. We needn't discuss it any more." - </p> - <p> - "But, Prince!" - </p> - <p> - "It's finished." - </p> - <p> - "But, say—!" - </p> - <p> - John had left the room. - </p> - <p> - He had been gone several minutes before the financier recovered full - possession of his faculties. - </p> - <p> - When he did, his remarks were brief and to the point. - </p> - <p> - "Bug-house!" he gasped. "Abso-lutely bug-house!" - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX — MERVO CHANGES ITS CONSTITUTION - </h2> - <p> - Humor, if one looks into it, is principally a matter of retrospect. In - after years John was wont to look back with amusement on the revolution - which ejected him from the throne of his ancestors. But at the time its - mirthfulness did not appeal to him. He was in a frenzy of restlessness. He - wanted Betty. He wanted to see her and explain. Explanations could not - restore him to the place he had held in her mind, but at least they would - show her that he was not the thing he had appeared. - </p> - <p> - Mervo had become a prison. He ached for America. But, before he could go, - this matter of the Casino must be settled. It was obvious that it could - only be settled in one way. He did not credit his subjects with the - high-mindedness that puts ideals first and money after. That military and - civilians alike would rally to a man round Mr. Scobell and the Casino he - was well aware. But this did not affect his determination to remain till - the last. If he went now, he would be like a boy who makes a runaway ring - at the doorbell. Until he should receive formal notice of dismissal, he - must stay, although every day had forty-eight hours and every hour twice - its complement of weary minutes. - </p> - <p> - So he waited, chafing, while Mervo examined the situation, turned it over - in its mind, discussed it, slept upon it, discussed it again, and - displayed generally that ponderous leisureliness which is the Mervian's - birthright. - </p> - <p> - Indeed, the earliest demonstration was not Mervian at all. It came from - the visitors to the island, and consisted of a deputation of four, headed - by the wizened little man, who had frowned at John in the Dutch room on - the occasion of his meeting with Betty, and a stolid individual with a - bald forehead and a walrus mustache. - </p> - <p> - The tone of the deputation was, from the first, querulous. The wizened man - had constituted himself spokesman. He introduced the party—the - walrus as Colonel Finch, the others as Herr von Mandelbaum and Mr. - Archer-Cleeve. His own name was Pugh, and the whole party, like the other - visitors whom they represented, had, it seemed, come to Mervo, at great - trouble and expense, to patronize the tables, only to find these suddenly, - without a word of warning, withdrawn from their patronage. And what the - deputation wished to know was, What did it all mean? - </p> - <p> - "We were amazed, sir—Your Highness," said Mr. Pugh. "We could not—we - cannot—understand it. The entire thing is a baffling mystery to us. - We asked the soldiers at the door. They referred us to Mr. Scobell. We - asked Mr. Scobell. He referred us to you. And now we have come, as the - representatives of our fellow visitors to this island, to ask Your - Highness what it means!" - </p> - <p> - "Have a cigar," said John, extending the box. Mr. Pugh waved aside the - preferred gift impatiently. Not so Herr von Mandelbaum, who slid forward - after the manner of one in quest of second base and retired with his prize - to the rear of the little army once more. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Archer-Cleeve, a young man with carefully parted fair hair and the - expression of a strayed sheep, contributed a remark. - </p> - <p> - "No, but I say, by Jove, you know, I mean really, you know, what?" - </p> - <p> - That was Mr. Archer-Cleeve upon the situation. - </p> - <p> - "We have not come here for cigars," said Mr. Pugh. "We have come here, - Your Highness, for an explanation." - </p> - <p> - "Of what?" said John. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Pugh made an impatient gesture. - </p> - <p> - "Do you question my right to rule this massive country as I think best, - Mr. Pugh?" - </p> - <p> - "It is a high-handed proceeding," said the wizened little man. - </p> - <p> - The walrus spoke for the first time. - </p> - <p> - "What say?" he murmured huskily. - </p> - <p> - "I said," repeated Mr. Pugh, raising his voice, "that it was a high-handed - proceeding, Colonel." - </p> - <p> - The walrus nodded heavily, in assent, with closed eyes. - </p> - <p> - "Yah," said Herr von Mandelbaum through the smoke. - </p> - <p> - John looked at the spokesman. - </p> - <p> - "You are from England, Mr. Pugh?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes, sir. I am a British citizen." - </p> - <p> - "Suppose some enterprising person began to run a gambling hell in - Piccadilly, would the authorities look on and smile?" - </p> - <p> - "That is an entirely different matter, sir. You are quibbling. In England - gambling is forbidden by law." - </p> - <p> - "So it is in Mervo, Mr. Pugh." - </p> - <p> - "Tchah!" - </p> - <p> - "What say?" said the walrus. - </p> - <p> - "I said 'Tchah!' Colonel." - </p> - <p> - "Why?" said the walrus. - </p> - <p> - "Because His Highness quibbled." - </p> - <p> - The walrus nodded approvingly. - </p> - <p> - "His Highness did nothing of the sort," said John. "Gambling is forbidden - in Mervo for the same reason that it is forbidden in England, because it - demoralizes the people." - </p> - <p> - "This is absurd, sir. Gambling has been permitted in Mervo for nearly a - year." - </p> - <p> - "But not by me, Mr. Pugh. The Republic certainly granted Mr. Scobell a - concession. But, when I came to the throne, it became necessary for him to - get a concession from me. I refused it. Hence the closed doors." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Archer-Cleeve once more. "But—" He paused. "Forgotten what I was - going to say," he said to the room at large. - </p> - <p> - Herr von Mandelbaum made some remark at the back of his throat, but was - ignored. - </p> - <p> - John spoke again. - </p> - <p> - "If you were a prince, Mr. Pugh, would you find it pleasant to be in the - pay of a gambling hell?" - </p> - <p> - "That is neither here nor—" - </p> - <p> - "On the contrary, it is, very much. I happen to have some self-respect. - I've only just found it out, it's true, but it's there all right. I don't - want to be a prince—take it from me, it's a much overrated - profession—but if I've got to be one, I'll specialize. I won't - combine it with being a bunco steerer on the side. As long as I am on the - throne, this high-toned crap-shooting will continue a back number." - </p> - <p> - "What say?" said the walrus. - </p> - <p> - "I said that, while I am on the throne here, people who feel it necessary - to chant 'Come, little seven!' must do it elsewhere." - </p> - <p> - "I don't understand you," said Mr. Pugh. "Your remarks are absolutely - unintelligible." - </p> - <p> - "Never mind. My actions speak for themselves. It doesn't matter how I - describe it—what it comes to is that the Casino is closed. You can - follow that? Mervo is no longer running wide open. The lid is on." - </p> - <p> - "Then let me tell you, sir—" Mr. Pugh brought a bony fist down with - a thump on the table—"that you are playing with fire. Understand me, - sir, we are not here to threaten. We are a peaceful deputation of - visitors. But I have observed your people, sir. I have watched them - narrowly. And let me tell you that you are walking on a volcano. Already - there are signs of grave discontent." - </p> - <p> - "Already!" cried John. "Already's good. I guess they call it going some in - this infernal country if they can keep awake long enough to take action - within a year after a thing has happened. I don't know if you have any - influence with the populace, Mr. Pugh—you seem a pretty warm and - important sort of person—but, if you have, do please ask them as a - favor to me to get a move on. It's no good saying that I'm walking on a - volcano. I'm from Missouri. I want to be shown. Let's see this volcano. - Bring it out and make it trot around." - </p> - <p> - "You may jest—" - </p> - <p> - "Who's jesting? I'm not. It's a mighty serious thing for me. I want to get - away. The only thing that's keeping me in this forsaken place is this - delay. These people are obviously going to fire me sooner or later. Why on - earth can't they do it at once?" - </p> - <p> - "What say?" said the walrus. - </p> - <p> - "You may well ask, Colonel," said Mr. Pugh, staring amazed at John. "His - Highness appears completely to have lost his senses." - </p> - <p> - The walrus looked at John as if expecting some demonstration of practical - insanity, but, finding him outwardly calm, closed his eyes and nodded - heavily again. - </p> - <p> - "I must say, don't you know," said Mr. Archer-Cleeve, "it beats me, what?" - </p> - <p> - The entire deputation seemed to consider that John's last speech needed - footnotes. - </p> - <p> - John was in no mood to supply them. His patience was exhausted. - </p> - <p> - "I guess we'll call this conference finished," he said. "You've been told - all you came to find out,—my reason for closing the Casino. If it - doesn't strike you as a satisfactory reason, that's up to you. Do what you - like about it. The one thing you may take as a solid fact—and you - can spread it around the town as much as ever you please—is that it - is closed, and is not going to be reopened while I'm ruler here." - </p> - <p> - The deputation then withdrew, reluctantly. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - On the following morning there came a note from Mr. Scobell. It was brief. - "Come on down before the shooting begins," it ran. John tore it up. - </p> - <p> - It was on the same evening that definite hostilities may be said to have - begun. - </p> - <p> - Between the Palace and the market-place there was a narrow street of - flagged stone, which was busy during the early part of the day but - deserted after sundown. Along this street, at about seven o'clock, John - was strolling with a cigarette, when he was aware of a man crouching, with - his back toward him. So absorbed was the man in something which he was - writing on the stones that he did not hear John's approach, and the - latter, coming up from behind was enabled to see over his shoulder. In - large letters of chalk he read the words: <i>"Conspuez le Prince."</i> - </p> - <p> - John's knowledge of French was not profound, but he could understand this, - and it annoyed him. - </p> - <p> - As he looked, the man, squatting on his heels, bent forward to touch up - one of the letters. If he had been deliberately posing, he could not have - assumed a more convenient attitude. - </p> - <p> - John had been a footballer before he was a prince. The temptation was too - much for him. He drew back his foot— - </p> - <p> - There was a howl and a thud, and John resumed his stroll. The first gun - from Fort Sumter had been fired. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - Early next morning a window at the rear of the palace was broken by a - stone, and toward noon one of the soldiers on guard in front of the Casino - was narrowly missed by an anonymous orange. For Mervo this was practically - equivalent to the attack on the Bastille, and John, when the report of the - atrocities was brought to him, became hopeful. - </p> - <p> - But the effort seemed temporarily to have exhausted the fury of the mob. - The rest of that day and the whole of the next passed without sensation. - </p> - <p> - After breakfast on the following morning Mr. Crump paid a visit to the - Palace. John was glad to see him. The staff of the Palace were loyal, but - considered as cheery companions, they were handicapped by the fact that - they spoke no English, while John spoke no French. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Crump was the bearer of another note from Mr. Scobell. This time John - tore it up unread, and, turning to the secretary, invited him to sit down - and make himself at home. - </p> - <p> - Sipping a cocktail and smoking one of John's cigars, Mr. Crump became - confidential. - </p> - <p> - "This is a queer business," he said. "Old Ben is chewing pieces out of the - furniture up there. He's mad clean through. He's losing money all the - while the people are making up their minds about this thing, and it beats - him why they're so slow." - </p> - <p> - "It beats me, too. I don't believe these hook-worm victims ever turned my - father out. Or, if they did, somebody must have injected radium into them - first. I'll give them another couple of days, and, if they haven't fixed - it by then, I'll go, and leave them to do what they like about it." - </p> - <p> - "Go! Do you want to go?" - </p> - <p> - "Of course I want to go! Do you think I like stringing along in this - musical comedy island? I'm crazy to get back to America. I don't blame - you, Crump, because it was not your fault, but, by George! if I had known - what you were letting me in for when you carried me off here, I'd have - called up the police reserves. Hello! What's this?" - </p> - <p> - He rose to his feet as the sound of agitated voices came from the other - side of the door. The next moment it flew open, revealing General Poineau - and an assorted group of footmen and other domestics. Excitement seemed to - be in the air. - </p> - <p> - General Poineau rushed forward into the room, and flung his arms above his - head. Then he dropped them to his side, and shrugged his shoulders, - finishing in an attitude reminiscent of Plate 6 ("Despair") in "The Home - Reciter." - </p> - <p> - "<i>Mon Prince!"</i> he moaned. - </p> - <p> - A perfect avalanche of French burst from the group outside the door. - </p> - <p> - "Crump!" cried John. "Stand by me, Crump! Get busy! This is where you make - your big play. Never mind the chorus gentlemen in the passage. Concentrate - yourself on Poineau. What's he talking about? I believe he's come to tell - me the people have wakened up. Offer him a cocktail. What's the French for - corpse-reviver? Get busy, Crump." - </p> - <p> - The general had begun to speak rapidly, with a wealth of gestures. It - astonished John that Mr. Crump could follow the harangue as apparently he - did. - </p> - <p> - "Well?" said John. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Crump looked grave. - </p> - <p> - "He says there is a large mob in the market-place. They are talking—" - </p> - <p> - "They would be!" - </p> - <p> - "—of moving in force on the Palace. The Palace Guards have gone over - to the people. General Poineau urges you to disguise yourself and escape - while there is time. You will be safe at his villa till the excitement - subsides, when you can be smuggled over to France during the night—" - </p> - <p> - "Not for mine," said John, shaking his head. "It's mighty good of you, - General, and I appreciate it, but I can't wait till night. The boat leaves - for Marseilles in another hour. I'll catch that. I can manage it - comfortably. I'll go up and pack my grip. Crump, entertain the General - while I'm gone, will you? I won't be a moment." - </p> - <p> - But as he left the room there came through the open window the mutter of a - crowd. He stopped. General Poineau whipped out his sword, and brought it - to the salute. John patted him on the shoulder. - </p> - <p> - "You're a sport, General," he said, "but we sha'n't want it. Come along, - Crump. Come and help me address the multitude." - </p> - <p> - The window of the room looked out on to a square. There was a small - balcony with a stone parapet. As John stepped out, a howl of rage burst - from the mob. - </p> - <p> - John walked on to the balcony, and stood looking down on them, resting his - arms on the parapet. The howl was repeated, and from somewhere at the back - of the crowd came the sharp crack of a rifle, and a shot, the first and - last of the campaign, clipped a strip of flannel from the collar of his - coat and splashed against the wall. - </p> - <p> - A broad smile spread over his face. - </p> - <p> - If he had studied for a year, he could not have hit on a swifter or more - effective method of quieting the mob. There was something so engaging and - friendly in his smile that the howling died away and fists that has been - shaken unclenched themselves and fell. There was an expectant silence in - the square. - </p> - <p> - John beckoned to Crump, who came on to the balcony with some reluctance, - being mistrustful of the unseen sportsman with the rifle. - </p> - <p> - "Tell 'em it's all right, Crump, and that there's no call for any fuss. - From their manner I gather that I am no longer needed on this throne. Ask - them if that's right?" - </p> - <p> - A small man, who appeared to be in command of the crowd, stepped forward - as the secretary finished speaking, and shouted some words which drew a - murmur of approval from his followers. - </p> - <p> - "He wants to know," interpreted Mr. Crump, "if you will allow the Casino - to open again." - </p> - <p> - "Tell him no, but add that I shall be tickled to death to abdicate, if - that's what they want. Speed them up, old man. Tell them to make up their - minds on the jump, because I want to catch that boat. Don't let them get - to discussing it, or they'll stand there talking till sunset. Yes or no. - That's the idea." - </p> - <p> - There was a moment's surprised silence when Mr. Crump had spoken. The - Mervian mind was unused to being hustled in this way. Then a voice - shouted, as it were tentatively, "<i>Vive la Republique!"</i> and at once - the cry was taken up on all sides. - </p> - <p> - John beamed down on them. - </p> - <p> - "That's right," he said. "Bully! I knew you could get a move on as quick - as anyone else, if you gave your minds to it. This is what I call - something like a revolution. It's a model to every country in the world. - But I guess we must close down the entertainment now, or I shall be - missing the boat. Will you tell them, Crump, that any citizen who cares - for a drink and a cigar will find it in the Palace. Tell the household - staff to stand by to pull corks. It's dry work revolutionizing. And now I - really must be going. I've run it mighty fine. Slip one of these fellows - down there half a dollar and send him to fetch a cab. I must step lively." - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - Five minutes later the revolutionists, obviously embarrassed and ill at - ease, were sheepishly gulping down their refreshment beneath the stony eye - of the majordomo and his assistants, while upstairs in the state bedroom - the deposed Prince was whistling "Dixie" and packing the royal pajamas - into a suitcase. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X — MRS. OAKLEY - </h2> - <p> - Betty, when she stepped on board the boat for Marseilles, had had no - definite plan of action. She had been caught up and swept away by an - over-mastering desire for escape that left no room in her mind for - thoughts of the morrow. It was not till the train was roaring its way - across southern France that she found herself sufficiently composed to - review her position and make plans. - </p> - <p> - She would not go back. She could not. The words she had used in her letter - to Mr. Scobell were no melodramatic rhetoric. They were a plain and - literal statement of the truth. Death would be infinitely preferable to - life at Mervo on her stepfather's conditions. - </p> - <p> - But, that settled, what then? What was she to do? The gods are - businesslike. They sell; they do not give. And for what they sell they - demand a heavy price. We may buy life of them in many ways: with our - honor, our health, our independence, our happiness, with our brains or - with our hands. But somehow or other, in whatever currency we may choose - to pay it, the price must be paid. - </p> - <p> - Betty faced the problem. What had she? What could she give? Her - independence? That, certainly. She saw now what a mockery that fancied - independence had been. She had come and gone as she pleased, her path - smoothed by her stepfather's money, and she had been accustomed to - consider herself free. She had learned wisdom now, and could understand - that it was only by sacrificing such artificial independence that she - could win through to freedom. The world was a market, and the only - independent people in it were those who had a market value. - </p> - <p> - What was her market value? What could she do? She looked back at her life, - and saw that she had dabbled. She had a little of most things—enough - of nothing. She could sketch a little, play a little, sing a little, write - a little. Also—and, as she remembered it, she felt for the first - time a tremor of hope—she could use a typewriter reasonably well. - That one accomplishment stood out in the welter of her thoughts, solid and - comforting, like a rock in a quicksand. It was something definite, - something marketable, something of value for which persons paid. - </p> - <p> - The tremor of hope did not comfort her long. Her mood was critical, and - she saw that in this, her one accomplishment, she was, as in everything - else, an amateur. She could not compete against professionals. She closed - her eyes, and had a momentary vision of those professionals, keen of face, - leathern of finger, rattling out myriads of words at a dizzy speed. And, - at that, all her courage suddenly broke; she drooped forlornly, and, - hiding her face on the cushioned arm-rest, she began to cry. - </p> - <p> - Tears are the Turkish bath of the soul. Nature never intended woman to - pass dry-eyed through crises of emotion. A casual stranger, meeting Betty - on her way to the boat, might have thought that she looked a little - worried,—nothing more. The same stranger, if he had happened to - enter the compartment at this juncture, would have set her down at sight - as broken-hearted beyond recovery. Yet such is the magic of tears that it - was at this very moment that Betty was beginning to be conscious of a - distinct change for the better. Her heart still ached, and to think of - John even for an instant was to feel the knife turning in the wound, but - her brain was clear; the panic fear had gone, and she faced the future - resolutely once more. For she had just remembered the existence of Mrs. - Oakley. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - Only once in her life had Betty met her stepfather's celebrated aunt, and - the meeting had taken place nearly twelve years ago. The figure that - remained in her memory was of a pale-eyed, grenadier-like old lady, almost - entirely surrounded by clocks. It was these clocks that had impressed her - most. She was too young to be awed by the knowledge that the tall old - woman who stared at her just like a sandy cat she had once possessed was - one of the three richest women in the whole wide world. She only - remembered thinking that the finger which emerged from the plaid shawl and - prodded her cheek was unpleasantly bony. But the clocks had absorbed her. - It was as if all the clocks in the world had been gathered together into - that one room. There had been big clocks, with almost human faces; small, - perky clocks; clocks of strange shape; and one dingy, medium-sized clock - in particular which had made her cry out with delight. Her visit had - chanced to begin shortly before eleven in the morning, and she had not - been in the room ten minutes before there was a whirring, and the majority - of the clocks began to announce the hour, each after its own fashion—some - with a slow bloom, some with a rapid, bell-like sound. But the - medium-sized clock, unexpectedly belying its appearance of being nothing - of particular importance, had performed its task in a way quite distinct - from the others. It had suddenly produced from its interior a shabby - little gold man with a trumpet, who had blown eleven little blasts before - sliding backward into his house and shutting the door after him. Betty had - waited in rapt silence till he finished, and had then shouted eagerly for - more. - </p> - <p> - Just as the beginner at golf may effect a drive surpassing that of the - expert, so may a child unconsciously eclipse the practised courtier. There - was no soft side to Mrs. Oakley's character, as thousands of suave - would-be borrowers had discovered in their time, but there was a soft - spot. To general praise of her collection of clocks she was impervious; it - was unique, and she did not require you to tell her so, but exhibit - admiration for the clock with the little trumpeter, and she melted. It was - the one oasis of sentiment in the Sahara of her mental outlook, the grain - of radium in the pitchblende. Years ago it had stood in a little New - England farmhouse, and a child had clapped her hands and shouted, even as - Betty had done, when the golden man slid from his hiding-place. Much water - had flowed beneath the bridge since those days. Many things had happened - to the child. But she still kept her old love for the trumpeter. The world - knew nothing of this. The world, if it had known, would have been - delighted to stand before the clock and admire it volubly, by the day. But - it had no inkling of the trumpeter's importance, and, when it came to - visit Mrs. Oakley, was apt to waste its time showering compliments on the - obvious beauties of the queens of the collection. - </p> - <p> - But Betty, ignoring these, jumped up and down before the dingy clock, - demanding further trumpetings, and, turning to Mrs. Oakley, as one - possessing influence, she was aware of a curious, intent look in the old - lady's eyes. - </p> - <p> - "Do you like that clock, my dear?" said Mrs. Oakley. - </p> - <p> - "Yes! Oh, yes!" - </p> - <p> - "Perhaps you shall have it some day, honey." - </p> - <p> - Betty was probably the only person who had been admitted to that room who - would not, on the strength of this remark, have steered the conversation - gently to the subject of a small loan. Instead, she ran to the old lady, - and kissed her. And, as to what had happened after that, memory was vague. - There had been some talk, she remembered, of a dollar to buy candy, but it - had come to nothing, and now that she had grown older and had read the - frequent paragraphs and anecdotes that appeared in the papers about her - stepfather's aunt, she could understand why. She knew now what everybody - knew of Mrs. Oakley—her history, her eccentricities, and the - miserliness of which the papers spoke with a satirical lightness that - seemed somehow but a thin disguise for what was almost admiration. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Oakley was one of two children, a son and a daughter, of a Vermont - farmer. Of her early life no records remain. Her public history begins - when she was twenty-two and came to New York. After two years' struggling, - she found a position in the firm of one Redgrave. Those who knew her then - speak of her as a tall, handsome girl, hard and intensely ambitious. From - contemporary accounts she seems to have out-Nietzsched Nietzsche. - Nietzsche's vision stopped short at the superman. Jane Scobell was a - superwoman. She had all the titanic selfishness and indifference to the - comfort of others which marks the superman, and, in addition, undeniable - good looks and a knowledge of the weaknesses of men. Poor Mr. Redgrave had - not had a chance from the start. She married him within a year. Two years - later, catching the bulls in an unguarded moment, Mr. Redgrave despoiled - them of a trifle over three million dollars, and died the same day of an - apoplectic stroke caused by the excitement of victory. His widow, after a - tour in Europe, returned to the United States and visited Pittsburg. Any - sociologist will support the statement that it is difficult, almost - impossible, for an attractive widow, visiting Pittsburg, not to marry a - millionaire, even if she is not particularly anxious to do so. If such an - act is the primary object of her visit, the thing becomes a certainty. - Groping through the smoke, Jane Redgrave seized and carried off no less a - quarry than Alexander Baynes Oakley, a widower, whose income was one of - the seven wonders of the world. In the fullness of time he, too, died, and - Jane Oakley was left with the sole control of two vast fortunes. - </p> - <p> - She did not marry again, though it was rumored that it took three - secretaries, working nine hours a day, to cope with the written proposals, - and that butler after butler contracted clergyman's sore throat through - denying admittance to amorous callers. In the ten years after Alexander - Baynes' death, every impecunious aristocrat in the civilized world must - have made his dash for the matrimonial pole. But her pale eyes looked them - over, and dismissed them. - </p> - <p> - During those early years she was tempted once or twice to speculation. A - failure in a cotton deal not only cured her of this taste, but seems to - have marked the point in her career when her thoughts began to turn to - parsimony. Until then she had lived in some state, but now, gradually at - first, then swiftly, she began to cut down her expenses. Now we find her - in an apartment in West Central Park, next in a Washington Square hotel, - then in a Harlem flat, and finally—her last, fixed abiding-place—in - a small cottage on Staten Island. - </p> - <p> - It was a curious life that she led, this woman who could have bought - kingdoms if she had willed it. A Swedish maid-of-all-work was her only - companion. By day she would walk in her little garden, or dust, arrange - and wind up her clocks. At night, she would knit, or read one of the - frequent reports that arrived at the cottage from charity workers on the - East Side. Those were her two hobbies, and her only extravagances—clocks - and charity. - </p> - <p> - Her charity had its limitations. In actual money she expended little. She - was a theoretical philanthropist. She lent her influence, her time, and - her advice, but seldom her bank balance. Arrange an entertainment for the - delectation of the poor, and you would find her on the platform, but her - name would not be on the list of subscribers to the funds. She would - deliver a lecture on thrift to an audience of factory girls, and she would - give them a practical example of what she preached. - </p> - <p> - Yet, with all its limitations, her charity was partly genuine. Her mind - was like a country in the grip of civil war. One-half of her sincerely - pitied the poor, burned at any story of oppression, and cried "Give!" but - the other cried "Halt!" and held her back, and between the two she fell. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - It was to this somewhat unpromising haven of refuge that Betty's mind now - turned in her trouble. She did not expect great things. She could not have - said exactly what she did expect. But, at least, the cottage on Staten - Island offered a resting-place on her journey, even if it could not be the - journey's end. Her mad dash from Mervo ceased to be objectless. It led - somewhere. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI — A LETTER OF INTRODUCTION - </h2> - <p> - New York, revisited, had much the same effect on Betty as it had had on - John during his first morning of independence. As the liner came up the - bay, and the great buildings stood out against the clear blue of the sky, - she felt afraid and lonely. That terror which is said to attack immigrants - on their first sight of the New York sky-line came to her, as she leaned - on the rail, and with it a feeling of utter misery. By a continual effort - during the voyage she had kept her thoughts from turning to John, but now - he rose up insistently before her, and she realized all that had gone out - of her life. - </p> - <p> - She rebelled against the mad cruelty of the fate which had brought them - together again. It seemed to her now that she must always have loved him, - but it had been such a vague, gentle thing, this love, before that last - meeting—hardly more than a pleasant accompaniment to her life, - something to think about in idle moments, a help and a support when things - were running crosswise. She had been so satisfied with it, so content to - keep him a mere memory. It seemed so needless and wanton to destroy her - illusion. - </p> - <p> - Of love as a wild-beast passion, tearing and torturing quite ordinary - persons like herself, she had always been a little sceptical. The great - love poems of the world, when she read them, had always left her with the - feeling that their authors were of different clay from herself and had no - common meeting ground with her. She had seen her friends fall in love, as - they called it, and it had been very pretty and charming, but as far - removed from the frenzies of the poets as an amateur's snapshot of Niagara - from the cataract itself. Elsa Keith, for instance, was obviously very - fond and proud of Marvin, but she seemed perfectly placid about it. She - loved, but she could still spare half an hour for the discussion of a new - frock. Her soul did not appear to have been revolutionized in any way. - </p> - <p> - Gradually Betty had come to the conclusion that love, in the full sense of - the word, was one of the things that did not happen. And now, as if to - punish her presumption, it had leaped from hiding and seized her. - </p> - <p> - There was nothing exaggerated or unintelligible in the poets now. They - ceased to be inhabitants of another world, swayed by curiously complex - emotions. They were her brothers—ordinary men with ordinary feelings - and a strange gift for expressing them. She knew now that it was possible - to hate the man you loved and to love the man you hated, to ache for the - sight of someone even while you fled from him. - </p> - <p> - It did not take her long to pass the Customs. A small grip constituted her - entire baggage. Having left this in the keeping of the amiable proprietor - of a near-by delicatessen store, she made her way to the ferry. - </p> - <p> - Her first enquiry brought her to the cottage. Mrs. Oakley was a celebrity - on Staten Island. - </p> - <p> - At the door she paused for a moment, then knocked. - </p> - <p> - The Swede servant, she who had been there at her former visit, twelve - years ago, received her stolidly. Mrs. Oakley was dusting her clocks. - </p> - <p> - "Ask her if she can see me," said Betty. "I'm—" great step-niece - sounded too ridiculous—"I'm her niece," she said. - </p> - <p> - The handmaid went and returned, stolid as ever. "Ay tal her vat yu say - about niece, and she say she not knowing any niece," she announced. - </p> - <p> - Betty amended the description, and presently the Swede returned once more, - and motioned her to enter. - </p> - <p> - Like so many scenes of childhood, the room of the clocks was sharply - stamped on Betty's memory, and, as she came into it now, it seemed to her - that nothing had changed. There were the clocks, all round the walls, of - every shape and size, the big clocks with the human faces and the small, - perky clocks. There was the dingy, medium-sized clock that held the - trumpeter. And there, looking at her with just the old sandy-cat - expression in her pale eyes, was Mrs. Oakley. - </p> - <p> - Even the possession of an income of eighteen million dollars and a unique - collection of clocks cannot place a woman above the making of the obvious - remark. - </p> - <p> - "How you have grown!" said Mrs. Oakley. - </p> - <p> - The words seemed to melt the chill that had gathered around Betty's heart. - She had been prepared to enter into long explanations, and the knowledge - that these would not be required was very comforting. - </p> - <p> - "Do you remember me?" she exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - "You are the little girl who clapped her hands at the trumpeter, but you - are not little now." - </p> - <p> - "I'm not so very big," said Betty, smiling. She felt curiously at home, - and pity for the loneliness of this strange old woman caused her to forget - her own troubles. - </p> - <p> - "You look pretty when you smile," said Mrs. Oakley thoughtfully. She - continued to look closely at her. "You are in trouble," she said. - </p> - <p> - Betty met her eyes frankly. - </p> - <p> - "Yes," she said. - </p> - <p> - The old woman bent her head over a Sevres china clock, and stroked it - tenderly with her feather duster. - </p> - <p> - "Why did you run away?" she asked without looking up. - </p> - <p> - Betty had a feeling that the ground was being cut from beneath her feet. - She had expected to have to explain who she was and why she had come, and - behold, both were unnecessary. It was uncanny. And then the obvious - explanation occurred to her. - </p> - <p> - "Did my stepfather cable?" she asked. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Oakley laid down the feather duster and, opening a drawer, produced - some sheets of paper—to the initiated eye plainly one of Mr. - Scobell's lengthy messages. - </p> - <p> - "A wickedly extravagant cable," she said, frowning at it. "He could have - expressed himself perfectly well at a quarter of the expense." - </p> - <p> - Betty began to read. The dimple on her chin appeared for a moment as she - did so. The tone of the message was so obsequious. There was no trace of - the old peremptory note in it. The words "dearest aunt" occurred no fewer - than six times in the course of the essay, its author being apparently - reckless of the fact that it was costing him half a dollar a time. Mrs. - Oakley had been quite right in her criticism. The gist of the cable was, "<i>Betty - has run away to America dearest aunt ridiculous is sure to visit you - please dearest aunt do not encourage her</i>." The rest was pure padding. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Oakley watched her with a glowering eye. "If Bennie Scobell," she - soliloquized, "imagines that he can dictate to me—" She ceased, - leaving an impressive hiatus. Unhappy Mr. Scobell, convicted of dictation - even after three dollars' worth of "dearest aunt!" - </p> - <p> - Betty handed back the cable. Her chin, emblem of war, was tilted and - advanced. - </p> - <p> - "I'll tell you why I ran away, Aunt," she said. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Oakley listened to her story in silence. Betty did not relate it at - great length, for with every word she spoke, the thought of John stabbed - her afresh. She omitted much that has been told in this chronicle. But she - disclosed the essential fact, that Napoleonic Mr. Scobell had tried to - force her into a marriage with a man she did not—she hesitated at - the word—did not respect, she concluded. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Oakley regarded her inscrutably for a while before replying. - </p> - <p> - "Respect!" she said at last. "I have never met a man in my life whom I - could respect. Harpies! Every one of them! Every one of them! Every one of - them!" - </p> - <p> - She was muttering to herself. It is possible that her thoughts were back - with those persevering young aristocrats of her second widowhood. - Certainly, if she had sometimes displayed a touch of the pirate in her - dealings with man, man, it must be said in fairness, had not always shown - his best side to her. - </p> - <p> - "Respect!" she muttered again. "Did you like him, this Prince of yours?" - </p> - <p> - Betty's eyes filled. She made no reply. - </p> - <p> - "Well, never mind," said Mrs. Oakley. "Don't cry, child! I'm not going to - press you. You must have hated him or else loved him very much, or you - would never have run away.... Dictate to me!" she broke off, half-aloud, - her mind evidently once more on Mr. Scobell's unfortunate cable. - </p> - <p> - Betty could bear it no longer. - </p> - <p> - "I loved him!" she cried. "I loved him!" - </p> - <p> - She was shaking with dry sobs. She felt the old woman's eyes upon her, but - she could not stop. - </p> - <p> - A sudden whirr cut through the silence. One of the large clocks near the - door was beginning to strike the hour. Instantly the rest began to do the - same, till the room was full of the noise. And above the din there sounded - sharp and clear the note of the little trumpet. - </p> - <p> - The noise died away with metallic echoings. - </p> - <p> - "Honey!" - </p> - <p> - It was a changed voice that spoke. Betty looked up, and saw that the eyes - that met hers were very soft. She moved quickly to the old woman's side. - </p> - <p> - "Honey, I'm going to tell you something about myself that nobody dreams - of. Betty, when I was your age, <i>I</i> ran away from a man because I - loved him. It was just a little village tragedy, my dear. I think he was - fond of me, but father was poor and her folks were the great people of the - place, and he married her. And I ran away, like you, and went to New - York." - </p> - <p> - Betty pressed her hand. It was trembling. - </p> - <p> - "I'm so sorry," she whispered. - </p> - <p> - "I went to New York because I wanted to kill my heart. And I killed it. - There's only one way. Work! Work! Work!" She was sitting bolt upright, and - the soft look had gone out of her eyes. They were hard and fiery under the - drawn brows. "Work! Ah, I worked! I never rested. For two years. Two whole - years. It fought back at me. It tore me to bits. But I wouldn't stop. I - worked on, I killed it." - </p> - <p> - She stopped, quivering. Betty was cold with a nameless dismay. She felt as - if she were standing in the dark on the brink of an abyss. - </p> - <p> - The old woman began to speak again. - </p> - <p> - "Child, it's the same with you. Your heart's tearing you. Don't let it! It - will get worse and worse if you are afraid of it. Fight it! Kill it! - Work!" - </p> - <p> - She stopped again, clenching and unclenching her fingers, as if she were - strangling some living thing. There was silence for a long moment. - </p> - <p> - "What can you do?" she asked suddenly. - </p> - <p> - Her voice was calm and unemotional again. The abruptness of the transition - from passion to the practical took Betty aback. She could not speak. - </p> - <p> - "There must be something," continued Mrs. Oakley. "When I was your age I - had taught myself bookkeeping, shorthand, and typewriting. What can you - do? Can you use a typewriter?" - </p> - <p> - Blessed word! - </p> - <p> - "Yes," said Betty promptly. - </p> - <p> - "Well?" - </p> - <p> - "Not very well?" - </p> - <p> - "H'm. Well, I expect you will do it well enough for Mr. Renshaw—on - my recommendation. I'll give you a letter to him. He is the editor of a - small weekly paper. I don't know how much he will offer you, but take it - and <i>work!</i> You'll find him pleasant. I have met him at charity - organization meetings on the East Side. He's useful at the entertainments—does - conjuring tricks—stupid, but they seem to amuse people. You'll find - him pleasant. There." - </p> - <p> - She had been writing the letter of introduction during the course of these - remarks. At the last word she blotted it, and placed it in an envelope. - </p> - <p> - "That's the address," she said. "J. Brabazon Renshaw, Office of <i>Peaceful - Moments</i>. Take it to him now. Good-by." - </p> - <p> - It was as if she were ashamed of her late display of emotion. She spoke - abruptly, and her pale eyes were expressionless. Betty thanked her and - turned to go. - </p> - <p> - "Tell me how you get on," said Mrs. Oakley. - </p> - <p> - "Yes," said Betty. - </p> - <p> - "And <i>work</i>. Keep on working!" - </p> - <p> - There was a momentary return of her former manner as she spoke the words, - and Betty wavered. She longed to say something comforting, something that - would show that she understood. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Oakley had taken up the feather duster again. - </p> - <p> - "Steena will show you out," she said curtly. And Betty was aware of the - stolid Swede in the doorway. The interview was plainly at an end. - </p> - <p> - "Good-by, Aunt," she said, "and thank you ever so much—for - everything." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII — "PEACEFUL MOMENTS" - </h2> - <p> - The man in the street did not appear to know it, but a great crisis was - imminent in New York journalism. - </p> - <p> - Everything seemed much as usual in the city. The cars ran blithely on - Broadway. Newsboys shouted their mystic slogan, "Wuxtry!" with - undiminished vim. Society thronged Fifth Avenue without a furrow on its - brow. At a thousand street corners a thousand policemen preserved their - air of massive superiority to the things of this world. Of all the four - million not one showed the least sign of perturbation. - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless, the crisis was at hand. Mr. J. Brabazon Renshaw, - Editor-in-chief of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, was about to leave his post - and start on a three-months' vacation. - </p> - <p> - <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, as its name (an inspiration of Mr. Renshaw's own) - was designed to imply, was a journal of the home. It was the sort of paper - which the father of the family is expected to take back with him from the - office and read aloud to the chicks before bedtime under the shade of the - rubber plant. - </p> - <p> - Circumstances had left the development of the paper almost entirely to Mr. - Renshaw. Its contents were varied. There was a "Moments in the Nursery" - page, conducted by Luella Granville Waterman and devoted mainly to - anecdotes of the family canary, by Jane (aged six), and similar works of - the younger set. There was a "Moments of Meditation" page, conducted by - the Reverend Edwin T. Philpotts; a "Moments among the Masters" page, - consisting of assorted chunks looted from the literature of the past, when - foreheads were bulged and thoughts profound, by Mr. Renshaw himself; one - or two other special pages; a short story; answers to correspondents on - domestic matters; and a "Moments of Mirth" page, conducted by one B. - Henderson Asher—a very painful affair. - </p> - <p> - The proprietor of this admirable journal was that Napoleon of finance, Mr. - Benjamin Scobell. - </p> - <p> - That this should have been so is but one proof of the many-sidedness of - that great man. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell had founded <i>Peaceful Moments</i> at an early stage in his - career, and it was only at very rare intervals nowadays that he - recollected that he still owned it. He had so many irons in the fire now - that he had no time to waste his brain tissues thinking about a paper like - <i>Peaceful Moments</i>. It was one of his failures. It certainly paid its - way and brought him a small sum each year, but to him it was a failure, a - bombshell that had fizzled. - </p> - <p> - He had intended to do big things with <i>Peaceful Moments</i>. He had - meant to start a new epoch in the literature of Manhattan. - </p> - <p> - "I gottan idea," he had said to Miss Scobell. "All this yellow journalism—red - blood and all that—folks are tired of it. They want something - milder. Wholesome, see what I mean? There's money in it. Guys make a roll - too big to lift by selling soft drinks, don't they? Well, I'm going to run - a soft-drink paper. See?" - </p> - <p> - The enterprise had started well. To begin with, he had found the ideal - editor. He had met Mr. Renshaw at a down-East gathering presided over by - Mrs. Oakley, and his Napoleonic eye had seen in J. Brabazon the seeds of - domestic greatness. Before they parted, he had come to terms with him. Nor - had the latter failed to justify his intuition. He made an admirable - editor. It was not Mr. Renshaw's fault that the new paper had failed to - electrify America. It was the public on whom the responsibility for the - failure must be laid. They spoiled the whole thing. Certain of the - faithful subscribed, it is true, and continued to subscribe, but the great - heart of the public remained untouched. The great heart of the public - declined to be interested in the meditations of Mr. Philpotts and the - humor of Mr. B. Henderson Asher, and continued to spend its money along - the bad old channels. The thing began to bore Mr. Scobell. He left the - conduct of the journal more and more to Mr. Renshaw, until finally—it - was just after the idea for extracting gold from sea water had struck him—he - put the whole business definitely out of his mind. (His actual words were - that he never wanted to see or hear of the darned thing again, inasmuch as - it gave him a pain in the neck.) Mr. Renshaw was given a free hand as to - the editing, and all matters of finance connected with the enterprise were - placed in the hands of Mr. Scobell's solicitors, who had instructions to - sell the journal, if, as its owner crisply put it, they could find any - chump who was enough of a darned chump to give real money for it. Up to - the present the great army of chumps had fallen short of this ideal - standard of darned chumphood. - </p> - <p> - Ever since this parting of the ways, Mr. Renshaw had been in his element. - Under his guidance <i>Peaceful Moments</i> had reached a level of - domesticity which made other so-called domestic journals look like - sporting supplements. But at last the work had told upon him. Whether it - was the effort of digging into the literature of the past every week, or - the strain of reading B. Henderson Asher's "Moments of Mirth" is - uncertain. At any rate, his labors had ended in wrecking his health to - such an extent that the doctor had ordered him three months' complete - rest, in the woods or mountains, whichever he preferred; and, being a - farseeing man, who went to the root of things, had absolutely declined to - consent to Mr. Renshaw's suggestion that he keep in touch with the paper - during his vacation. He was adamant. He had seen copies of <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> once or twice, and refused to permit a man in Mr. Renshaw's - state of health to come in contact with Luella Granville Waterman's - "Moments in the Nursery" and B. Henderson Asher's "Moments of Mirth." - </p> - <p> - "You must forget that such a paper exists," he said. "You must dismiss the - whole thing from your mind, live in the open, and develop some flesh and - muscle." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw had bowed before the sentence, howbeit gloomily, and now, on - the morning of Betty's departure from Mrs. Oakley's house with the letter - of introduction, was giving his final instructions to his temporary - successor. - </p> - <p> - This temporary successor in the editorship was none other than John's - friend, Rupert Smith, late of the <i>News</i>. - </p> - <p> - Smith, on leaving Harvard, had been attracted by newspaper work, and had - found his first billet on a Western journal of the type whose society - column consists of such items as "Jim Thompson was to town yesterday with - a bunch of other cheap skates. We take this opportunity of once more - informing Jim that he is a liar and a skunk," and whose editor works with - a pistol on his desk and another in his hip-pocket. Graduating from this, - he had proceeded to a reporter's post on a daily paper in Kentucky, where - there were blood feuds and other Southern devices for preventing life from - becoming dull. All this was good, but even while he enjoyed these - experiences, New York, the magnet, had been tugging at him, and at last, - after two eventful years on the Kentucky paper, he had come East, and - eventually won through to the staff of the <i>News</i>. - </p> - <p> - His presence in the office of <i>Peaceful Moments</i> was due to the - uncomfortable habit of most of the New York daily papers of cutting down - their staff of reporters during the summer. The dismissed had, to sustain - them, the knowledge that they would return, like the swallows, anon, and - be received back into their old places; but in the meantime they suffered - the inconvenience of having to support themselves as best they could. - Smith, when, in the company of half-a-dozen others, he had had to leave - the <i>News</i>, had heard of the vacant post of assistant editor on <i>Peaceful - Moments</i>, and had applied for and received it. Whereby he was more - fortunate than some of his late colleagues; though, as the character of - his new work unrolled itself before him, he was frequently doubtful on - that point. For the atmosphere of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, however - wholesome, was certainly not exciting, and his happened to be essentially - a nature that needed the stimulus of excitement. Even in Park Row, the - denizens of which street are rarely slaves to the conventional and safe, - he had a well-established reputation in this matter. Others of his - acquaintances welcomed excitement when it came to them in the course of - the day's work, but it was Smith's practise to go in search of it. He was - a young man of spirit and resource. - </p> - <p> - His appearance, to those who did not know him, hardly suggested this. He - was very tall and thin, with a dark, solemn face. He was a purist in the - matter of clothes, and even in times of storm and stress presented an - immaculate appearance to the world. In his left eye, attached to a cord, - he wore a monocle. - </p> - <p> - Through this, at the present moment, he was gazing benevolently at Mr. - Renshaw, as the latter fussed about the office in the throes of departure. - To the editor's rapid fire of advice and warning he listened with the - pleased and indulgent air of a father whose infant son frisks before him. - Mr. Renshaw interested him. To Smith's mind Mr. Renshaw, put him in any - show you pleased, would alone have been worth the price of admission. - </p> - <p> - "Well," chirruped the holiday-maker—he was a little man with a long - neck, and he always chirruped—"Well, I think that is all, Mr. Smith. - Oh, ah, yes! The stenographer. You will need a new stenographer." - </p> - <p> - The <i>Peaceful Moments</i> stenographer had resigned her position three - days before, in order to get married. - </p> - <p> - "Unquestionably, Comrade Renshaw," said Smith. "A blonde." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw looked annoyed. - </p> - <p> - "I have told you before, Mr. Smith, I object to your addressing me as - Comrade. It is not—it is not—er—fitting." - </p> - <p> - Smith waved a deprecating hand. - </p> - <p> - "Say no more," he said. "I will correct the habit. I have been studying - the principles of Socialism somewhat deeply of late, and I came to the - conclusion that I must join the cause. It looked good to me. You work for - the equal distribution of property, and start in by swiping all you can - and sitting on it. A noble scheme. Me for it. But I am interrupting you." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw had to pause for a moment to reorganize his ideas. - </p> - <p> - "I think—ah, yes. I think it would be best perhaps to wait for a day - or two in case Mrs. Oakley should recommend someone. I mentioned the - vacancy in the office to her, and she said she would give the matter her - attention. I should prefer, if possible, to give the place to her nominee. - She—" - </p> - <p> - "—has eighteen million a year," said Smith. "I understand. Scatter - seeds of kindness." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw looked at him sharply. Smith's face was solemn and thoughtful. - </p> - <p> - "Nothing of the kind," the editor said, after a pause. "I should prefer - Mrs. Oakley's nominee because Mrs. Oakley is a shrewd, practical woman who—er—who—who, - in fact—" - </p> - <p> - "Just so," said Smith, eying him gravely through the monocle. "Entirely." - </p> - <p> - The scrutiny irritated Mr. Renshaw. - </p> - <p> - "Do put that thing away, Mr. Smith," he said. - </p> - <p> - "That thing?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes, that ridiculous glass. Put it away." - </p> - <p> - "Instantly," said Smith, replacing the monocle in his vest-pocket. "You - object to it? Well, well, many people do. We all have these curious likes - and dislikes. It is these clashings of personal taste which constitute - what we call life. Yes. You were saying?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw wrinkled his forehead. - </p> - <p> - "I have forgotten what I intended to say," he said querulously. "You have - driven it out of my head." - </p> - <p> - Smith clicked his tongue sympathetically. Mr. Renshaw looked at his watch. - </p> - <p> - "Dear me," he said, "I must be going. I shall miss my train. But I think I - have covered the ground quite thoroughly. You understand everything?" - </p> - <p> - "Absolutely," said Smith. "I look on myself as some engineer controlling a - machine with a light hand on the throttle. Or like some faithful hound - whose master—" - </p> - <p> - "Ah! There is just one thing. Mrs. Julia Burdett Parslow is a little - inclined to be unpunctual with her 'Moments with Budding Girlhood.' If - this should happen while I am away, just write her a letter, quite a - pleasant letter, you understand, pointing out the necessity of being in - good time. She must realize that we are a machine." - </p> - <p> - "Exactly," murmured Smith. - </p> - <p> - "The machinery of the paper cannot run smoothly unless contributors are in - good time with their copy." - </p> - <p> - "Precisely," said Smith. "They are the janitors of the literary world. Let - them turn off the steam heat, and where are we? If Mrs. Julia Burdett - Parslow is not up to time with the hot air, how shall our 'Girlhood' - escape being nipped in the bud?" - </p> - <p> - "And there is just one other thing. I wish you would correct a slight - tendency I have noticed lately in Mr. Asher to be just a trifle—well, - not precisely risky, but perhaps a shade broad in his humor." - </p> - <p> - "Young blood!" sighed Smith. "Young blood!" - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Asher is a very sensible man, and he will understand. Well, that is - all, I think. Now, I really must be going. Good-by, Mr. Smith." - </p> - <p> - "Good-by." - </p> - <p> - At the door Mr. Renshaw paused with the air of an exile bidding farewell - to his native land, sighed and trotted out. - </p> - <p> - Smith put his feet upon the table, flicked a speck of dust from his - coat-sleeve, and resumed his task of reading the proofs of Luella - Granville Waterman's "Moments in the Nursery." - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - He had not been working long, when Pugsy Maloney, the office boy, entered. - </p> - <p> - "Say!" said Pugsy. - </p> - <p> - "Say on, Comrade Maloney." - </p> - <p> - "Dere's a loidy out dere wit a letter for Mr. Renshaw." - </p> - <p> - "Have you acquainted her with the fact that Mr. Renshaw has passed to - other climes?" - </p> - <p> - "Huh?" - </p> - <p> - "Have you, in the course of your conversation with this lady, mentioned - that Mr. Renshaw has beaten it?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure, I did. And she says can she see you?" - </p> - <p> - Smith removed his feet from the table. - </p> - <p> - "Certainly," he said. "Who am I that I should deny people these little - treats? Ask her to come in, Comrade Maloney." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII — BETTY MAKES A FRIEND - </h2> - <p> - Betty had appealed to Master Maloney's esthetic sense of beauty directly - she appeared before him. It was with regret, therefore, rather than with - the usual calm triumph of the office boy, that he informed her that the - editor was not in. Also, seeing that she was evidently perturbed by the - information, he had gone out of his way to suggest that she lay her - business, whatever it might be, before Mr. Renshaw's temporary successor. - </p> - <p> - Smith received her with Old-World courtesy. - </p> - <p> - "Will you sit down?" he said. "Not to wait for Comrade Renshaw, of course. - He will not be back for another three months. Perhaps I can help you. I am - acting editor. The work is not light," he added gratuitously. "Sometimes - the cry goes round New York, 'Can Smith get through it all? Will his - strength support his unquenchable spirit?' But I stagger on. I do not - repine. What was it that you wished to see Comrade Renshaw about?" - </p> - <p> - He swung his monocle lightly by its cord. For the first time since she had - entered the office Betty was rather glad that Mr. Renshaw was away. - Conscious of her defects as a stenographer she had been looking forward - somewhat apprehensively to the interview with her prospective employer. - But this long, solemn youth put her at her ease. His manner suggested in - some indefinable way that the whole thing was a sort of round game. - </p> - <p> - "I came about the typewriting," she said. - </p> - <p> - Smith looked at her with interest. - </p> - <p> - "Are you the nominee?" - </p> - <p> - "I beg your pardon?" - </p> - <p> - "Do you come from Mrs. Oakley?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes." - </p> - <p> - "Then all is well. The decks have been cleared against your coming. - Consider yourself engaged as our official typist. By the way, <i>can</i> - you type?" - </p> - <p> - Betty laughed. This was certainly not the awkward interview she had been - picturing in her mind. - </p> - <p> - "Yes," she said, "but I'm afraid I'm not very good at it." - </p> - <p> - "Never mind," said Smith. "I'm not very good at editing. Yet here I am. I - foresee that we shall make an ideal team. Together, we will toil early and - late till we whoop up this domestic journal into a shining model of what a - domestic journal should be. What that is, at present, I do not exactly - know. Excursion trains will be run from the Middle West to see this - domestic journal. Visitors from Oshkosh will do it before going on to - Grant's tomb. What exactly is your name?" - </p> - <p> - Betty hesitated. Yes, perhaps it would be better. "Brown," she said. - </p> - <p> - "Mine is Smith. The smiling child in the outer office is Pugsy Maloney, - one of our most prominent citizens. Homely in appearance, perhaps, but one - of us. You will get to like Comrade Maloney. And now, to touch on a - painful subject—work. Would you care to start in now, or have you - any other engagements? Perhaps you wish to see the sights of this - beautiful little city before beginning? You would prefer to start in now? - Excellent. You could not have come at a more suitable time, for I was on - the very point of sallying out to purchase about twenty-five cents' worth - of lunch. We editors, Comrade Brown, find that our tissues need constant - restoration, such is the strenuous nature of our duties. You will find one - or two letters on that table. Good-by, then, for the present." - </p> - <p> - He picked up his hat, smoothed it carefully and with a courtly inclination - of his head, left the room. - </p> - <p> - Betty sat down, and began to think. So she was really earning her own - living! It was a stimulating thought. She felt a little bewildered. She - had imagined something so different. Mrs. Oakley had certainly said that - <i>Peaceful Moments</i> was a small paper, but despite that, her - imagination had conjured up visions of bustle and activity, and a - peremptory, overdriven editor, snapping out words of command. Smith, with - his careful speech and general air of calm detachment from the noisy side - of life, created an atmosphere of restfulness. If this was a sample of - life in the office, she thought, the paper had been well named. She felt - soothed and almost happy. - </p> - <p> - Interesting and exciting things, New York things, began to happen at once. - To her, meditating, there entered Pugsy Maloney, the guardian of the gate - of this shrine of Peace, a nonchalant youth of about fifteen, with a - freckled, mask-like face, the expression of which never varied, bearing in - his arms a cat. The cat was struggling violently, but he appeared quite - unconscious of it. Its existence did not seem to occur to him. - </p> - <p> - "Say!" said Pugsy. - </p> - <p> - Betty was fond of cats. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, don't hurt her!" she cried anxiously. - </p> - <p> - Master Maloney eyed the cat as if he were seeing it for the first time. - </p> - <p> - "I wasn't hoitin' her," he said, without emotion. "Dere was two fresh kids - in the street sickin' a dawg on to her. And I comes up and says, 'G'wan! - What do youse t'ink youse doin', fussin' de poor dumb animal?' An' one of - de guys, he says, 'G'wan! Who do youse t'ink youse is?' An' I says, 'I'm - de guy what's goin' to swat youse on de coco, smarty, if youse don't quit - fussin' de poor dumb animal.' So wit' dat he makes a break at swattin' me - one, but I swats him one, an' I swats de odder feller one, an' den I swats - dem bote some more, an' I gits de kitty, an' I brings her in here, cos I - t'inks maybe youse'll look after her. I can't be boddered myself. Cats is - foolishness." - </p> - <p> - And, having finished this Homeric narrative, Master Maloney fixed an - expressionless eye on the ceiling, and was silent. - </p> - <p> - "How splendid of you, Pugsy!" cried Betty. "She might have been killed, - poor thing." - </p> - <p> - "She had it pretty fierce," admitted Master Maloney, gazing - dispassionately at the rescued animal, which had escaped from his clutch - and taken up a strong position on an upper shelf of the bookcase. - </p> - <p> - "Will you go out and get her some milk, Pugsy? She's probably starving. - Here's a quarter. Will you keep the change?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure thing," assented Master Maloney. - </p> - <p> - He strolled slowly out, while Betty, mounting a chair, proceeded to - chirrup and snap her fingers in the effort to establish the foundations of - an <i>entente cordiale</i> with the cat. - </p> - <p> - By the time Pugsy returned, carrying a five-cent bottle of milk, the - animal had vacated the shelf, and was sitting on the table, polishing her - face. The milk having been poured into the lid of a tobacco tin, in lieu - of a saucer, she suspended her operations and adjourned for refreshments, - Pugsy, having no immediate duties on hand, concentrated himself on the - cat. - </p> - <p> - "Say!" he said. - </p> - <p> - "Well?" - </p> - <p> - "Dat kitty. Pipe de leather collar she's wearin'." - </p> - <p> - Betty had noticed earlier in the proceedings that a narrow leather collar - encircled the animal's neck. - </p> - <p> - "Guess I know where dat kitty belongs. Dey all has dose collars. I guess - she's one of Bat Jarvis's kitties. He's got twenty-t'ree of dem, and dey - all has dose collars." - </p> - <p> - "Bat Jarvis?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure." - </p> - <p> - "Who is he?" - </p> - <p> - Pugsy looked at her incredulously. - </p> - <p> - "Say! Ain't youse never heard of Bat Jarvis? He's—he's Bat Jarvis." - </p> - <p> - "Do you know him?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure, I knows him." - </p> - <p> - "Does he live near here?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure, he lives near here." - </p> - <p> - "Then I think the best thing for you to do is to run round and tell him - that I am taking care of his cat, and that he had better come and fetch - it. I must be getting on with my work, or I shall never finish it." - </p> - <p> - She settled down to type the letters Smith had indicated. She attacked her - task cautiously. She was one of those typists who are at their best when - they do not have to hurry. - </p> - <p> - She was putting the finishing touches to the last of the batch, when there - was a shuffling of feet in the outer room, followed by a knock on the - door. The next moment there entered a short, burly young man, around whom - there hung, like an aroma, an indescribable air of toughness, partly due, - perhaps, to the fact that he wore his hair in a well-oiled fringe almost - down to his eyebrows, thus presenting the appearance of having no forehead - at all. His eyes were small and set close together. His mouth was wide, - his jaw prominent. Not, in short, the sort of man you would have picked - out on sight as a model citizen. He blinked furtively, as his eyes met - Betty's, and looked round the room. His face lighted up as he saw the cat. - </p> - <p> - "Say!" he said, stepping forward, and touching the cat's collar. "Ma'am, - mine!" - </p> - <p> - "Are you Mr. Jarvis?" asked Betty. - </p> - <p> - The visitor nodded, not without a touch of complacency, as of a monarch - abandoning his incognito. - </p> - <p> - For Mr. Jarvis was a celebrity. - </p> - <p> - By profession he was a dealer in animals, birds, and snakes. He had a - fancier's shop on Groome Street, in the heart of the Bowery. This was on - the ground floor. His living abode was in the upper story of that house, - and it was there that he kept the twenty-three cats whose necks were - adorned with leather collars. - </p> - <p> - But it was not the fact that he possessed twenty-three cats with leather - collars that had made Mr. Jarvis a celebrity. A man may win a local - reputation, if only for eccentricity, by such means. Mr. Jarvis' - reputation was far from being purely local. Broadway knew him, and the - Tenderloin. Tammany Hall knew him. Long Island City knew him. For Bat - Jarvis was the leader of the famous Groome Street Gang, the largest and - most influential of the four big gangs of the East Side. - </p> - <p> - To Betty, so little does the world often know of its greatest men, he was - merely a decidedly repellent-looking young man in unbecoming clothes. But - his evident affection for the cat gave her a feeling of fellowship toward - him. She beamed upon him, and Mr. Jarvis, who was wont to face the glare - of rivals without flinching, avoided her eye and shuffled with - embarrassment. - </p> - <p> - "I'm so glad she's safe!" said Betty. "There were two boys teasing her in - the street. I've been giving her some milk." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis nodded, with his eyes on the floor. - </p> - <p> - There was a pause. Then he looked up, and, fixing his gaze some three feet - above her head, spoke. - </p> - <p> - "Say!" he said, and paused again. Betty waited expectantly. - </p> - <p> - He relaxed into silence again, apparently thinking. - </p> - <p> - "Say!" he said. "Ma'am, obliged. Fond of de kit. I am." - </p> - <p> - "She's a dear," said Betty, tickling the cat under the ear. - </p> - <p> - "Ma'am," went on Mr. Jarvis, pursuing his theme, "obliged. Sha'n't fergit - it. Any time you're in bad, glad to be of service. Bat Jarvis. Groome - Street. Anybody'll show youse where I live." - </p> - <p> - He paused, and shuffled his feet; then, tucking the cat more firmly under - his arm, left the room. Betty heard him shuffling downstairs. - </p> - <p> - He had hardly gone, when the door opened again, and Smith came in. - </p> - <p> - "So you have had company while I was away?" he said. "Who was the grandee - with the cat? An old childhood's friend? Was he trying to sell the animal - to us?" - </p> - <p> - "That was Mr. Bat Jarvis," said Betty. - </p> - <p> - Smith looked interested. - </p> - <p> - "Bat! What was he doing here?" - </p> - <p> - Betty related the story of the cat. Smith nodded thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - "Well," he said, "I don't know that Comrade Jarvis is precisely the sort - of friend I would go out of my way to select. Still, you never know what - might happen. He might come in useful. And now, let us concentrate - ourselves tensely on this very entertaining little journal of ours, and - see if we cannot stagger humanity with it." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV — A CHANGE OF POLICY - </h2> - <p> - The feeling of tranquillity which had come to Betty on her first - acquaintance with <i>Peaceful Moments</i> seemed to deepen as the days - went by, and with each day she found the sharp pain at her heart less - vehement. It was still there, but it was dulled. The novelty of her life - and surroundings kept it in check. New York is an egotist. It will suffer - no divided attention. "Look at me!" says the voice of the city - imperiously, and its children obey. It snatches their thoughts from their - inner griefs, and concentrates them on the pageant that rolls unceasingly - from one end of the island to the other. One may despair in New York, but - it is difficult to brood on the past; for New York is the City of the - Present, the City of Things that are Going On. - </p> - <p> - To Betty everything was new and strange. Her previous acquaintance with - the metropolis had not been extensive. Mr. Scobell's home—or, - rather, the house which he owned in America—was on the outskirts of - Philadelphia, and it was there that she had lived when she was not paying - visits. Occasionally, during horse-show week, or at some other time of - festivity, she had spent a few days with friends who lived in Madison or - upper Fifth Avenue, but beyond that, New York was a closed book to her. - </p> - <p> - It would have been a miracle in the circumstances, if John and Mervo and - the whole of the events since the arrival of the great cable had not to - some extent become a little dream-like. When she was alone at night, and - had leisure to think, the dream became a reality once more; but in her - hours of work, or what passed for work in the office of <i>Peaceful - Moments</i>, and in the hours she spent walking about the streets and - observing the ways of this new world of hers, it faded. Everything was so - bright and busy! Every moment had its fresh interest. - </p> - <p> - And, above all, there was the sense of adventure. She was twenty-four; she - had health and an imagination; and almost unconsciously she was stimulated - by the thrill of being for the first time in her life genuinely at large. - The child's love of hiding dies hard in us. To Betty, to walk abroad in - New York in the midst of hurrying crowds, just Betty Brown—one of - four million and no longer the beautiful Miss Silver of the society - column, was to taste the romance of disguise, or invisibility. - </p> - <p> - During office hours she came near to complete contentment. To an expert - stenographer the amount of work to be done would have seemed ridiculously - small, but Betty, who liked plenty of time for a task, generally managed - to make it last comfortably through the day. - </p> - <p> - This was partly owing to the fact that her editor, when not actually at - work himself, was accustomed to engage her in conversation, and to keep - her so engaged until the entrance of Pugsy Maloney heralded the arrival of - some caller. - </p> - <p> - Betty liked Smith. His odd ways, his conversation, and his extreme - solicitude for his clothes amused her. She found his outlook on life - refreshing. Smith was an optimist. Whatever cataclysm might occur, he - never doubted for a moment that he would be comfortably on the summit of - the debris when all was over. He amazed Betty with his stories of his - reportorial adventures. He told them for the most part as humorous stories - at his own expense, but the fact remained that in a considerable - proportion of them he had only escaped a sudden and violent death by - adroitness or pure good luck. His conversation opened up a new world to - Betty. She began to see that in America, and especially in New York, - anything may happen to anybody. She looked on Smith with new eyes. - </p> - <p> - "But surely all this," she said one morning, after he had come to the end - of the story of a highly delicate piece of interviewing work in connection - with some Cumberland Mountains feudists, "surely all this—" She - looked round the room. - </p> - <p> - "Domesticity?" suggested Smith. - </p> - <p> - "Yes," said Betty. "Surely it all seems rather tame to you?" - </p> - <p> - Smith sighed. - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Brown," he said, "you have touched the spot with an unerring - finger." - </p> - <p> - Since Mr. Renshaw's departure, the flatness of life had come home to Smith - with renewed emphasis. Before, there had always been the quiet - entertainment of watching the editor at work, but now he was feeling - restless. Like John at Mervo, he was practically nothing but an ornament. - <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, like Mervo, had been set rolling and had - continued to roll on almost automatically. The staff of regular - contributors sent in their various pages. There was nothing for the man in - charge to do. Mr. Renshaw had been one of those men who have a genius for - being as busy over nothing as if it were some colossal work, but Smith had - not that gift. He liked something that he could grip and that gripped him. - He was becoming desperately bored. He felt like a marooned sailor on a - barren rock of domesticity. - </p> - <p> - A visitor who called at the office at this time did nothing to remove this - sensation of being outside everything that made life worth living. Betty, - returning to the office one afternoon, found Smith in the doorway, just - parting from a thickset young man. There was a rather gloomy expression on - the thickset young man's face. - </p> - <p> - Smith, too, she noted, when they were back in the inner office, seemed to - have something on his mind. He was strangely silent. - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Brown," he said at last, "I wish this little journal of ours had - a sporting page." - </p> - <p> - Betty laughed. - </p> - <p> - "Less ribaldry," protested Smith pained. "This is a sad affair. You saw - the man I was talking to? That was Kid Brady. I used to know him when I - was out West. He wants to fight anyone in the country at a hundred and - thirty-three pounds. We all have our hobbies. That is Comrade Brady's." - </p> - <p> - "Is he a boxer?" - </p> - <p> - "He would like to be. Out West, nobody could touch him. He's in the - championship class. But he has been pottering about New York for a month - without being able to get a fight. If we had a sporting page on <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> we could do him some good, but I don't see how we can write - him up," said Smith, picking up a copy of the paper, and regarding it - gloomily, "in 'Moments in the Nursery' or 'Moments with Budding - Girlhood.'" - </p> - <p> - He put up his eyeglass, and stared at the offending journal with the air - of a vegetarian who has found a caterpillar in his salad. Incredulity, - dismay, and disgust fought for precedence in his expression. - </p> - <p> - "B. Henderson Asher," he said severely, "ought to be in some sort of a - home. Cain killed Abel for telling him that story." - </p> - <p> - He turned to another page, and scrutinized it with deepening gloom. - </p> - <p> - "Is Luella Granville Waterman by any chance a friend of yours, Comrade - Brown? No? I am glad. For it seems to me that for sheer, concentrated - piffle, she is in a class by herself." - </p> - <p> - He read on for a few moments in silence, then looked up and fixed Betty - with his monocle. There was righteous wrath in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - "And people," he said, "are paying money for this! <i>Money!</i> Even now - they are sitting down and writing checks for a year's subscription. It - isn't right! It's a skin game. I am assisting in a carefully planned skin - game!" - </p> - <p> - "But perhaps they like it," suggested Betty. - </p> - <p> - Smith shook his head. - </p> - <p> - "It is kind of you to try and soothe my conscience, but it is useless. I - see my position too clearly. Think of it, Comrade Brown! Thousands of - poor, doddering, half-witted creatures in Brooklyn and Flatbush, who ought - not really to have control of their own money at all, are getting buncoed - out of whatever it is per annum in exchange for—how shall I put it - in a forcible yet refined and gentlemanly manner?—for cat's meat of - this description. Why, selling gold bricks is honest compared with it. And - I am temporarily responsible for the black business!" - </p> - <p> - He extended a lean hand with melodramatic suddenness toward Betty. The - unexpectedness of the movement caused her to start back in her chair with - a little exclamation of surprise. Smith nodded with a kind of mournful - satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - "Exactly!" he said. "As I expected! You shrink from me. You avoid my - polluted hand. How could it be otherwise? A conscientious green-goods man - would do the same." He rose from his seat. "Your attitude," he said, - "confirms me in a decision that has been in my mind for some days. I will - no longer calmly accept this terrible position. I will try to make amends. - While I am in charge, I will give our public something worth reading. All - these Watermans and Ashers and Parslows must go!" - </p> - <p> - "Go!" - </p> - <p> - "Go!" repeated Smith firmly. "I have been thinking it over for days. You - cannot look me in the face, Comrade Brown, and say that there is a single - feature which would not be better away. I mean in the paper, not in my - face. Every one of these punk pages must disappear. Letters must be - despatched at once, informing Julia Burdett Parslow and the others, and in - particular B. Henderson Asher, who, on brief acquaintance, strikes me as - an ideal candidate for a lethal chamber—that, unless they cease - their contributions instantly, we shall call up the police reserves. Then - we can begin to move." - </p> - <p> - Betty, like most of his acquaintances, seldom knew whether Smith was - talking seriously or not. She decided to assume, till he should dismiss - the idea, that he meant what he said. - </p> - <p> - "But you can't!" she exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - "With your kind cooperation, nothing easier. You supply the mechanical - work. I will compose the letters. First, B. Henderson Asher. 'Dear Sir'—" - </p> - <p> - "But—" she fell back on her original remark—"but you can't. - What will Mr. Renshaw say when he comes back?" - </p> - <p> - "Sufficient unto the day. I have a suspicion that he will be the first to - approve. His vacation will have made him see things differently—purified - him, as it were. His conscience will be alive once more." - </p> - <p> - "But—" - </p> - <p> - "Why should we worry ourselves because the end of this venture is wrapped - in obscurity? Why, Columbus didn't know where he was going to when he set - out. All he knew was some highly interesting fact about an egg. What that - was, I do not at the moment recall, but I understand it acted on Columbus - like a tonic. We are the Columbuses of the journalistic world. Full steam - ahead, and see what happens. If Comrade Renshaw is not pleased, why, I - shall have been a martyr to a good cause. It is a far, far better thing - that I do than I have ever done, so to speak. Why should I allow possible - inconvenience to myself to stand in the way of the happiness which we - propose to inject into those Brooklyn and Flatbush homes? Are you ready - then, once more? 'Dear Sir—'" - </p> - <p> - Betty gave in. - </p> - <p> - When the letters were finished, she made one more objection. - </p> - <p> - "They are certain to call here and make a fuss," she said, "Mr. Asher and - the rest." - </p> - <p> - "You think they will not bear the blow with manly fortitude?" - </p> - <p> - "I certainly do. And I think it's hard on them, too. Suppose they depend - for a living on what they make from <i>Peaceful Moments?</i>" - </p> - <p> - "They don't," said Smith reassuringly. "I've looked into that. Have no - pity for them. They are amateurs—degraded creatures of substance who - take the cocktails out of the mouths of deserving professionals. B. - Henderson Asher, for instance, is largely interested in gents' - haberdashery. And so with the others. We touch their pride, perhaps, but - not their purses." - </p> - <p> - Betty's soft heart was distinctly relieved by the information. - </p> - <p> - "I see," she said. "But suppose they do call, what will you do? It will be - very unpleasant." - </p> - <p> - Smith pondered. - </p> - <p> - "True," he said. "True. I think you are right there. My nervous system is - so delicately attuned that anything in the shape of a brawl would reduce - it to a frazzle. I think that, for this occasion only, we will promote - Comrade Maloney to the post of editor. He is a stern, hard, rugged man who - does not care how unpopular he is. Yes, I think that would be best." - </p> - <p> - He signed the letters with a firm hand, "per pro P. Maloney, editor." - </p> - <p> - Then he lit a cigarette, and leaned back in his chair. - </p> - <p> - "An excellent morning's work," he said. "Already I begin to feel the - dawnings of a new self-respect." - </p> - <p> - Betty, thinking the thing over, a little dazed by the rapidity of Smith's - method of action, had found a fresh flaw in the scheme. - </p> - <p> - "If you send Mr. Asher and the others away, how are you going to bring the - paper out at all? You can't write it all yourself." - </p> - <p> - Smith looked at her with benevolent admiration. - </p> - <p> - "She thinks of everything," he murmured. "That busy brain is never still. - No, Comrade Brown, I do not propose to write the whole paper myself. I do - not shirk work when it gets me in a corner and I can't side-step, but - there are limits. I propose to apply to a few of my late companions of - Park Row, bright boys who will be delighted to come across with red-hot - stuff for a moderate fee." - </p> - <p> - "And the proprietor of the paper? Won't he make any objection?" - </p> - <p> - Smith shook his head with a touch of reproof. - </p> - <p> - "You seem determined to try to look on the dark side. Do you insinuate - that we are not acting in the proprietor's best interests? When he gets - his check for the receipts, after I have handled the paper awhile, he will - go singing about the streets. His beaming smile will be a byword. Visitors - will be shown it as one of the sights. His only doubt will be whether to - send his money to the bank or keep it in tubs and roll in it. And anyway," - he added, "he's in Europe somewhere, and never sees the paper, sensible - man." - </p> - <p> - He scratched a speck of dust off his coat-sleeve with his finger nail. - </p> - <p> - "This is a big thing," he resumed. "Wait till you see the first number of - the new series. My idea is that <i>Peaceful Moments</i> shall become a - pretty warm proposition. Its tone shall be such that the public will - wonder why we do not print it on asbestos. We shall comment on all the - live events of the week—murders, Wall Street scandals, glove fights, - and the like, in a manner which will make our readers' spines thrill. - Above all, we shall be the guardians of the people's rights. We shall be a - spot light, showing up the dark places and bringing into prominence those - who would endeavor in any way to put the people in Dutch. We shall detect - the wrongdoer, and hand him such a series of resentful wallops that he - will abandon his little games and become a model citizen. In this way we - shall produce a bright, readable little sheet which will make our city sit - up and take notice. I think so. I think so. And now I must be hustling - about and seeing our new contributors. There is no time to waste." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV — THE HONEYED WORD - </h2> - <p> - The offices of Peaceful Moments were in a large building in a street off - Madison Avenue. They consisted of a sort of outer lair, where Pugsy - Maloney spent his time reading tales of life on the prairies and heading - off undesirable visitors; a small room, into which desirable but premature - visitors were loosed, to wait their turn for admission into the Presence; - and a larger room beyond, which was the editorial sanctum. - </p> - <p> - Smith, returning from luncheon on the day following his announcement of - the great change, found both Betty and Pugsy waiting in the outer lair, - evidently with news of import. - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Smith," began Betty. - </p> - <p> - "Dey're in dere," said Master Maloney with his customary terseness. - </p> - <p> - "Who, exactly?" asked Smith. - </p> - <p> - "De whole bunch of dem." - </p> - <p> - Smith inspected Pugsy through his eyeglass. "Can you give me any - particulars?" he asked patiently. "You are well-meaning, but vague, - Comrade Maloney. Who are in there?" - </p> - <p> - "About 'steen of dem!" said Pugsy. - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Asher," said Betty, "and Mr. Philpotts, and all the rest of them." - She struggled for a moment, but, unable to resist the temptation, added, - "I told you so." - </p> - <p> - A faint smile appeared upon Smith's face. - </p> - <p> - "Dey just butted in," said Master Maloney, resuming his narrative. "I was - sittin' here, readin' me book, when de foist of de guys blows in. 'Boy,' - says he, 'is de editor in?' 'Nope,' I says. 'I'll go in and wait,' says - he. 'Nuttin' doin',' says I. 'Nix on de goin'-in act.' I might as well - have saved me breat! In he butts. In about t'ree minutes along comes - another gazebo. 'Boy,' says he, 'is de editor in?' 'Nope,' I says. 'I'll - wait,' says he, lightin' out for de door, and in he butts. Wit' dat I sees - de proposition's too fierce for muh. I can't keep dese big husky guys out - if dey bucks center like dat. So when de rest of de bunch comes along, I - don't try to give dem de trun down. I says, 'Well, gent,' I says, 'it's up - to youse. De editor ain't in, but, if you feels lonesome, push t'roo. - Dere's plenty dere to keep youse company. I can't be boddered!'" - </p> - <p> - "And what more could you have said?" agreed Smith approvingly. "Tell me, - did these gentlemen appear to be gay and light-hearted, or did they seem - to be looking for someone with a hatchet?" - </p> - <p> - "Dey was hoppin' mad, de whole bunch of dem." - </p> - <p> - "Dreadfully," attested Betty. - </p> - <p> - "As I suspected," said Smith, "but we must not repine. These trifling - contretemps are the penalties we pay for our high journalistic aims. I - fancy that with the aid of the diplomatic smile and the honeyed word I may - manage to win out. Will you come and give me your moral support, Comrade - Brown?" - </p> - <p> - He opened the door of the inner room for Betty, and followed her in. - </p> - <p> - Master Maloney's statement that "about 'steen" visitors had arrived proved - to be a little exaggerated. There were five men in the room. - </p> - <p> - As Smith entered, every eye was turned upon him. To an outside spectator - he would have seemed rather like a very well-dressed Daniel introduced - into a den of singularly irritable lions. Five pairs of eyes were - smoldering with a long-nursed resentment. Five brows were corrugated with - wrathful lines. Such, however, was the simple majesty of Smith's demeanor - that for a moment there was dead silence. Not a word was spoken as he - paced, wrapped in thought, to the editorial chair. Stillness brooded over - the room as he carefully dusted that piece of furniture, and, having done - so to his satisfaction, hitched up the knees of his trousers and sank - gracefully into a sitting position. - </p> - <p> - This accomplished, he looked up and started. He gazed round the room. - </p> - <p> - "Ha! I am observed!" he murmured. - </p> - <p> - The words broke the spell. Instantly the five visitors burst - simultaneously into speech. - </p> - <p> - "Are you the acting editor of this paper?" - </p> - <p> - "I wish to have a word with you, sir." - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Maloney, I presume?" - </p> - <p> - "Pardon me!" - </p> - <p> - "I should like a few moments' conversation." - </p> - <p> - The start was good and even, but the gentleman who said "Pardon me!" - necessarily finished first, with the rest nowhere. - </p> - <p> - Smith turned to him, bowed, and fixed him with a benevolent gaze through - his eyeglass. - </p> - <p> - "Are you Mr. Maloney, may I ask?" enquired the favored one. - </p> - <p> - The others paused for the reply. Smith shook his head. "My name is Smith." - </p> - <p> - "Where is Mr. Maloney?" - </p> - <p> - Smith looked across at Betty, who had seated herself in her place by the - typewriter. - </p> - <p> - "Where did you tell me Mr. Maloney had gone to, Miss Brown? Ah, well, - never mind. Is there anything <i>I</i> can do for you, gentlemen? I am on - the editorial staff of this paper." - </p> - <p> - "Then, maybe," said a small, round gentleman who, so far, had done only - chorus work, "you can tell me what all this means? My name is Waterman, - sir. I am here on behalf of my wife, whose name you doubtless know." - </p> - <p> - "Correct me if I am wrong," said Smith, "but I should say it, also, was - Waterman." - </p> - <p> - "Luella Granville Waterman, sir!" said the little man proudly. "My wife," - he went on, "has received this extraordinary communication from a man - signing himself P. Maloney. We are both at a loss to make head or tail of - it." - </p> - <p> - "It seems reasonably clear to me," said Smith, reading the letter. - </p> - <p> - "It's an outrage. My wife has been a contributor to this journal since its - foundation. We are both intimate friends of Mr. Renshaw, to whom my wife's - work has always given complete satisfaction. And now, without the - slightest warning, comes this peremptory dismissal from P. Maloney. Who is - P. Maloney? Where is Mr. Renshaw?" - </p> - <p> - The chorus burst forth. It seemed that that was what they all wanted to - know. Who was P. Maloney? Where was Mr. Renshaw? - </p> - <p> - "I am the Reverend Edwin T. Philpott, sir," said a cadaverous-looking man - with light blue eyes and a melancholy face. "I have contributed 'Moments - of Meditation' to this journal for some considerable time." - </p> - <p> - Smith nodded. - </p> - <p> - "I know, yours has always seemed to me work which the world will not - willingly let die." - </p> - <p> - The Reverend Edwin's frosty face thawed into a bleak smile. - </p> - <p> - "And yet," continued Smith, "I gather that P. Maloney, on the other hand, - actually wishes to hurry on its decease. Strange!" - </p> - <p> - A man in a serge suit, who had been lurking behind Betty, bobbed into the - open. - </p> - <p> - "Where's this fellow Maloney? P. Maloney. That's the man we want to see. - I've been working for this paper without a break, except when I had the - grip, for four years, and now up comes this Maloney fellow, if you please, - and tells me in so many words that the paper's got no use for me." - </p> - <p> - "These are life's tragedies," sighed Smith. - </p> - <p> - "What does he mean by it? That's what I want to know. And that's what - these gentlemen want to know. See here—" - </p> - <p> - "I am addressing—" said Smith. - </p> - <p> - "Asher's my name. B. Henderson Asher. I write 'Moments of Mirth.'" - </p> - <p> - A look almost of excitement came into Smith's face, such a look as a - visitor to a foreign land might wear when confronted with some great - national monument. He stood up and shook Mr. Asher reverently by the hand. - </p> - <p> - "Gentlemen," he said, reseating himself, "this is a painful case. The - circumstances, as you will admit when you have heard all, are peculiar. - You have asked me where Mr. Renshaw is. I don't know." - </p> - <p> - "You don't know!" exclaimed Mr. Asher. - </p> - <p> - "Nobody knows. With luck you may find a black cat in a coal cellar on a - moonless night, but not Mr. Renshaw. Shortly after I joined this journal, - he started out on a vacation, by his doctor's orders, and left no address. - No letters were to be forwarded. He was to enjoy complete rest. Who can - say where he is now? Possibly racing down some rugged slope in the Rockies - with two grizzlies and a wildcat in earnest pursuit. Possibly in the midst - of Florida Everglades, making a noise like a piece of meat in order to - snare alligators. Who can tell?" - </p> - <p> - Silent consternation prevailed among his audience. - </p> - <p> - "Then, do you mean to say," demanded Mr. Asher, "that this fellow - Maloney's the boss here, and that what he says goes?" - </p> - <p> - Smith bowed. - </p> - <p> - "Exactly. A man of intensely masterful character, he will brook no - opposition. I am powerless to sway him. Suggestions from myself as to the - conduct of the paper would infuriate him. He believes that radical changes - are necessary in the policy of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, and he will carry - them through if it snows. Doubtless he would gladly consider your work if - it fitted in with his ideas. A rapid-fire impression of a glove fight, a - spine-shaking word picture of a railway smash, or something on those - lines, would be welcomed. But—" - </p> - <p> - "I have never heard of such a thing," said Mr. Waterman indignantly. - </p> - <p> - "In this life," said Smith, shaking his head, "we must be prepared for - every emergency. We must distinguish between the unusual and the - impossible. It is unusual for the acting editor of a weekly paper to - revolutionize its existing policy, and you have rashly ordered your life - on the assumption that it is impossible. You are unprepared. The thing - comes on you as a surprise. The cry goes round New York, 'Comrades Asher, - Waterman, Philpotts, and others have been taken unawares. They cannot cope - with the situation.'" - </p> - <p> - "But what is to be done?" cried Mr. Asher. - </p> - <p> - "Nothing, I fear, except to wait. It may be that when Mr. Renshaw, having - dodged the bears and eluded the wildcat, returns to his post, he will - decide not to continue the paper on the lines at present mapped out. He - should be back in about ten weeks." - </p> - <p> - "Ten weeks!" - </p> - <p> - "Till then, the only thing to do is to wait. You may rely on me to keep a - watchful eye on your interests. When your thoughts tend to take a gloomy - turn say to yourselves, 'All is well. Smith is keeping a watchful eye on - our interests.'" - </p> - <p> - "All the same, I should like to see this P. Maloney," said Mr. Asher. - </p> - <p> - "I shouldn't," said Smith. "I speak in your best interests. P. Maloney is - a man of the fiercest passions. He cannot brook interference. If you - should argue with him, there is no knowing what might not happen. He would - be the first to regret any violent action, when once he had cooled off, - but— Of course, if you wish it I could arrange a meeting. No? I - think you are wise. And now, gentlemen, as I have a good deal of work to - get through— - </p> - <p> - "All very disturbing to the man of culture and refinement," said Smith, as - the door closed behind the last of the malcontents. "But I think that we - may now consider the line clear. I see no further obstacle in our path. I - fear I have made Comrade Maloney perhaps a shade unpopular with our late - contributors, but these things must be. We must clench our teeth and face - them manfully. He suffers in an excellent cause." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI — TWO VISITORS TO THE OFFICE - </h2> - <p> - There was once an editor of a paper in the Far West who was sitting at his - desk, musing pleasantly on life, when a bullet crashed through the window - and imbedded itself in the wall at the back of his head. A happy smile - lighted up the editor's face. "Ah!" he said complacently, "I knew that - personal column of ours would make a hit!" - </p> - <p> - What the bullet was to the Far West editor, the visit of Mr. Martin Parker - to the offices of <i>Peaceful Moments</i> was to Smith. - </p> - <p> - It occurred shortly after the publication of the second number of the new - series, and was directly due to Betty's first and only suggestion for the - welfare of the paper. - </p> - <p> - If the first number of the series had not staggered humanity, it had at - least caused a certain amount of comment. The warm weather had begun, and - there was nothing much going on in New York. The papers were consequently - free to take notice of the change in the policy of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>. - Through the agency of Smith's newspaper friends, it received some very - satisfactory free advertisement, and the sudden increase in the sales - enabled Smith to bear up with fortitude against the numerous letters of - complaint from old subscribers who did not know what was good for them. - Visions of a large new public which should replace these Brooklyn and - Flatbush ingrates filled his mind. - </p> - <p> - The sporting section of the paper pleased him most. The personality of Kid - Brady bulked large in it. A photograph of the ambitious pugilist, looking - moody and important in an attitude of self-defense, filled half a page, - and under the photograph was the legend, "Jimmy Garvin must meet this - boy." Jimmy was the present holder of the light-weight title. He had won - it a year before, and since then had confined himself to smoking cigars as - long as walking sticks and appearing nightly in a vaudeville sketch - entitled, "A Fight for Honor." His reminiscences were being published in a - Sunday paper. It was this that gave Smith the idea of publishing Kid - Brady's autobiography in <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, an idea which won the - Kid's whole-hearted gratitude. Like most pugilists he had a passion for - bursting into print. Print is the fighter's accolade. It signifies that he - has arrived. He was grateful to Smith, too, for not editing his - contributions. Jimmy Garvin groaned under the supervision of a member of - the staff of his Sunday paper, who deleted his best passages and altered - the rest into Addisonian English. The readers of <i>Peaceful Moments</i> - got their Brady raw. - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Brady," said Smith meditatively to Betty one morning, "has a - singularly pure and pleasing style. It is bound to appeal powerfully to - the many-headed. Listen to this. Our hero is fighting one Benson in the - latter's home town, San Francisco, and the audience is rooting hard for - the native son. Here is Comrade Brady on the subject: 'I looked around - that house, and I seen I hadn't a friend in it. And then the gong goes, - and I says to myself how I has one friend, my old mother down in Illinois, - and I goes in and mixes it, and then I seen Benson losing his goat, so I - gives him a half-scissor hook, and in the next round I picks up a - sleep-producer from the floor and hands it to him, and he takes the - count.' That is what the public wants. Crisp, lucid, and to the point. If - that does not get him a fight with some eminent person, nothing will." - </p> - <p> - He leaned back in his chair. - </p> - <p> - "What we really need now," he said thoughtfully, "is a good, honest, - muck-raking series. That's the thing to put a paper on the map. The worst - of it is that everything seems to have been done. Have you by any chance a - second 'Frenzied Finance' at the back of your mind? Or proofs that nut - sundaes are composed principally of ptomaine and outlying portions of the - American workingman? It would be the making of us." - </p> - <p> - Now it happened that in the course of her rambles through the city Betty - had lost herself one morning in the slums. The experience had impressed - itself on her mind with an extraordinary vividness. Her lot had always - been cast in pleasant places, and she had never before been brought into - close touch with this side of life. The sight of actual raw misery had - come home to her with an added force from that circumstance. Wandering on, - she had reached a street which eclipsed in cheerlessness even its squalid - neighbors. All the smells and noises of the East Side seemed to be penned - up here in a sort of canyon. The masses of dirty clothes hanging from the - fire-escapes increased the atmosphere of depression. Groups of ragged - children covered the roadway. - </p> - <p> - It was these that had stamped the scene so indelibly on her memory. She - loved children, and these seemed so draggled and uncared-for. - </p> - <p> - Smith's words gave her an idea. - </p> - <p> - "Do you know Broster Street, Mr. Smith?" she asked. - </p> - <p> - "Down on the East Side? Yes, I went there once to get a story, one red-hot - night in August, when I was on the <i>News</i>. The Ice Company had been - putting up their prices, and trouble was expected down there. I was sent - to cover it." - </p> - <p> - He did not add that he had spent a week's salary that night, buying ice - and distributing it among the denizens of Broster Street. - </p> - <p> - "It's an awful place," said Betty, her eyes filling with tears. "Those - poor children!" - </p> - <p> - Smith nodded. - </p> - <p> - "Some of those tenement houses are fierce," he said thoughtfully. Like - Betty, he found himself with a singularly clear recollection of his one - visit to Broster Street. "But you can't do anything." - </p> - <p> - "Why not?" cried Betty. "Oh, why not? Surely you couldn't have a better - subject for your series? It's wicked. People only want to be told about - them to make them better. Why can't we draw attention to them?" - </p> - <p> - "It's been done already. Not about Broster Street, but about other - tenements. Tenements as a subject are played out. The public isn't - interested in them. Besides, it wouldn't be any use. You can't tree the - man who is really responsible, unless you can spend thousands scaring up - evidence. The land belongs in the first place to some corporation or - other. They lease it to a lessee. When there's a fuss, they say they - aren't responsible, it's up to the lessee. And he, bright boy, lies so low - you can't find out who it is." - </p> - <p> - "But we could try," urged Betty. - </p> - <p> - Smith looked at her curiously. The cause was plainly one that lay near to - her heart. Her face was flushed and eager. He wavered, and, having - wavered, he did what no practical man should do. He allowed sentiment to - interfere with business. He knew that a series of articles on Broster - Street would probably be so much dead weight on the paper, something to be - skipped by the average reader, but he put the thought aside. - </p> - <p> - "Very well," he said. "If you care to turn in a few crisp remarks on the - subject, I'll print them." - </p> - <p> - Betty's first instalment was ready on the following morning. It was a - curious composition. A critic might have classed it with Kid Brady's - reminiscences, for there was a complete absence of literary style. It was - just a wail of pity, and a cry of indignation, straight from the heart and - split up into paragraphs. - </p> - <p> - Smith read it with interest, and sent it off to the printer unaltered. - </p> - <p> - "Have another ready for next week, Comrade Brown," he said. "It's a long - shot, but this might turn out to be just what we need." - </p> - <p> - And when, two days after the publication of the number containing the - article, Mr. Martin Parker called at the office, he felt that the long - shot had won out. - </p> - <p> - He was holding forth on life in general to Betty shortly before the - luncheon hour when Pugsy Maloney entered bearing a card. - </p> - <p> - "Martin Parker?" said Smith, taking it. "I don't know him. We make new - friends daily." - </p> - <p> - "He's a guy wit' a tall-shaped hat," volunteered Master Maloney, "an' he's - wearing a dude suit an' shiny shoes." - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Parker," said Smith approvingly, "has evidently not been blind to - the importance of a visit to <i>Peaceful Moments</i>. He has dressed - himself in his best. He has felt, rightly, that this is no occasion for - the flannel suit and the old straw hat. I would not have it otherwise. It - is the right spirit. Show the guy in. We will give him audience." - </p> - <p> - Pugsy withdrew. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Martin Parker proved to be a man who might have been any age between - thirty-five and forty-five. He had a dark face and a black mustache. As - Pugsy had stated, in effect, he wore a morning coat, trousers with a - crease which brought a smile of kindly approval to Smith's face, and - patent-leather shoes of pronounced shininess. - </p> - <p> - "I want to see the editor," he said. - </p> - <p> - "Will you take a seat?" said Smith. - </p> - <p> - He pushed a chair toward the visitor, who seated himself with the care - inspired by a perfect trouser crease. There was a momentary silence while - he selected a spot on the table on which to place his hat. - </p> - <p> - "I have come about a private matter," he said, looking meaningly at Betty, - who got up and began to move toward the door. Smith nodded to her, and she - went out. - </p> - <p> - "Say," said Mr. Parker, "hasn't something happened to this paper these - last few weeks? It used not to take such an interest in things, used it?" - </p> - <p> - "You are very right," responded Smith. "Comrade Renshaw's methods were - good in their way. I have no quarrel with Comrade Renshaw. But he did not - lead public thought. He catered exclusively to children with water on the - brain and men and women with solid ivory skulls. I feel that there are - other and larger publics. I cannot content myself with ladling out a - weekly dole of predigested mental breakfast food. I—" - </p> - <p> - "Then you, I guess," said Mr. Parker, "are responsible for this Broster - Street thing?" - </p> - <p> - "At any rate, I approve of it and put it in the paper. If any husky guy, - as Comrade Maloney would put it, is anxious to aim a swift kick at the - author of that article, he can aim it at me." - </p> - <p> - "I see," said Mr. Parker. He paused. "It said 'Number one' in the paper. - Does that mean there are going to be more of them?" - </p> - <p> - "There is no flaw in your reasoning. There are to be several more." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker looked at the door. It was closed. He bent forward. - </p> - <p> - "See here," he said, "I'm going to talk straight, if you'll let me." - </p> - <p> - "Assuredly, Comrade Parker. There must be no secrets, no restraint between - us. I would not have you go away and say to yourself, 'Did I make my - meaning clear? Was I too elusive?'" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker scratched the floor with the point of a gleaming shoe. He - seemed to be searching for words. - </p> - <p> - "Say on," urged Smith. "Have you come to point out some flaw in that - article? Does it fall short in any way of your standard for such work?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker came to the point. - </p> - <p> - "If I were you," he said, "I should quit it. I shouldn't go on with those - articles." - </p> - <p> - "Why?" enquired Smith. - </p> - <p> - "Because," said Mr. Parker. - </p> - <p> - He looked at Smith, and smiled slowly, an ingratiating smile. Smith did - not respond. - </p> - <p> - "I do not completely gather your meaning," he said. "I fear I must ask you - to hand it to me with still more breezy frankness. Do you speak from - purely friendly motives? Are you advising me to discontinue the series - because you fear that it will damage the literary reputation of the paper? - Do you speak solely as a literary connoisseur? Or are there other - reasons?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker leaned forward. - </p> - <p> - "The gentleman whom I represent—" - </p> - <p> - "Then this is no matter of your own personal taste? There is another?" - </p> - <p> - "See here, I'm representing a gentleman who shall be nameless, and I've - come on his behalf to tip you off to quit this game. These articles of - yours are liable to cause him inconvenience." - </p> - <p> - "Financial? Do you mean that he may possibly have to spend some of his - spare doubloons in making Broster Street fit to live in?" - </p> - <p> - "It's not so much the money. It's the publicity. There are reasons why he - would prefer not to have it made too public that he's the owner of the - tenements down there." - </p> - <p> - "Well, he knows what to do. If he makes Broster Street fit for a - not-too-fastidious pig to live in—" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker coughed. A tentative cough, suggesting that the situation was - now about to enter upon a more delicate phase. - </p> - <p> - "Now, see here, sir," he said, "I'm going to be frank. I'm going to put my - cards on the table, and see if we can't fix something up. Now, see here. - We don't want any unpleasantness. You aren't in this business for your - health, eh? You've got your living to make, same as everybody else, I - guess. Well, this is how it stands. To a certain extent, I don't mind - owning, since we're being frank with one another, you've got us—that's - to say, this gentleman I'm speaking of—in a cleft stick. Frankly, - that Broster Street story of yours has attracted attention—I saw it - myself in two Sunday papers—and if there's going to be any more of - them—Well, now, here's a square proposition. How much do you want to - stop those articles? That's straight. I've been frank with you, and I want - you to be frank with me. What's your figure? Name it, and if you don't - want the earth I guess we needn't quarrel." - </p> - <p> - He looked expectantly at Smith. Smith, gazing sadly at him through his - monocle, spoke quietly, with the restrained dignity of some old Roman - senator dealing with the enemies of the Republic. - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Parker," he said, "I fear that you have allowed your intercourse - with this worldly city to undermine your moral sense. It is useless to - dangle rich bribes before the editorial eyes. <i>Peaceful Moments</i> - cannot be muzzled. You doubtless mean well, according to your somewhat - murky lights, but we are not for sale, except at fifteen cents weekly. - From the hills of Maine to the Everglades of Florida, from Portland, - Oregon, to Melonsquashville, Tennessee, one sentence is in every man's - mouth. And what is that sentence? I give you three guesses. You give it - up? It is this: '<i>Peaceful Moments</i> cannot be muzzled!'" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker rose. - </p> - <p> - "Nothing doing, then?" he said. - </p> - <p> - "Nothing." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker picked up his hat. - </p> - <p> - "See here," he said, a grating note in his voice, hitherto smooth and - conciliatory, "I've no time to fool away talking to you. I've given you - your chance. Those stories are going to be stopped. And if you've any - sense in you at all, you'll stop them yourself before you get hurt. That's - all I've got to say, and that goes." - </p> - <p> - He went out, closing the door behind him with a bang that added emphasis - to his words. - </p> - <p> - "All very painful and disturbing," murmured Smith. "Comrade Brown!" he - called. - </p> - <p> - Betty came in. - </p> - <p> - "Did our late visitor bite a piece out of you on his way out? He was in - the mood to do something of the sort." - </p> - <p> - "He seemed angry," said Betty. - </p> - <p> - "He <i>was</i> angry," said Smith. "Do you know what has happened, Comrade - Brown? With your very first contribution to the paper you have hit the - bull's-eye. You have done the state some service. Friend Parker came as - the representative of the owner of those Broster Street houses. He wanted - to buy us off. We've got them scared, or he wouldn't have shown his hand - with such refreshing candor. Have you any engagements at present?" - </p> - <p> - "I was just going out to lunch, if you could spare me." - </p> - <p> - "Not alone. This lunch is on the office. As editor of this journal I will - entertain you, if you will allow me, to a magnificent banquet. <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> is grateful to you. <i>Peaceful Moments,"</i> he added, with - the contented look the Far West editor must have worn as the bullet came - through the window, "is, owing to you, going some now." - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - When they returned from lunch, and reentered the outer office, Pugsy - Maloney, raising his eyes for a moment from his book, met them with the - information that another caller had arrived and was waiting in the inner - room. - </p> - <p> - "Dere's a guy in dere waitin' to see youse," he said, jerking his head - towards the door. - </p> - <p> - "Yet another guy? This is our busy day. Did he give a name?" - </p> - <p> - "Says his name's Maude," said Master Maloney, turning a page. - </p> - <p> - "Maude!" cried Betty, falling back. - </p> - <p> - Smith beamed. - </p> - <p> - "Old John Maude!" he said. "Great! I've been wondering what on earth he's - been doing with himself all this time. Good-old John! You'll like him," he - said, turning, and stopped abruptly, for he was speaking to the empty air. - Betty had disappeared. - </p> - <p> - "Where's Miss Brown, Pugsy?" he said. "Where did she go?" - </p> - <p> - Pugsy vouchsafed another jerk of the head, in the direction of the outer - door. - </p> - <p> - "She's beaten it," he said. "I seen her make a break for de stairs. Guess - she's forgotten to remember somet'ing," he added indifferently, turning - once more to his romance of prairie life. "Goils is bone-heads." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII — THE MAN AT THE ASTOR - </h2> - <p> - Refraining from discussing with Master Maloney the alleged bone-headedness - of girls, Smith went through into the inner room, and found John sitting - in the editorial chair, glancing through the latest number of <i>Peaceful - Moments</i>. - </p> - <p> - "Why, John, friend of my youth," he said, "where have you been hiding all - this time? I called you up at your office weeks ago, and an acid voice - informed me that you were no longer there. Have you been fired?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes," said John. "Why aren't you on the <i>News</i> any more? Nobody - seemed to know where you were, till I met Faraday this morning, who told - me you were here." - </p> - <p> - Smith was conscious of an impression that in some subtle way John had - changed since their last meeting. For a moment he could not have said what - had given him this impression. Then it flashed upon him. Before, John had - always been, like Mrs. Fezziwig in "The Christmas Carol," one vast - substantial smile. He had beamed cheerfully on what to him was evidently - the best of all possible worlds. Now, however, it would seem that doubts - had occurred to him as to the universal perfection of things. His face was - graver. His eyes and his mouth alike gave evidence of disturbing - happenings. - </p> - <p> - In the matter of confidences, Smith was not a believer in spade-work. If - they were offered to him, he was invariably sympathetic, but he never dug - for them. That John had something on his mind was obvious, but he intended - to allow him, if he wished to reveal it, to select his own time for the - revelation. - </p> - <p> - John, for his part, had no intention of sharing this particular trouble - even with Smith. It was too new and intimate for discussion. - </p> - <p> - It was only since his return to New York that the futility of his quest - had really come home to him. In the belief of having at last escaped from - Mervo he had been inclined to overlook obstacles. It had seemed to him, - while he waited for his late subjects to dismiss him, that, once he could - move, all would be simple. New York had dispelled that idea. Logically, he - saw with perfect clearness, there was no reason why he and Betty should - ever meet again. - </p> - <p> - To retain a spark of hope beneath this knowledge was not easy and John, - having been in New York now for nearly three weeks without any - encouragement from the fates, was near the breaking point. A gray apathy - had succeeded the frenzied restlessness of the first few days. The - necessity for some kind of work that would to some extent occupy his mind - was borne in upon him, and the thought of Smith had followed naturally. If - anybody could supply distraction, it would be Smith. Faraday, another of - the temporary exiles from the <i>News</i>, whom he had met by chance in - Washington Square, had informed him of Smith's new position and of the - renaissance of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, and he had hurried to the office - to present himself as an unskilled but willing volunteer to the cause. - Inspection of the current number of the paper had convinced him that the - <i>Peaceful Moments</i> atmosphere, if it could not cure, would at least - relieve. - </p> - <p> - "Faraday told me all about what you had done to this paper," he said. "I - came to see if you would let me in on it. I want work." - </p> - <p> - "Excellent!" said Smith. "Consider yourself one of us." - </p> - <p> - "I've never done any newspaper work, of course, but—" - </p> - <p> - "Never!" cried Smith. "Is it so long since the dear old college days that - you forget the <i>Gridiron?"</i> - </p> - <p> - In their last year at Harvard, Smith and John, assisted by others of a - congenial spirit, had published a small but lively magazine devoted to - college topics, with such success—from one point of view—that - on the appearance of the third number it was suppressed by the - authorities. - </p> - <p> - "You were the life and soul of the <i>Gridiron,"</i> went on Smith. "You - shall be the life and soul of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>. You have special - qualifications for the post. A young man once called at the office of a - certain newspaper, and asked for a job. 'Have you any specialty?' enquired - the editor. 'Yes,' replied the bright boy, 'I am rather good at - invective.' 'Any particular kind of invective?' queried the man up top. - 'No,' replied our hero, 'just general invective.' Such is your case, my - son. You have a genius for general invective. You are the man <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> has been waiting for." - </p> - <p> - "If you think so—" - </p> - <p> - "I do think so. Let us consider it settled. And now, tell me, what do you - think of our little journal?" - </p> - <p> - "Well—aren't you asking for trouble? Isn't the proprietor—?" - </p> - <p> - Smith waved his hand airily. - </p> - <p> - "Dismiss him from your mind," he said. "He is a gentleman of the name of - Benjamin Scobell, who—" - </p> - <p> - "Benjamin Scobell!" - </p> - <p> - "Who lives in Europe and never sees the paper. I happen to know that he is - anxious to get rid of it. His solicitors have instructions to accept any - reasonable offer. If only I could close in on a small roll, I would buy it - myself, for by the time we have finished our improvements, it will be a - sound investment for the young speculator. Have you read the Broster - Street story? It has hit somebody already. Already some unknown individual - is grasping the lemon in his unwilling fingers. And—to remove any - diffidence you may still have about lending your sympathetic aid—that - was written by no hardened professional, but by our stenographer. She'll - be in soon, and I'll introduce you. You'll like her. I do not despair, - later on, of securing an epoch-making contribution from Comrade Maloney." - </p> - <p> - As he spoke, that bulwark of the paper entered in person, bearing an - envelope. - </p> - <p> - "Ah, Comrade Maloney," said Smith. "Is that your contribution? What is the - subject? 'Mustangs I have Met?'" - </p> - <p> - "A kid brought dis," said Pugsy. "Dere ain't no answer." - </p> - <p> - Smith read the letter with raised eyebrows. - </p> - <p> - "We shall have to get another stenographer," he said. "The gifted author - of our Broster Street series has quit." - </p> - <p> - "Oh!" said John, not interested. - </p> - <p> - "Quit at a moment's notice and without explanation. I can't understand - it." - </p> - <p> - "I guess she had some reason," said John, absently. He was inclined to be - absent during these days. His mind was always stealing away to occupy - itself with the problem of the discovery of Betty. The motives that might - have led a stenographer to resign her position had no interest for him. - </p> - <p> - Smith shrugged his shoulders. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, Woman, Woman!" he said resignedly. - </p> - <p> - "She says she will send in some more Broster Street stuff, though, which - is a comfort. But I'm sorry she's quit. You would have liked her." - </p> - <p> - "Yes?" said John. - </p> - <p> - At this moment there came from the outer office a piercing squeal. It - penetrated into the editorial sanctum, losing only a small part of its - strength on the way. Smith looked up with patient sadness. - </p> - <p> - "If Comrade Maloney," he said, "is going to take to singing during - business hours, I fear this journal must put up its shutters. Concentrated - thought will be out of the question." - </p> - <p> - He moved to the door and flung it open as a second squeal rent the air, - and found Master Maloney writhing in the grip of a tough-looking person in - patched trousers and a stained sweater. His left ear was firmly grasped - between the stranger's finger and thumb. - </p> - <p> - The tough person released Pugsy, and, having eyed Smith keenly for a - moment, made a dash for the stairs, leaving the guardian of the gate - rubbing his ear resentfully. - </p> - <p> - "He blows in," said Master Maloney, aggrieved, "an' asks is de editor in. - I tells him no, an' he nips me by the ear when I tries to stop him buttin' - t'roo." - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Maloney," said Smith, "you are a martyr. What would Horatius have - done if somebody had nipped him by the ear when he was holding the bridge? - It might have made all the difference. Did the gentleman state his - business?" - </p> - <p> - "Nope. Just tried to butt t'roo." - </p> - <p> - "One of these strong, silent men. The world is full of us. These are the - perils of the journalistic life. You will be safer and happier when you - are a cowboy, Comrade Maloney." - </p> - <p> - Smith was thoughtful as he returned to the inner room. - </p> - <p> - "Things are warming up, John," he said. "The sport who has just left - evidently came just to get a sight of me. Otherwise, why should he tear - himself away without stopping for a chat. I suppose he was sent to mark me - down for whichever gang Comrade Parker is employing." - </p> - <p> - "What do you mean?" said John. "All this gets past me. Who is Parker?" - </p> - <p> - Smith related the events leading up to Mr. Parker's visit, and described - what had happened on that occasion. - </p> - <p> - "So, before you throw in your lot with this journal," he concluded, "it - would be well to think the matter over. You must weigh the pros and cons. - Is your passion for literature such that you do not mind being put out of - business with a black-jack for the cause? Will the knowledge that a - low-browed gentleman is waiting round the corner for you stimulate or - hinder you in your work? There's no doubt now that we are up against a - tough crowd." - </p> - <p> - "By Jove!" said John. "I hadn't a notion it was like that." - </p> - <p> - "You feel, then, that on the whole—" - </p> - <p> - "I feel that on the whole this is just the business I've been hunting for. - You couldn't keep me out of it now with an ax." - </p> - <p> - Smith looked at him curiously, but refrained from enquiries. That there - must be something at the back of this craving for adventure and - excitement, he knew. The easy-going John he had known of old would - certainly not have deserted the danger zone, but he would not have - welcomed entry to it so keenly. It was plain that he was hungry for work - that would keep him from thought. Smith was eminently a patient young man, - and though the problem of what upheaval had happened to change John to - such an extent interested him greatly, he was prepared to wait for - explanations. - </p> - <p> - Of the imminence of the danger he was perfectly aware. He had known from - the first that Mr. Parker's concluding words were not an empty threat. His - experience as a reporter had given him the knowledge that is only given in - its entirety to police and newspaper men: that there are two New Yorks—one, - a modern, well-policed city, through which one may walk from end to end - without encountering adventure; the other, a city as full of sinister - intrigue, of whisperings and conspiracies, of battle, murder, and sudden - death in dark byways, as any town of mediaeval Italy. Given certain - conditions, anything may happen in New York. And Smith realized that these - conditions now prevailed in his own case. He had come into conflict with - New York's underworld. Circumstances had placed him below the surface, - where only his wits could help him. - </p> - <p> - He would have been prepared to see the thing through by himself, but there - was no doubt that John as an ally would be a distinct comfort. - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless, he felt compelled to give his friend a last chance of - withdrawing. - </p> - <p> - "You know," he said, "there is really no reason why you should—" - </p> - <p> - "But I'm going to," interrupted John. "That's all there is to it. What's - going to happen, anyway? I don't know anything about these gangs. I - thought they spent all their time shooting each other up." - </p> - <p> - "Not all, unfortunately, Comrade John. They are always charmed to take on - a small job like this on the side." - </p> - <p> - "And what does it come to? Do we have an entire gang camping on our trail - in a solid mass, or only one or two toughs?" - </p> - <p> - "Merely a section, I should imagine. Comrade Parker would go to the main - boss of the gang—Bat Jarvis, if it was the Groome Street gang, or - Spider Reilly and Dude Dawson if he wanted the Three Points or the Table - Hill lot. The boss would chat over the matter with his own special - partners, and they would fix it up among themselves. The rest of the gang - would probably know nothing about it. The fewer in the game, you see, the - fewer to divide the Parker dollars. So what we have to do is to keep a - lookout for a dozen or so aristocrats of that dignified deportment which - comes from constant association with the main boss, and, if we can elude - these, all will be well." - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - It was by Smith's suggestion that the editorial staff of <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> dined that night at the Astor roof-garden. - </p> - <p> - "The tired brain," he said, "needs to recuperate. To feed on such a night - as this in some low-down hostelry on the level of the street, with German - waiters breathing heavily down the back of one's neck and two fiddles and - a piano hitting up ragtime about three feet from one's tympanum, would be - false economy. Here, fanned by cool breezes and surrounded by passably - fair women and brave men, one may do a certain amount of tissue-restoring. - Moreover, there is little danger up here of being slugged by our - moth-eaten acquaintance of this afternoon. We shall probably find him - waiting for us at the main entrance with a black-jack, but till then—" - </p> - <p> - He turned with gentle grace to his soup. It was a warm night, and the - roof-garden was full. From where they sat they could see the million - twinkling lights of the city. John, watching them, as he smoked a - cigarette at the conclusion of the meal, had fallen into a dream. He came - to himself with a start, to find Smith in conversation with a waiter. - </p> - <p> - "Yes, my name is Smith," he was saying. - </p> - <p> - The waiter retired to one of the tables and spoke to a young man sitting - there. John, recollected having seen this solitary diner looking in their - direction once or twice during dinner, but the fact had not impressed him. - </p> - <p> - "What's the matter?" he asked. - </p> - <p> - "The man at that table sent over to ask if my name was Smith. It was. He - is now coming along to chat in person. I wonder why. I don't know him from - Adam." - </p> - <p> - The stranger was threading his way between the tables. - </p> - <p> - "Can I have a word with you, Mr. Smith?" he said. The waiter brought a - chair and he seated himself. - </p> - <p> - "By the way," said Smith, "my friend, Mr. Maude. Your own name will - doubtless come up in the course of general chitchat over the coffee-cups." - </p> - <p> - "Not on your tintype it won't," said the stranger decidedly. "It won't be - needed. Is Mr. Maude on your paper? That's all right, then. I can go - ahead." - </p> - <p> - He turned to Smith. - </p> - <p> - "It's about that Broster Street thing." - </p> - <p> - "More fame!" murmured Smith. "We certainly are making a hit with the great - public over Broster Street." - </p> - <p> - "Well, you understand certain parties have got it in against you?" - </p> - <p> - "A charming conversationalist, one Comrade Parker, hinted at something of - the sort in a recent conversation. We shall endeavor, however, to look - after ourselves." - </p> - <p> - "You'll need to. The man behind is a big bug." - </p> - <p> - "Who is he?" - </p> - <p> - The stranger shrugged his shoulders. - </p> - <p> - "Search me. You wouldn't expect him to give that away." - </p> - <p> - "Then on what system have you estimated the size of the gentleman's - bug-hood? What makes you think that he's a big bug?" - </p> - <p> - "By the number of dollars he was ready to put up to have you put through." - </p> - <p> - Smith's eyes gleamed for an instant, but he spoke as coolly as ever. - </p> - <p> - "Oh!" he said. "And which gang has he hired?" - </p> - <p> - "I couldn't say. He—his agent, that is—came to Bat Jarvis. Bat - for some reason turned the job down." - </p> - <p> - "He did? Why?" - </p> - <p> - "Search me. Nobody knows. But just as soon as he heard who it was he was - being asked to lay for, he turned it down cold. Said none of his fellows - was going to put a finger on anyone who had anything to do with your - paper. I don't know what you've been doing to Bat, but he sure is the - long-lost brother to you." - </p> - <p> - "A powerful argument in favor of kindness to animals!" said Smith. "One of - his celebrated stud of cats came into the possession of our stenographer. - What did she do? Instead of having the animal made into a nourishing soup, - she restored it to its bereaved owner. Observe the sequel. We are very - much obliged to Comrade Jarvis." - </p> - <p> - "He sent me along," went on the stranger, "to tell you to watch out, - because one of the other gangs was dead sure to take on the job. And he - said you were to know that he wasn't mixed up in it. Well, that's all. - I'll be pushing along. I've a date. Glad to have met you, Mr. Maude. - Good-night." - </p> - <p> - For a few moments after he had gone, Smith and John sat smoking in - silence. - </p> - <p> - "What's the time?" asked Smith suddenly. "If it's not too late—Hello, - here comes our friend once more." - </p> - <p> - The stranger came up to the table, a light overcoat over his dress - clothes. From the pocket of this he produced a watch. - </p> - <p> - "Force of habit," he said apologetically, handing it to John. "You'll - pardon me. Good-night again." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII — THE HIGHFIELD - </h2> - <p> - John looked after him, open-mouthed. The events of the evening had been a - revelation to him. He had not realized the ramifications of New York's - underworld. That members of the gangs should appear in gorgeous raiment in - the Astor roof-garden was a surprise. "And now," said Smith, "that our - friend has so sportingly returned your watch, take a look at it and see - the time. Nine? Excellent. We shall do it comfortably." - </p> - <p> - "What's that?" asked John. - </p> - <p> - "Our visit to the Highfield. A young friend of mine who is fighting there - to-night sent me tickets a few days ago. In your perusal of <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> you may have chanced to see mention of one Kid Brady. He is - the man. I was intending to go in any case, but an idea has just struck me - that we might combine pleasure with business. Has it occurred to you that - these black-jack specialists may drop in on us at the office? And, if so, - that Comrade Maloney's statement that we are not in may be insufficient to - keep them out? Comrade Brady would be an invaluable assistant. And as we - are his pugilistic sponsors, without whom he would not have got this fight - at all, I think we may say that he will do any little thing we may ask of - him." - </p> - <p> - It was certainly true that, from the moment the paper had taken up his - cause, Kid Brady's star had been in the ascendant. The sporting pages of - the big dailies had begun to notice him, until finally the management of - the Highfield Club had signed him on for a ten-round bout with a certain - Cyclone Dick Fisher. - </p> - <p> - "He should," continued Smith, "if equipped in any degree with the finer - feelings, be bubbling over with gratitude toward us. At any rate, it is - worth investigating." - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - Far away from the comfortable glare of Broadway, in a place of disheveled - houses and insufficient street-lamps, there stands the old warehouse which - modern enterprise has converted into the Highfield Athletic and Gymnastic - Club. The imagination, stimulated by the title, conjures up - picture-covered walls, padded chairs, and seas of white shirt front. The - Highfield differs in some respects from this fancy picture. Indeed, it - would be hard to find a respect in which it does not differ. But these - names are so misleading! The title under which the Highfield used to be - known till a few years back was "Swifty Bob's." It was a good, honest - title. You knew what to export, and if you attended seances at Swifty - Bob's you left your gold watch and your little savings at home. But a wave - of anti-pugilistic feeling swept over the New York authorities. Promoters - of boxing contests found themselves, to their acute disgust, raided by the - police. The industry began to languish. Persons avoided places where at - any moment the festivities might be marred by an inrush of large men in - blue uniforms, armed with locust sticks. - </p> - <p> - And then some big-brained person suggested the club idea, which stands - alone as an example of American dry humor. At once there were no boxing - contests in New York; Swifty Bob and his fellows would have been shocked - at the idea of such a thing. All that happened now was exhibition sparring - bouts between members of the club. It is true that next day the papers - very tactlessly reported the friendly exhibition spar as if it had been - quite a serious affair, but that was not the fault of Swifty Bob. - </p> - <p> - Kid Brady, the chosen of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, was billed for a - "ten-round exhibition contest," to be the main event of the evening's - entertainment. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - A long journey on the subway took them to the neighborhood, and after - considerable wandering they arrived at their destination. - </p> - <p> - Smith's tickets were for a ring-side box, a species of sheep pen of - unpolished wood, with four hard chairs in it. The interior of the - Highfield Athletic and Gymnastic Club was severely free from anything in - the shape of luxury and ornament. Along the four walls were raised benches - in tiers. On these were seated as tough-looking a collection of citizens - as one might wish to see. On chairs at the ringside were the reporters - with tickers at their sides. In the center of the room, brilliantly - lighted by half-a-dozen electric chandeliers, was the ring. - </p> - <p> - There were preliminary bouts before the main event. A burly gentleman in - shirt-sleeves entered the ring, followed by two slim youths in fighting - costume and a massive person in a red jersey, blue serge trousers, and - yellow braces, who chewed gum with an abstracted air throughout the - proceedings. - </p> - <p> - The burly gentleman gave tongue in a voice that cleft the air like a - cannon ball. - </p> - <p> - "Ex-hibit-i-on four-round bout between Patsy Milligan and Tommy Goodley, - members of this club. Patsy on my right, Tommy on my left. Gentlemen will - kindly stop smokin'." - </p> - <p> - The audience did nothing of the sort. Possibly they did not apply the - description to themselves. Possibly they considered the appeal a mere - formula. Somewhere in the background a gong sounded, and Patsy, from the - right, stepped briskly forward to meet Tommy, approaching from the left. - </p> - <p> - The contest was short but energetic. At intervals the combatants would - cling affectionately to one another, and on these occasions the - red-jerseyed man, still chewing gum and still wearing the same air of - being lost in abstract thought, would split up the mass by the simple - method of ploughing his way between the pair. Toward the end of the first - round Thomas, eluding a left swing, put Patrick neatly to the floor, where - the latter remained for the necessary ten seconds. - </p> - <p> - The remaining preliminaries proved disappointing. So much so that in the - last of the series a soured sportsman on one of the benches near the roof - began in satirical mood to whistle the "Merry Widow Waltz." It was here - that the red-jerseyed thinker for the first and last time came out of his - meditative trance. He leaned over the ropes, and spoke, without heat, but - firmly: - </p> - <p> - "If that guy whistling back up yonder thinks he can do better than these - boys, he can come right down into the ring." - </p> - <p> - The whistling ceased. - </p> - <p> - There was a distinct air of relief when the last preliminary was finished - and preparations for the main bout began. It did not commence at once. - There were formalities to be gone through, introductions and the like. The - burly gentleman reappeared from nowhere, ushering into the ring a - sheepishly grinning youth in a flannel suit. - </p> - <p> - "In-ter-<i>doo</i>-cin' Young Leary," he bellowed impressively, "a noo - member of this club, who will box some good boy here in September." - </p> - <p> - He walked to the other side of the ring and repeated the remark. A raucous - welcome was accorded to the new member. - </p> - <p> - Two other notable performers were introduced in a similar manner, and then - the building became suddenly full of noise, for a tall youth in a bath - robe, attended by a little army of assistants, had entered the ring. One - of the army carried a bright green bucket, on which were painted in white - letters the words "Cyclone Dick Fisher." A moment later there was another, - though a far less, uproar, as Kid Brady, his pleasant face wearing a - self-conscious smirk, ducked under the ropes and sat down in the opposite - corner. - </p> - <p> - "Ex-hib-it-i-on ten-round bout," thundered the burly gentleman, "between - Cyclone Dick Fisher—" - </p> - <p> - Loud applause. Mr. Fisher was one of the famous, a fighter with a - reputation from New York to San Francisco. He was generally considered the - most likely man to give the hitherto invincible Jimmy Garvin a hard battle - for the light-weight championship. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, you Dick!" roared the crowd. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Fisher bowed benevolently. - </p> - <p> - "—and Kid Brady, member of this—" - </p> - <p> - There was noticeably less applause for the Kid. He was an unknown. A few - of those present had heard of his victories in the West, but these were - but a small section of the crowd. When the faint applause had ceased, - Smith rose to his feet. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, you Kid!" he observed encouragingly. "I should not like Comrade - Brady," he said, reseating himself, "to think that he has no friend but - his poor old mother, as occurred on a previous occasion." - </p> - <p> - The burly gentleman, followed by the two armies of assistants, dropped - down from the ring, and the gong sounded. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Fisher sprang from his corner as if somebody had touched a spring. He - seemed to be of the opinion that if you are a cyclone, it is never too - soon to begin behaving like one. He danced round the Kid with an - india-rubber agility. The <i>Peaceful Moments</i> representative exhibited - more stolidity. Except for the fact that he was in fighting attitude, with - one gloved hand moving slowly in the neighborhood of his stocky chest, and - the other pawing the air on a line with his square jaw, one would have - said that he did not realize the position of affairs. He wore the friendly - smile of the good-natured guest who is led forward by his hostess to join - in some game to amuse the children. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly his opponent's long left shot out. The Kid, who had been - strolling forward, received it under the chin, and continued to stroll - forward as if nothing of note had happened. He gave the impression of - being aware that Mr. Fisher had committed a breach of good taste and of - being resolved to pass it off with ready tact. - </p> - <p> - The Cyclone, having executed a backward leap, a forward leap, and a feint, - landed heavily with both hands. The Kid's genial smile did not even - quiver, but he continued to move forward. His opponent's left flashed out - again, but this time, instead of ignoring the matter, the Kid replied with - a heavy right swing, and Mr. Fisher leaping back, found himself against - the ropes. By the time he had got out of that uncongenial position, two - more of the Kid's swings had found their mark. Mr. Fisher, somewhat - perturbed, scuttled out into the middle of the ring, the Kid following in - his self-contained, stolid way. - </p> - <p> - The Cyclone now became still more cyclonic. He had a left arm which seemed - to open out in joints like a telescope. Several times when the Kid - appeared well out of distance there was a thud as a brown glove ripped in - over his guard and jerked his head back. But always he kept boring in, - delivering an occasional right to the body with the pleased smile of an - infant destroying a Noah's ark with a tack-hammer. Despite these efforts, - however, he was plainly getting all the worst of it. Energetic Mr. Fisher, - relying on his long left, was putting in three blows to his one. When the - gong sounded, ending the first round, the house was practically solid for - the Cyclone. Whoops and yells rose from everywhere. The building rang with - shouts of, "Oh, you Dick!" - </p> - <p> - Smith turned sadly to John. - </p> - <p> - "It seems to me," he said, "that this merry meeting looks like doing - Comrade Brady no good. I should not be surprised at any moment to see his - head bounce off on to the floor." - </p> - <p> - Rounds two and three were a repetition of round one. The Cyclone raged - almost unchecked about the ring. In one lightning rally in the third he - brought his right across squarely on to the Kid's jaw. It was a blow which - should have knocked any boxer out. The Kid merely staggered slightly, and - returned to business still smiling. - </p> - <p> - With the opening of round four there came a subtle change. The Cyclone's - fury was expending itself. That long left shot out less sharply. Instead - of being knocked back by it, the <i>Peaceful Moments</i> champion now took - the hits in his stride, and came shuffling in with his damaging - body-blows. There were cheers and "Oh, you Dick's!" at the sound of the - gong, but there was an appealing note in them this time. The gallant - sportsmen whose connection with boxing was confined to watching other men - fight and betting on what they considered a certainty, and who would have - expired promptly if anyone had tapped them sharply on their well-filled - vests, were beginning to fear that they might lose their money after all. - </p> - <p> - In the fifth round the thing became a certainty. Like the month of March, - the Cyclone, who had come in like a lion, was going out like a lamb. A - slight decrease in the pleasantness of the Kid's smile was noticeable. His - expression began to resemble more nearly the gloomy importance of the <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> photographs. Yells of agony from panic-stricken speculators - around the ring began to smite the rafters. The Cyclone, now but a gentle - breeze, clutched repeatedly, hanging on like a leech till removed by the - red-jerseyed referee. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly a grisly silence fell upon the house. For the Kid, battered, but - obviously content, was standing in the middle of the ring, while on the - ropes the Cyclone, drooping like a wet sock, was sliding slowly to the - floor. - </p> - <p> - "<i>Peaceful Moments</i> wins," said Smith. "An omen, I fancy, Comrade - John." - </p> - <p> - Penetrating into the Kid's dressing-room some moments later, the editorial - staff found the winner of the ten-round exhibition bout between members of - the club seated on a chair having his right leg rubbed by a shock-headed - man in a sweater, who had been one of his seconds during the conflict. The - Kid beamed as they entered. - </p> - <p> - "Gents," he said, "come right in. Mighty glad to see you." - </p> - <p> - "It is a relief to me, Comrade Brady," said Smith, "to find that you can - see us. I had expected to find that Comrade Fisher's purposeful wallops - had completely closed your star-likes." - </p> - <p> - "Sure, I never felt them. He's a good, quick boy, is Dick, but," continued - the Kid with powerful imagery "he couldn't hit a hole in a block of - ice-cream, not if he was to use a coke-hammer." - </p> - <p> - "And yet at one period in the proceedings," said Smith, "I fancied that - your head would come unglued at the neck. But the fear was merely - transient. When you began to get going, why, then I felt like some watcher - of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken, or like stout Cortez - when with eagle eyes he stared at the Pacific." - </p> - <p> - The Kid blinked. - </p> - <p> - "How's that?" he enquired. - </p> - <p> - "And why did I feel like that, Comrade Brady? I will tell you. Because my - faith in you was justified. Because there before me stood the ideal - fighting editor of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>. It is not a post that any - weakling can fill. Mere charm of manner cannot qualify a man for the - position. No one can hold down the job simply by having a kind heart or - being good at comic songs. No. We want a man of thews and sinews, a man - who would rather be hit on the head with a half-brick than not. And you, - Comrade Brady, are such a man." - </p> - <p> - The shock-headed man, who during this conversation had been concentrating - himself on his subject's left leg now announced that he guessed that would - about do, and having advised the Kid not to stop and pick daisies, but to - get into his clothes at once before he caught a chill, bade the company - goodnight and retired. - </p> - <p> - Smith shut the door. - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Brady," he said, "you know those articles about the tenements - we've been having in the paper?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure. I read 'em. They're to the good. It was about time some strong - josher came and put it across 'em." - </p> - <p> - "So we thought. Comrade Parker, however, totally disagreed with us." - </p> - <p> - "Parker?" - </p> - <p> - "That's what I'm coming to," said Smith. "The day before yesterday a man - named Parker called at the office and tried to buy us off." - </p> - <p> - "You gave him the hook, I guess?" queried the interested Kid. - </p> - <p> - "To such an extent, Comrade Brady," said Smith, "that he left breathing - threatenings and slaughter. And it is for that reason that we have - ventured to call upon you. We're pretty sure by this time that Comrade - Parker has put one of the gangs on to us." - </p> - <p> - "You don't say!" exclaimed the Kid. "Gee! They're tough propositions, - those gangs." - </p> - <p> - "So we've come along to you. We can look after ourselves out of the - office, but what we want is someone to help in case they try to rush us - there. In brief, a fighting editor. At all costs we must have privacy. No - writer can prune and polish his sentences to his satisfaction if he is - compelled constantly to break off in order to eject boisterous toughs. We - therefore offer you the job of sitting in the outer room and intercepting - these bravoes before they can reach us. The salary we leave to you. There - are doubloons and to spare in the old oak chest. Take what you need and - put the rest—if any—back. How does the offer strike you, - Comrade Brady?" - </p> - <p> - "Gents," said the Kid, "it's this way." - </p> - <p> - He slipped into his coat, and resumed. - </p> - <p> - "Now that I've made good by licking Dick, they'll be giving me a chance of - a big fight. Maybe with Jimmy Garvin. Well, if that happens, see what I - mean? I'll have to be going away somewhere and getting into training. I - shouldn't be able to come and sit with you. But, if you gents feel like - it, I'd be mighty glad to come in till I'm wanted to go into training - camp." - </p> - <p> - "Great," said Smith. "And touching salary—" - </p> - <p> - "Shucks!" said the Kid with emphasis. "Nix on the salary thing. I wouldn't - take a dime. If it hadn't 'a' been for you, I'd have been waiting still - for a chance of lining up in the championship class. That's good enough - for me. Any old thing you want me to do, I'll do it, and glad to." - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Brady," said Smith warmly, "you are, if I may say so, the goods. - You are, beyond a doubt, supremely the stuff. We three, then, - hand-in-hand, will face the foe, and if the foe has good, sound sense, he - will keep right away. You appear to be ready. Shall we meander forth?" - </p> - <p> - The building was empty and the lights were out when they emerged from the - dressing-room. They had to grope their way in darkness. It was raining - when they reached the street, and the only signs of life were a moist - policeman and the distant glare of saloon lights down the road. - </p> - <p> - They turned off to the left, and, after walking some hundred yards, found - themselves in a blind alley. - </p> - <p> - "Hello!" said John. "Where have we come to?" - </p> - <p> - Smith sighed. - </p> - <p> - "In my trusting way," he said, "I had imagined that either you or Comrade - Brady was in charge of this expedition and taking me by a known route to - the nearest subway station. I did not think to ask. I placed myself, - without hesitation, wholly in your hands." - </p> - <p> - "I thought the Kid knew the way," said John. - </p> - <p> - "I was just taggin' along with you gents," protested the light-weight. "I - thought you was taking me right. This is the first time I been up here." - </p> - <p> - "Next time we three go on a little jaunt anywhere," said Smith resignedly, - "it would be as well to take a map and a corps of guides with us. - Otherwise we shall start for Broadway and finish up at Minneapolis." - </p> - <p> - They emerged from the blind alley and stood in the dark street, looking - doubtfully up and down it. - </p> - <p> - "Aha!" said Smith suddenly. "I perceive a native. Several natives, in - fact. Quite a little covey of them. We will put our case before them, - concealing nothing, and rely on their advice to take us to our goal." - </p> - <p> - A little knot of men was approaching from the left. In the darkness it was - impossible to say how many of them were there. Smith stepped forward, the - Kid at his side. - </p> - <p> - "Excuse me, sir," he said to the leader, "but if you can spare me a moment - of your valuable time—" - </p> - <p> - There was a sudden shuffle of feet on the pavement, a quick movement on - the part of the Kid, a chunky sound as of wood striking wood, and the man - Smith had been addressing fell to the ground in a heap. - </p> - <p> - As he fell, something dropped from his hand on to the pavement with a bump - and a rattle. Stooping swiftly, the Kid picked it up, and handed it to - Smith. His fingers closed upon it. It was a short, wicked-looking little - bludgeon, the black-jack of the New York tough. - </p> - <p> - "Get busy," advised the Kid briefly. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX — THE FIRST BATTLE - </h2> - <p> - The promptitude and despatch with which the Kid had attended to the - gentleman with the black-jack had not been without its effect on the - followers of the stricken one. Physical courage is not an outstanding - quality of the New York gangsman. His personal preference is for retreat - when it is a question of unpleasantness with a stranger. And, in any case, - even when warring among themselves, the gangs exhibit a lively distaste - for the hard knocks of hand-to-hand fighting. Their chosen method of - battling is to lie down on the ground and shoot. - </p> - <p> - The Kid's rapid work on the present occasion created a good deal of - confusion. There was no doubt that much had been hoped for from speedy - attack. Also, the generalship of the expedition had been in the hands of - the fallen warrior. His removal from the sphere of active influence had - left the party without a head. And, to add to their discomfiture, they - could not account for the Kid. Smith they knew, and John was to be - accounted for, but who was this stranger with the square shoulders and the - uppercut that landed like a cannon ball? Something approaching a panic - prevailed among the gang. - </p> - <p> - It was not lessened by the behavior of the intended victims. John was the - first to join issue. He had been a few paces behind the others during the - black-jack incident, but, dark as it was, he had seen enough to show him - that the occasion was, as Smith would have said, one for the shrewd blow - rather than the prolonged parley. With a shout, he made a football rush - into the confused mass of the enemy. A moment later Smith and the Kid - followed, and there raged over the body of the fallen leader a battle of - Homeric type. - </p> - <p> - It was not a long affair. The rules and conditions governing the encounter - offended the delicate sensibilities of the gang. Like artists who feel - themselves trammeled by distasteful conventions, they were damped and - could not do themselves justice. Their forte was long-range fighting with - pistols. With that they felt en rapport. But this vulgar brawling in the - darkness with muscular opponents who hit hard and often with the clenched - fist was distasteful to them. They could not develop any enthusiasm for - it. They carried pistols, but it was too dark and the combatants were too - entangled to allow them to use these. - </p> - <p> - There was but one thing to be done. Reluctant as they might be to abandon - their fallen leader, it must be done. Already they were suffering - grievously from John, the black-jack, and the lightning blows of the Kid. - For a moment they hung, wavering, then stampeded in half-a-dozen different - directions, melting into the night whence they had come. - </p> - <p> - John, full of zeal, pursued one fugitive some fifty yards down the street, - but his quarry, exhibiting a rare turn of speed, easily outstripped him. - </p> - <p> - He came back, panting, to find Smith and the Kid examining the fallen - leader of the departed ones with the aid of a match, which went out just - as John arrived. - </p> - <p> - The Kid struck another. The head of it fell off and dropped upon the - up-turned face. The victim stirred, shook himself, sat up, and began to - mutter something in a foggy voice. - </p> - <p> - "He's still woozy," said the Kid. - </p> - <p> - "Still—what exactly, Comrade Brady?" - </p> - <p> - "In the air," explained the Kid. "Bats in the belfry. Dizzy. See what I - mean? It's often like that when a feller puts one in with a bit of weight - behind it just where that one landed. Gee! I remember when I fought Martin - Kelly; I was only starting to learn the game then. Martin and me was - mixing it good and hard all over the ring, when suddenly he puts over a - stiff one right on the point. What do you think I done? Fall down and take - the count? Not on your life. I just turns round and walks straight out of - the ring to my dressing-room. Willie Harvey, who was seconding me, comes - tearing in after me, and finds me getting into my clothes. 'What's doing, - Kid?' he asks. 'I'm going fishin', Willie,' I says. 'It's a lovely day.' - 'You've lost the fight,' he says. 'Fight?' says I. 'What fight?' See what - I mean? I hadn't a notion of what had happened. It was half an hour and - more before I could remember a thing." - </p> - <p> - During this reminiscence, the man on the ground had contrived to clear his - mind of the mistiness induced by the Kid's upper cut. The first sign he - showed of returning intelligence was a sudden dash for safety up the road. - But he had not gone five yards when he sat down limply. - </p> - <p> - The Kid was inspired to further reminiscence. - </p> - <p> - "Guess he's feeling pretty poor," he said. "It's no good him trying to run - for a while after he's put his chin in the way of a real live one. I - remember when Joe Peterson put me out, way back when I was new to the game—it - was the same year I fought Martin Kelly. He had an awful punch, had old - Joe, and he put me down and out in the eighth round. After the fight they - found me on the fire-escape outside my dressing-room. 'Come in, Kid,' says - they. 'It's all right, chaps,' I says, 'I'm dying.' Like that. 'It's all - right, chaps, I'm dying.' Same with this guy. See what I mean?" - </p> - <p> - They formed a group about the fallen black-jack expert. - </p> - <p> - "Pardon us," said Smith courteously, "for breaking in upon your reverie, - but if you could spare us a moment of your valuable time, there are one or - two things which we would like to know." - </p> - <p> - "Sure thing," agreed the Kid. - </p> - <p> - "In the first place," continued Smith, "would it be betraying professional - secrets if you told us which particular bevy of energetic cutthroats it is - to which you are attached?" - </p> - <p> - "Gent," explained the Kid, "wants to know what's your gang." - </p> - <p> - The man on the ground muttered something that to Smith and John was - unintelligible. - </p> - <p> - "It would be a charity," said the former, "if some philanthropist would - give this fellow elocution lessons. Can you interpret, Comrade Brady?" - </p> - <p> - "Says it's the Three Points," said the Kid. - </p> - <p> - "The Three Points? That's Spider Reilly's lot. Perhaps this <i>is</i> - Spider Reilly?" - </p> - <p> - "Nope," said the Kid. "I know the Spider. This ain't him. This is some - other mutt." - </p> - <p> - "Which other mutt in particular?" asked Smith. "Try and find out, Comrade - Brady. You seem to be able to understand what he says. To me, personally, - his remarks sound like the output of a gramophone with a hot potato in its - mouth." - </p> - <p> - "Says he's Jack Repetto," announced the interpreter. - </p> - <p> - There was another interruption at this moment. The bashful Mr. Repetto, - plainly a man who was not happy in the society of strangers, made another - attempt to withdraw. Reaching out a pair of lean hands, he pulled the - Kid's legs from under him with a swift jerk, and, wriggling to his feet, - started off again down the road. Once more, however, desire outran - performance. He got as far as the nearest street-lamp, but no further. The - giddiness seemed to overcome him again, for he grasped the lamp-post, and, - sliding slowly to the ground, sat there motionless. - </p> - <p> - The Kid, whose fall had jolted and bruised him, was inclined to be - wrathful and vindictive. He was the first of the three to reach the - elusive Mr. Repetto, and if that worthy had happened to be standing - instead of sitting it might have gone hard with him. But the Kid was not - the man to attack a fallen foe. He contented himself with brushing the - dust off his person and addressing a richly abusive flow of remarks to Mr. - Repetto. - </p> - <p> - Under the rays of the lamp it was possible to discern more closely the - features of the black-jack exponent. There was a subtle but noticeable - resemblance to those of Mr. Bat Jarvis. Apparently the latter's oiled - forelock, worn low over the forehead, was more a concession to the general - fashion prevailing in gang circles than an expression of personal taste. - Mr. Repetto had it, too. In his case it was almost white, for the fallen - warrior was an albino. His eyes, which were closed, had white lashes and - were set as near together as Nature had been able to manage without - actually running them into one another. His underlip protruded and - drooped. Looking at him, one felt instinctively that no judging committee - of a beauty contest would hesitate a moment before him. - </p> - <p> - It soon became apparent that the light of the lamp, though bestowing the - doubtful privilege of a clearer view of Mr. Repetto's face, held certain - disadvantages. Scarcely had the staff of <i>Peaceful Moments</i> reached - the faint yellow pool of light, in the center of which Mr. Repetto - reclined, than, with a suddenness which caused them to leap into the air, - there sounded from the darkness down the road the crack-crack-crack of a - revolver. Instantly from the opposite direction came other shots. Three - bullets cut grooves in the roadway almost at John's feet. The Kid gave a - sudden howl. Smith's hat, suddenly imbued with life, sprang into the air - and vanished, whirling into the night. - </p> - <p> - The thought did not come to them consciously at the moment, there being - little time to think, but it was evident as soon as, diving out of the - circle of light into the sheltering darkness, they crouched down and - waited for the next move, that a somewhat skilful ambush had been - effected. The other members of the gang, who had fled with such remarkable - speed, had by no means been eliminated altogether from the game. While the - questioning of Mr. Repetto had been in progress, they had crept back, - unperceived except by Mr. Repetto himself. It being too dark for - successful shooting, it had become Mr. Repetto's task to lure his captors - into the light, which he had accomplished with considerable skill. - </p> - <p> - For some minutes the battle halted. There was dead silence. The circle of - light was empty now. Mr. Repetto had vanished. A tentative shot from - nowhere ripped through the air close to where Smith lay flattened on the - pavement. And then the pavement began to vibrate and give out a curious - resonant sound. Somewhere—it might be near or far—a policeman - had heard the shots, and was signaling for help to other policemen along - the line by beating on the flagstones with his night stick. The noise - grew, filling the still air. From somewhere down the road sounded the ring - of running feet. - </p> - <p> - "De cops!" cried a voice. "Beat it!" - </p> - <p> - Next moment the night was full of clatter. The gang was "beating it." - </p> - <p> - Smith rose to his feet and felt his wet and muddy clothes ruefully. - </p> - <p> - The rescue party was coming up at the gallop. - </p> - <p> - "What's doing?" asked a voice. - </p> - <p> - "Nothing now," said the disgusted voice of the Kid from the shadows. - "They've beaten it." - </p> - <p> - The circle of lamplight became as if by mutual consent a general - rendezvous. Three gray-clad policemen, tough, clean-shaven men with keen - eyes and square jaws, stood there, revolvers in one hand, night sticks in - the other. Smith, hatless and muddy, joined them. John and the Kid, the - latter bleeding freely from his left ear, the lobe of which had been - chipped by a bullet, were the last to arrive. - </p> - <p> - "What's been the rough-house?" inquired one of the policemen, mildly - interested. - </p> - <p> - "Do you know a sport of the name of Repetto?" enquired Smith. - </p> - <p> - "Jack Repetto? Sure." - </p> - <p> - "He belongs to the Three Points," said another intelligent officer, as one - naming some fashionable club. - </p> - <p> - "When next you see him," said Smith, "I should be obliged if you would use - your authority to make him buy me a new hat. I could do with another pair - of trousers, too, but I will not press the trousers. A new hat is, - however, essential. Mine has a six-inch hole in it." - </p> - <p> - "Shot at you, did they?" said one of the policemen, as who should say, - "Tut, tut!" - </p> - <p> - "Shot at us!" burst out the ruffled Kid. "What do you think's been - happening? Think an aeroplane ran into my ear and took half of it off? - Think the noise was somebody opening bottles of pop? Think those guys that - sneaked off down the road was just training for a Marathon?" - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Brady," said Smith, "touches the spot. He—" - </p> - <p> - "Say, are you Kid Brady?" enquired one of the officers. For the first time - the constabulary had begun to display real animation. - </p> - <p> - "Reckoned I'd seen you somewhere!" said another. "You licked Cyclone Dick - all right, Kid, I hear." - </p> - <p> - "And who but a bone-head thought he wouldn't?" demanded the third warmly. - "He could whip a dozen Cyclone Dicks in the same evening with his eyes - shut." - </p> - <p> - "He's the next champeen," admitted the first speaker. - </p> - <p> - "If he juts it over Jimmy Garvin," argued the second. - </p> - <p> - "Jimmy Garvin!" cried the third. "He can whip twenty Jimmy Garvins with - his feet tied. I tell you—" - </p> - <p> - "I am loath," observed Smith, "to interrupt this very impressive brain - barbecue, but, trivial as it may seem to you, to me there is a certain - interest in this other little matter of my ruined hat. I know that it may - strike you as hypersensitive of us to protest against being riddled with - bullets, but—" - </p> - <p> - "Well, what's been doin'?" inquired the Force. It was a nuisance, this - perpetual harping on trifles when the deep question of the light-weight - championship of the world was under discussion, but the sooner it was - attended to, the sooner it would be over. - </p> - <p> - John undertook to explain. - </p> - <p> - "The Three Points laid for us," he said. "This man, Jack Repetto, was - bossing the crowd. The Kid put one over on to Jack Repetto's chin, and we - were asking him a few questions when the rest came back, and started - shooting. Then we got to cover quick, and you came up and they beat it." - </p> - <p> - "That," said Smith, nodding, "is a very fair <i>precis</i> of the - evening's events. We should like you, if you will be so good, to corral - this Comrade Repetto, and see that he buys me a new hat." - </p> - <p> - "We'll round Jack up," said one of the policemen indulgently. - </p> - <p> - "Do it nicely," urged Smith. "Don't go hurting his feelings." - </p> - <p> - The second policeman gave it as his opinion that Jack was getting too gay. - The third policeman conceded this. Jack, he said, had shown signs for some - time past of asking for it in the neck. It was an error on Jack's part, he - gave his hearers to understand, to assume that the lid was completely off - the great city of New York. - </p> - <p> - "Too blamed fresh he's gettin'," the trio agreed. They seemed to think it - was too bad of Jack. - </p> - <p> - "The wrath of the Law," said Smith, "is very terrible. We will leave the - matter, then, in your hands. In the meantime, we should be glad if you - would direct us to the nearest subway station. Just at the moment, the - cheerful lights of the Great White Way are what I seem chiefly to need." - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - So ended the opening engagement of the campaign, in a satisfactory but far - from decisive victory for the <i>Peaceful Moments</i>' army. - </p> - <p> - "The victory," said Smith, "was not bloodless. Comrade Brady's ear, my hat—these - are not slight casualties. On the other hand, the elimination of Comrade - Repetto is pleasant. I know few men whom I would not rather meet on a - lonely road than Comrade Repetto. He is one of nature's black-jackers. - Probably the thing crept upon him slowly. He started, possibly, in a - merely tentative way by slugging one of the family circle. His aunt, let - us say, or his small brother. But, once started, he is unable to resist - the craving. The thing grips him like dram-drinking. He black-jacks now - not because he really wants to, but because he cannot help himself. - There's something singularly consoling in the thought that Comrade Repetto - will no longer be among those present." - </p> - <p> - "There are others," said John. - </p> - <p> - "As you justly remark," said Smith, "there are others. I am glad we have - secured Comrade Brady's services. We may need them." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX — BETTY AT LARGE - </h2> - <p> - It was not till Betty found herself many blocks distant from the office of - <i>Peaceful Moments</i> that she checked her headlong flight. She had run - down the stairs and out into the street blindly, filled only with that - passion for escape which had swept her away from Mervo. Not till she had - dived into the human river of Broadway and reached Times Square did she - feel secure. Then, with less haste, she walked on to the park, and sat - down on a bench, to think. - </p> - <p> - Inevitably she had placed her own construction on John's sudden appearance - in New York and at the spot where only one person in any way connected - with Mervo knew her to be. She did not know that Smith and he were - friends, and did not, therefore, suspect that the former and not herself - might be the object of his visit. Nor had any word reached her of what had - happened at Mervo after her departure. She had taken it for granted that - things had continued as she had left them; and the only possible - explanation to her of John's presence in New York was that, acting under - orders from Mr. Scobell, he had come to try and bring her back. - </p> - <p> - She shuddered as she conjured up the scene that must have taken place if - Pugsy had not mentioned his name and she had gone on into the inner room. - In itself the thought that, after what she had said that morning on the - island, after she had forced on him, stripping it of the uttermost rag of - disguise, the realization of how his position appeared to her, he should - have come, under orders, to bring her back, was well-nigh unendurable. But - to have met him, to have seen the man she loved plunging still deeper into - shame, would have been pain beyond bearing. Better a thousand times than - that this panic flight into the iron wilderness of New York. - </p> - <p> - It was cool and soothing in the park. The roar of the city was hushed. It - was pleasant to sit there and watch the squirrels playing on the green - slopes or scampering up into the branches through which one could see the - gleam of water. Her thoughts became less chaotic. The peace of the summer - afternoon stole upon her. - </p> - <p> - It did not take her long to make up her mind that the door of <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> was closed to her. John, not finding her, might go away, but - he would return. Reluctantly, she abandoned the paper. Her heart was heavy - when she had formed the decision. She had been as happy at <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> as it was possible for her to be now. She would miss Smith and - the leisurely work and the feeling of being one of a team, working in a - good cause. And that, brought Broster Street back to her mind, and she - thought of the children. No, she could not abandon them. She had started - the tenement articles, and she would go on with them. But she must do it - without ever venturing into the dangerous neighborhood of the office. - </p> - <p> - A squirrel ran up and sat begging for a nut. Betty searched in the grass - in the hope of finding one, but came upon nothing but shells. The squirrel - bounded away, with a disdainful flick of the tail. - </p> - <p> - Betty laughed. - </p> - <p> - "You think of nothing but food. You ought to be ashamed to be so greedy." - </p> - <p> - And then it came to her suddenly that it was no trifle, this same problem - of food. - </p> - <p> - The warm, green park seemed to grow chill and gray. Once again she must - deal with life's material side. - </p> - <p> - Her case was at the same time better and worse than it had been on that - other occasion when she had faced the future in the French train; better, - because then New York had been to her something vague and terrifying, - while now it was her city; worse, because she could no longer seek help - from Mrs. Oakley. - </p> - <p> - That Mrs. Oakley had given John the information which had enabled him to - discover her hiding-place, Betty felt certain. By what other possible - means could he have found it? Why Mrs. Oakley, whom she had considered an - ally, should have done so, she did not know. She attributed it to a change - of mind, a reconsideration of the case when uninfluenced by sentiment. And - yet it seemed strange. Perhaps John had gone to her and the sight of him - had won the old lady over to his side. It might be so. At any rate, it - meant that the cottage on Staten Island, like the office of <i>Peaceful - Moments</i>, was closed to her. She must look elsewhere for help, or trust - entirely to herself. - </p> - <p> - She sat on, thinking, with grave, troubled eyes, while the shadows - lengthened and the birds rustled sleepily in the branches overhead. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - Among the good qualities, none too numerous, of Mr. Bat Jarvis, of Groome - Street in the Bowery, early rising was not included. It was his habit to - retire to rest at an advanced hour, and to balance accounts by lying abed - on the following morning. This idiosyncrasy of his was well known in the - neighborhood and respected, and it was generally bold to be both bad taste - and unsafe to visit Bat's shop until near the fashionable hour for - luncheon, when the great one, shirt-sleeved and smoking a short pipe, - would appear in the doorway, looking out upon the world and giving it to - understand that he was now open to be approached by deserving - acquaintances. - </p> - <p> - When, therefore, at ten o'clock in the morning his slumbers were cut short - by a sharp rapping at the front door, his first impression was that he had - been dreaming. When, after a brief interval, the noise was resumed, he - rose in his might and, knuckling the sleep from his eyes, went down, - tight-lipped, to interview this person. - </p> - <p> - He had got as far as a preliminary "Say!" when speech was wiped from his - lips as with a sponge, and he stood gaping and ashamed, for the murderer - of sleep and untimely knocker on front doors was Betty. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis had not forgotten Betty. His meeting with her at the office of - <i>Peaceful Moments</i> had marked an epoch in his life. Never before had - anyone quite like her crossed his path, and at that moment romance had - come to him. His was essentially a respectful admiration. He was content—indeed, - he preferred to worship from afar. Of his own initiative he would never - have met her again. In her presence, with those gray eyes of hers looking - at him, tremors ran down his spine, and his conscience, usually a battered - and downtrodden wreck, became fiercely aggressive. She filled him with - novel emotions, and whether these were pleasant or painful was more than - he could say. He had not the gift of analysis where his feelings were - concerned. To himself he put it, broadly, that she made him feel like a - nickel with a hole in it. But that was not entirely satisfactory. There - were other and pleasanter emotions mixed in with this humility. The - thought of her made him feel, for instance, vaguely chivalrous. He wanted - to do risky and useful things for her. Thus, if any fresh guy should - endeavor to get gay with her, it would, he felt, be a privilege to fix - that same guy. If she should be in bad, he would be more than ready to get - busy on her behalf. - </p> - <p> - But he had never expected to meet her again, certainly not on his own - doorstep at ten in the morning. To Bat ten in the morning was included - with the small hours. - </p> - <p> - Betty smiled at him, a little anxiously. She had no suspicion that she - played star to Mr. Jarvis' moth in the latter's life, and, as she eyed - him, standing there on the doorstep, her excuse for coming to him began to - seem terribly flimsy. Not being aware that he was in reality a tough - Bayard, keenly desirous of obeying her lightest word, she had staked her - all on the chance of his remembering the cat episode and being grateful on - account of it; and in the cold light of the morning this idea, born in the - watches of the night, when things tend to lose their proportion, struck - her as less happy than she had fancied. Suppose he had forgotten all about - it! Suppose he should be violent! For a moment her heart sank. He - certainly was not a pleasing and encouraging sight, as he stood there - blinking at her. No man looks his best immediately on rising from bed, and - Bat, even at his best, was not a hero of romance. His forelock drooped - dankly over his brow; there was stubble on his chin; his eyes were red, - like a dog's. He did not look like the Fairy Prince who was to save her in - her trouble. - </p> - <p> - "I—I hope you remember me, Mr. Jarvis," she faltered. "Your cat. I—" - </p> - <p> - He nodded speechlessly. Hideous things happened to his face. He was really - trying to smile pleasantly, but it seemed a scowl to Betty, and her voice - died away. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis spoke. - </p> - <p> - "Ma'am—sure!—step 'nside." - </p> - <p> - Betty followed him into the shop. There were birds in cages on the walls, - and, patroling the floor, a great company of cats, each with its leather - collar. One rubbed itself against Betty's skirt. She picked it up, and - began to stroke it. And, looking over its head at Mr. Jarvis, she was - aware that he was beaming sheepishly. - </p> - <p> - His eyes darted away the instant they met hers, but Betty had seen enough - to show her that she had mistaken nervousness for truculence. Immediately, - she was at her ease, and womanlike, had begun to control the situation. - She made conversation pleasantly, praising the cats, admiring the birds, - touching lightly on the general subject of domestic pets, until her - woman's sixth sense told her that her host's panic had passed, and that - she might now proceed to discuss business. - </p> - <p> - "I hope you don't mind my coming to you, Mr. Jarvis," she said. "You know - you told me to if ever I were in trouble, so I've taken you at your word. - You don't mind?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis gulped, and searched for words. - </p> - <p> - "Glad," he said at last. - </p> - <p> - "I've left <i>Peaceful Moments</i>. You know I used to be stenographer - there." - </p> - <p> - She was surprised and gratified to see a look of consternation spread - itself across Mr. Jarvis' face. It was a hopeful sign that he should take - her cause to heart to such an extent. - </p> - <p> - But Mr. Jarvis' consternation was not due wholly to solicitude for her. - His thoughts at that moment, put, after having been expurgated, into - speech, might have been summed up in the line: "Of all sad words of tongue - or pen the saddest are these, 'It might have been'!" - </p> - <p> - "Ain't youse woikin' dere no more? Is dat right?" he gasped. "Gee! I wisht - I'd 'a' known it sooner. Why, a guy come to me and wants to give me half a - ton of the long green to go to dat poiper what youse was woikin' on and - fix de guy what's runnin' it. An' I truns him down 'cos I don't want you - to be frown out of your job. Say, why youse quit woikin' dere?" His eyes - narrowed as an idea struck him. "Say," he went on, "you ain't bin fired? - Has de boss give youse de trun-down? 'Cos if he has, say de woid and I'll - fix him for youse, loidy. An' it won't set you back a nickel," he - concluded handsomely. - </p> - <p> - "No, no," cried Betty, horrified. "Mr. Smith has been very kind to me. I - left of my own free will." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis looked disappointed. His demeanor was like that of some - mediaeval knight called back on the eve of starting out to battle with the - Paynim for the honor of his lady. - </p> - <p> - "What was that you said about the man who came to you and offered you - money?" asked Betty. - </p> - <p> - Her mind had flashed back to Mr. Parker's visit, and her heart was beating - quickly. - </p> - <p> - "Sure! He come to me all right an' wants de guy on de poiper fixed. An' I - truns him down." - </p> - <p> - "Oh! You won't dream of doing anything to hurt Mr. Smith, will you, Mr. - Jarvis?" said Betty anxiously. - </p> - <p> - "Not if you say so, loidy." - </p> - <p> - "And your—friends? You won't let them do anything?" - </p> - <p> - "Nope." - </p> - <p> - Betty breathed freely again. Her knowledge of the East Side was small, and - that there might be those there who acted independently of Mr. Jarvis, - disdainful of his influence, did not occur to her. She returned to her own - affairs, satisfied that danger no longer threatened. - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Jarvis, I wonder if you can help me. I want to find some work to do," - she said. - </p> - <p> - "Woik?" - </p> - <p> - "I have to earn my living, you see, and I'm afraid I don't know how to - begin." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis pondered. "What sort of woik?" - </p> - <p> - "Any sort," said Betty valiantly. "I don't care what it is." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis knitted his brows in thought. He was not used to being an - employment agency. But Betty was Betty, and even at the cost of a headache - he must think of something. - </p> - <p> - At the end of five minutes inspiration came to him. - </p> - <p> - "Say," he said, "what do youse call de guy dat sits an' takes de money at - an eatin'-joint? Cashier? Well, say, could youse be dat?" - </p> - <p> - "It would be just the thing. Do you know a place?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure. Just around de corner. I'll take you dere." - </p> - <p> - Betty waited while he put on his coat, and they started out. Betty chatted - as they walked, but Mr. Jarvis, who appeared a little self-conscious - beneath the unconcealed interest of the neighbors, was silent. At - intervals he would turn and glare ferociously at the heads that popped out - of windows or protruded from doorways. Fame has its penalties, and most of - the population of that portion of the Bowery had turned out to see their - most prominent citizen so romantically employed as a squire of dames. - </p> - <p> - After a short walk Bat halted the expedition before a dingy restaurant. - The glass window bore in battered letters the name, Fontelli. - </p> - <p> - "Dis is de joint," he said. - </p> - <p> - Inside the restaurant a dreamy-eyed Italian sat gazing at vacancy and - twirling a pointed mustache. In a far corner a solitary customer was - finishing a late breakfast. - </p> - <p> - Signor Fontelli, for the sad-eyed exile was he, sprang to his feet at the - sight of Mr. Jarvis' well-known figure. An ingratiating, but nervous, - smile came into view behind the pointed mustache. - </p> - <p> - "Hey, Tony," said Mr. Jarvis, coming at once to the point, "I want you to - know dis loidy. She's going to be cashier at dis joint." - </p> - <p> - Signor Fontelli looked at Betty and shook his head. He smiled - deprecatingly. His manner seemed to indicate that, while she met with the - approval of Fontelli, the slave of her sex, to Fontelli, the employer, she - appealed in vain. He gave his mustache a sorrowful twirl. - </p> - <p> - "Ah, no," he sighed. "Not da cashier do I need. I take-a myself da money." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis looked at him coldly. He continued to look at him coldly. His - lower jaw began slowly to protrude, and his forehead retreated further - behind its zareba of forelock. - </p> - <p> - There was a pause. The signor was plainly embarrassed. - </p> - <p> - "Dis loidy," repeated Mr. Jarvis, "is cashier at dis joint at six per—" - He paused. "Does dat go?" he added smoothly. - </p> - <p> - Certainly there was magnetism about Mr. Jarvis. With a minimum of words he - produced remarkable results. Something seemed to happen suddenly to Signor - Fontelli's spine. He wilted like a tired flower. A gesture, in which were - blended resignation, humility, and a desire to be at peace with all men, - particularly Mr. Jarvis, completed his capitulation. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis waited while Betty was instructed in her simple duties, then - drew her aside. - </p> - <p> - "Say," he remarked confidentially, "youse'll be all right here. Six per - ain't all de dough dere is in de woild, but, bein' cashier, see, you can - swipe a whole heap more whenever you feel like it. And if Tony registers a - kick, I'll come around and talk to him—see? Dat's right. - Good-morning, loidy." - </p> - <p> - And, having delivered these admirable hints to young cashiers in a hurry - to get rich, Mr. Jarvis ducked his head in a species of bow, declined to - be thanked, and shuffled out into the street, leaving Betty to open her - new career by taking thirty-seven cents from the late breakfaster. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI — CHANGES IN THE STAFF - </h2> - <p> - Three days had elapsed since the battle which had opened the campaign, and - there had been no further movement on the part of the enemy. Smith was - puzzled. A strange quiet seemed to be brooding over the other camp. He - could not believe that a single defeat had crushed the foe, but it was - hard to think of any other explanation. - </p> - <p> - It was Pugsy Maloney who, on the fourth morning, brought to the office the - inner history of the truce. His version was brief and unadorned, as was - the way with his narratives. Such things as first causes and piquant - details he avoided, as tending to prolong the telling excessively, thus - keeping him from the perusal of his cowboy stories. He gave the thing out - merely as an item of general interest, a bubble on the surface of the life - of a great city. He did not know how nearly interested were his employers - in any matter touching that gang which is known as the Three Points. - </p> - <p> - Pugsy said: "Dere's been fuss'n going on down where I live. Dude Dawson's - mad at Spider Reilly, and now de Table Hills is layin' for de T'ree - Points, to soak it to 'em. Dat's right." - </p> - <p> - He then retired to his outer fastness, yielding further details jerkily - and with the distrait air of one whose mind is elsewhere. - </p> - <p> - Skilfully extracted and pieced together, these details formed themselves - into the following typical narrative of East Side life. - </p> - <p> - There were four really important gangs in New York at this time. There - were other less important institutions besides, but these were little more - than mere friendly gatherings of old boyhood chums for purposes of mutual - companionship. They might grow into formidable organizations in time, but - for the moment the amount of ice which good judges declared them to cut - was but small. They would "stick up" an occasional wayfarer for his - "cush," and they carried "canisters" and sometimes fired them off, but - these things do not signify the cutting of ice. In matters political there - were only four gangs which counted, the East Side, the Groome Street, the - Three Points and the Table Hill. Greatest of these, by virtue of their - numbers, were the East Side and the Groome Street, the latter presided - over at the time of this story by Mr. Bat Jarvis. These two were colossal, - and, though they might fight each other, were immune from attack at the - hands of the rest. - </p> - <p> - But between the other gangs, and especially between the Table Hill and the - Three Points, which were much of a size, warfare raged as frequently as - among the Republics of South America. There had always been bad blood - between the Table Hill and the Three Points. Little events, trifling in - themselves, had always occurred to shatter friendly relations just when - there seemed a chance of their being formed. Thus, just as the Table - Hillites were beginning to forgive the Three Points for shooting the - redoubtable Paul Horgan down at Coney Island, a Three Pointer - injudiciously wiped out a Table Hillite near Canal Street. He pleaded - self-defense, and in any case it was probably mere thoughtlessness, but - nevertheless the Table Hillites were ruffled. - </p> - <p> - That had been a month or so back. During that month things had been - simmering down, and peace was just preparing to brood when there occurred - the incident alluded to by Pugsy, the regrettable falling out between Dude - Dawson and Spider Reilly. - </p> - <p> - To be as brief as possible, Dude Dawson had gone to spend a happy evening - at a dancing saloon named Shamrock Hall, near Groome Street. Now, Shamrock - Hall belonged to a Mr. Maginnis, a friend of Bat Jarvis, and was under the - direct protection of that celebrity. It was, therefore, sacred ground, and - Mr. Dawson visited it in a purely private and peaceful capacity. The last - thing he intended was to spoil the harmony of the evening. - </p> - <p> - Alas for the best intentions! Two-stepping clumsily round the room—for - he was a poor, though enthusiastic, dancer—Dude Dawson collided with - and upset a certain Reddy Davis and his partner. Reddy Davis was a member - of the Three Points, and his temper was the temper of a red-headed man. He - "slugged" Mr. Dawson. Mr. Dawson, more skilful at the fray than at the - dance, joined battle willingly, and they were absorbed in a stirring - combat, when an interruption occurred. In the far corner of the room, - surrounded by admiring friends, sat Spider Reilly, monarch of the Three - Points. He had noticed that there was a slight disturbance at the other - side of the hall, but had given it little attention till the dancing - ceasing suddenly and the floor emptying itself of its crowd, he had a - plain view of Mr. Dawson and Mr. Davis squaring up at each other for the - second round. - </p> - <p> - We must assume that Mr. Reilly was not thinking of what he did, for his - action was contrary to all rules of gang etiquette. In the street it would - have been perfectly legitimate, even praiseworthy, but in a dance-hall - under the protection of a neutral power it was unpardonable. - </p> - <p> - What he did was to produce his revolver, and shoot the unsuspecting Mr. - Dawson in the leg. Having done which, he left hurriedly, fearing the wrath - of Bat Jarvis. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Dawson, meanwhile, was attended to and helped home. Willing informants - gave him the name of his aggressor, and before morning the Table Hill camp - was in a ferment. Shooting broke out in three places, though there were no - casualties. - </p> - <p> - When the day dawned there existed between the two gangs a state of war - more bitter than any in their record, for this time it was chieftain who - had assaulted chieftain, Royal blood had been spilt. - </p> - <p> - Such was the explanation of the lull in the campaign against <i>Peaceful - Moments</i>. The new war had taken the mind of Spider Reilly and his - warriors off the paper and its affairs for the moment, much as the - unexpected appearance of a mad bull would make a man forget that he had - come out snipe-shooting. - </p> - <p> - At present there had been no pitched battle. As was usual between the - gangs, war had broken out in a somewhat tentative fashion at first. There - had been skirmishes by the wayside, but nothing more. The two armies were - sparring for an opening. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - Smith was distinctly relieved at the respite, for necessitating careful - thought. This was the defection of Kid Brady. - </p> - <p> - The Kid's easy defeat of Cyclone Dick Fisher had naturally created a - sensation in sporting circles. He had become famous in a night. It was not - with surprise, therefore, that Smith received from his fighting editor the - information that he had been matched against one Eddie Wood, whose fame - outshone even that of the late Cyclone. - </p> - <p> - The Kid, a white man to the core, exhibited quite a feudal loyalty to the - paper which had raised him from the ruck and placed him on the road to - eminence. - </p> - <p> - "Say the word," he said, "and I'll call it off. If you feel you need me - around here, Mr. Smith, say so, and I'll side-step Eddie." - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Brady," said Smith with enthusiasm, "I have had occasion before - to call you sport. I do so again. But I'm not going to stand in your way. - If you eliminate this Comrade Wood, they will have to give you a chance - against Jimmy Garvin, won't they?" - </p> - <p> - "I guess that's right," said the Kid. "Eddie stayed nineteen rounds - against Jimmy, and, if I can put him away, it gets me clear into line with - Jim, and he'll have to meet me." - </p> - <p> - "Then go in and win, Comrade Brady. We shall miss you. It will be as if a - ray of sunshine had been removed from the office. But you mustn't throw a - chance away." - </p> - <p> - "I'll train at White Plains," said the Kid, "so I'll be pretty near in - case I'm wanted." - </p> - <p> - "Oh, we shall be all right," said Smith, "and if you win, we'll bring out - a special number. Good luck, Comrade Brady, and many thanks for your - help." - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - John, when he arrived at the office and learned the news, was for relying - on their own unaided efforts. - </p> - <p> - "And, anyway," he said, "I don't see who else there is to help us. You - could tell the police, I suppose," he went on doubtfully. - </p> - <p> - Smith shook his head. - </p> - <p> - "The New York policeman, Comrade John, is, like all great men, somewhat - peculiar. If you go to a New York policeman and exhibit a black eye, he is - more likely to express admiration for the handiwork of the citizen - responsible for the same than sympathy. No; since coming to this city I - have developed a habit of taking care of myself, or employing private - help. I do not want allies who will merely shake their heads at Comrade - Reilly and his merry men, however sternly. I want someone who, if - necessary, will soak it to them good." - </p> - <p> - "Sure," said John. "But who is there now the Kid's gone?" - </p> - <p> - "Who else but Comrade Jarvis?" said Smith. - </p> - <p> - "Jarvis? Bat Jarvis?" - </p> - <p> - "The same. I fancy that we shall find, on enquiry, that we are ace high - with him. At any rate, there is no harm in sounding him. It is true that - he may have forgotten, or it may be that it is to Comrade Brown alone that - he is—" - </p> - <p> - "Who's Brown?" asked John. - </p> - <p> - "Our late stenographer," explained Smith. "A Miss Brown. She entertained - Comrade Jarvis' cat, if you remember. I wonder what has become of her. She - has sent in three more corking efforts on the subject of Broster Street, - but she gives no address. I wish I knew where she was. I'd have liked for - you to meet her." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII — A GATHERING OF CAT SPECIALISTS - </h2> - <p> - "It will probably be necessary," said Smith, as they set out for Groome - Street, "to allude to you, Comrade John, in the course of this interview, - as one of our most eminent living cat-fanciers. You have never met Comrade - Jarvis, I believe? Well, he is a gentleman with just about enough forehead - to prevent his front hair getting inextricably blended with his eyebrows, - and he owns twenty-three cats, each with a leather collar round its neck. - It is, I fancy, the cat note which we shall have to strike to-day. If only - Comrade Brown were with us, we could appeal to his finer feelings. But he - has seen me only once and you never, and I should not care to bet that he - will feel the least particle of dismay at the idea of our occiputs getting - all mussed up with a black-jack. But when I inform him that you are an - English cat-fancier, and that in your island home you have seventy-four - fine cats, mostly Angoras, that will be a different matter. I shall be - surprised if he does not fall on your neck." - </p> - <p> - They found Mr. Jarvis in his fancier's shop, engaged in the intellectual - occupation of greasing a cat's paws with butter. He looked up as they - entered, and then resumed his task. - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Jarvis," said Smith, "we meet again. You remember me?" - </p> - <p> - "Nope," said Mr. Jarvis promptly. - </p> - <p> - Smith was not discouraged. - </p> - <p> - "Ah!" he said tolerantly, "the fierce rush of New York life! How it wipes - from the retina to-day the image impressed on it but yesterday. Is it not - so, Comrade Jarvis?" - </p> - <p> - The cat-expert concentrated himself on his patient's paws without - replying. - </p> - <p> - "A fine animal," said Smith, adjusting his monocle. "To what particular - family of the <i>Felis Domestica</i> does that belong? In color it - resembles a Neapolitan ice more than anything." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis' manner became unfriendly. - </p> - <p> - "Say, what do youse want? That's straight, ain't it? If youse want to buy - a boid or a snake, why don't youse say so?" - </p> - <p> - "I stand corrected," said Smith; "I should have remembered that time is - money. I called in here partly in the hope that, though you only met me - once—on the stairs of my office, you might retain pleasant - recollections of me, but principally in order that I might make two very - eminent cat-fanciers acquainted. This," he said, with a wave of his hand - in the direction of John, "is Comrade Maude, possibly the best known of - English cat-fanciers. Comrade Maude's stud of Angoras is celebrated - wherever the English language is spoken." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis's expression changed. He rose, and, having inspected John with - silent admiration for a while, extended a well-buttered hand towards him. - Smith looked on benevolently. - </p> - <p> - "What Comrade Maude does not know about cats," he said, "is not knowledge. - His information on Angoras alone would fill a volume." - </p> - <p> - "Say"—Mr. Jarvis was evidently touching on a point which had weighed - deeply upon him—"why's catnip called catnip?" - </p> - <p> - John looked at Smith helplessly. It sounded like a riddle, but it was - obvious that Mr. Jarvis's motive in putting the question was not - frivolous. He really wished to know. - </p> - <p> - "The word, as Comrade Maude was just about to observe," said Smith, "is a - corruption of catmint. Why it should be so corrupted I do not know. But - what of that? The subject is too deep to be gone fully into at the moment. - I should recommend you to read Mr. Maude's little brochure on the matter. - Passing lightly on from that—" - </p> - <p> - "Did youse ever have a cat dat ate bettles?" enquired Mr. Jarvis. - </p> - <p> - "There was a time when many of Comrade Maude's <i>Felidae</i> supported - life almost entirely on beetles." - </p> - <p> - "Did they git thin?" - </p> - <p> - John felt it was time, if he were to preserve his reputation, to assert - himself. - </p> - <p> - "No," he replied firmly. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis looked astonished. - </p> - <p> - "English beetles," said Smith, "don't make cats thin. Passing lightly—" - </p> - <p> - "I had a cat oncst," said Mr. Jarvis, ignoring the remark and sticking to - his point, "dat ate beetles and got thin and used to tie itself inter - knots." - </p> - <p> - "A versatile animal," agreed Smith. - </p> - <p> - "Say," Mr. Jarvis went on, now plainly on a subject near to his heart, - "dem beetles is fierce. Sure! Can't keep de cats off of eatin' dem, I - can't. First t'ing you know dey've swallowed dem, and den dey gits thin - and ties theirselves into knots." - </p> - <p> - "You should put them into strait-waistcoats," said Smith. "Passing, - however, lightly—" - </p> - <p> - "Say, ever have a cross-eyed cat?" - </p> - <p> - "Comrade Maude's cats," said Smith, "have happily been almost entirely - free from strabismus." - </p> - <p> - "Dey's lucky, cross-eyed cats is. You has a cross-eyed cat, and not'in' - don't never go wrong. But, say, was dere ever a cat wit' one blue and one - yaller one in your bunch? Gee! it's fierce when it's like dat. It's a - skidoo, is a cat wit' one blue eye and one yaller one. Puts you in bad, - surest t'ing you know. Oncst a guy give me a cat like dat, and first t'ing - you know I'm in bad all round. It wasn't till I give him away to de cop on - de corner and gets me one dat's cross-eyed dat I lifts de skidoo off of - me." - </p> - <p> - "And what happened to the cop?" enquired Smith, interested. - </p> - <p> - "Oh, he got in bad, sure enough," said Mr. Jarvis without emotion. "One of - de boys what he'd pinched and had sent up the road once lays for him and - puts one over on him wit a black-jack. Sure. Dat's what comes of havin' a - cat wit' one blue and one yaller one." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis relapsed into silence. He seemed to be meditating on the - inscrutable workings of Fate. Smith took advantage of the pause to leave - the cat topic and touch on matters of more vital import. - </p> - <p> - "Tense and exhilarating as is this discussion of the optical peculiarities - of cats," he said, "there is another matter on which, if you will permit - me, I should like to touch. I would hesitate to bore you with my own - private troubles, but this is a matter which concerns Comrade Maude as - well as myself, and I can see that your regard for Comrade Maude is almost - an obsession." - </p> - <p> - "How's that?" - </p> - <p> - "I can see," said Smith, "that Comrade Maude is a man to whom you give the - glad hand." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis regarded John with respectful affection. - </p> - <p> - "Sure! He's to the good, Mr. Maude is." - </p> - <p> - "Exactly," said Smith. "To resume, then. The fact is, Comrade Jarvis, we - are much persecuted by scoundrels. How sad it is in this world! We look to - every side. We look to north, east, south, and west, and what do we see? - Mainly scoundrels. I fancy you have heard a little about our troubles - before this. In fact, I gather that the same scoundrels actually - approached you with a view to engaging your services to do us up, but that - you very handsomely refused the contract. We are the staff of <i>Peaceful - Moments</i>." - </p> - <p> - "<i>Peaceful Moments</i>," said Mr. Jarvis. "Sure, dat's right. A guy - comes to me and says he wants you put through it, but I gives him de - trundown." - </p> - <p> - "So I was informed," said Smith. "Well, failing you, they went to a - gentleman of the name of Reilly—" - </p> - <p> - "Spider Reilly?" - </p> - <p> - "Exactly. Spider Reilly, the lessee and manager of the Three Points gang." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis frowned. - </p> - <p> - "Dose T'ree Points, dey're to de bad. Dey're fresh." - </p> - <p> - "It is too true, Comrade Jarvis." - </p> - <p> - "Say," went on Mr. Jarvis, waxing wrathful at the recollection, "what do - youse t'ink dem fresh stiffs done de odder night? Started some rough woik - in me own dance-joint." - </p> - <p> - "Shamrock Hall?" said Smith. "I heard about it." - </p> - <p> - "Dat's right, Shamrock Hall. Got gay, dey did, wit' some of the Table - Hillers. Say, I got it in for dem gazebos, sure I have. Surest t'ing you - know." - </p> - <p> - Smith beamed approval. - </p> - <p> - "That," he said, "is the right spirit. Nothing could be more admirable. We - are bound together by our common desire to check the ever-growing spirit - of freshness among the members of the Three Points. Add to that the fact - that we are united by a sympathetic knowledge of the manners and customs - of cats, and especially that Comrade Maude, England's greatest fancier, is - our mutual friend, and what more do we want? Nothing." - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Maude's to de good," assented Mr. Jarvis, eying John once more in - friendly fashion. - </p> - <p> - "We are all to the good," said Smith. "Now, the thing I wished to ask you - is this. The office of the paper was, until this morning, securely guarded - by Comrade Brady, whose name will be familiar to you." - </p> - <p> - "De Kid?" - </p> - <p> - "On the bull's-eye, as usual. Kid Brady, the coming light-weight champion - of the world. Well, he has unfortunately been compelled to leave us, and - the way into the office is consequently clear to any sand-bag specialist - who cares to wander in. So what I came to ask was, will you take Comrade - Brady's place for a few days?" - </p> - <p> - "How's that?" - </p> - <p> - "Will you come in and sit in the office for the next day or so and help - hold the fort? I may mention that there is money attached to the job. We - will pay for your services." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis reflected but a brief moment. - </p> - <p> - "Why, sure," he said. "Me fer dat." - </p> - <p> - "Excellent, Comrade Jarvis. Nothing could be better. We will see you - to-morrow, then. I rather fancy that the gay band of Three Pointers who - will undoubtedly visit the offices of <i>Peaceful Moments</i> in the next - few days is scheduled to run up against the surprise of their lives." - </p> - <p> - "Sure t'ing. I'll bring me canister." - </p> - <p> - "Do," said Smith. "In certain circumstances one canister is worth a flood - of rhetoric. Till to-morrow, then, Comrade Jarvis. I am very much obliged - to you." - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - "Not at all a bad hour's work," he said complacently, as they turned out - of Groome Street. "A vote of thanks to you, John, for your invaluable - assistance." - </p> - <p> - "I didn't do much," said John, with a grin. - </p> - <p> - "Apparently, no. In reality, yes. Your manner was exactly right. Reserved, - yet not haughty. Just what an eminent cat-fancier's manner should be. I - could see that you made a pronounced hit with Comrade Jarvis. By the way, - as he is going to show up at the office to-morrow, perhaps it would be as - well if you were to look up a few facts bearing on the feline world. There - is no knowing what thirst for information a night's rest may not give - Comrade Jarvis. I do not presume to dictate, but if you were to make - yourself a thorough master of the subject of catnip, for instance, it - might quite possibly come in useful." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII — THE RETIREMENT OF SMITH - </h2> - <p> - The first member of the staff of <i>Peaceful Moments</i> to arrive at the - office on the following morning was Master Maloney. This sounds like the - beginning of a "Plod and Punctuality," or "How Great Fortunes have been - Made" story, but, as a matter of fact, Master Maloney, like Mr. Bat - Jarvis, was no early bird. Larks who rose in his neighborhood, rose alone. - He did not get up with them. He was supposed to be at the office at nine - o'clock. It was a point of honor with him, a sort of daily declaration of - independence, never to put in an appearance before nine-thirty. On this - particular morning he was punctual to the minute, or half an hour late, - whichever way you choose to look at it. - </p> - <p> - He had only whistled a few bars of "My Little Irish Rose," and had barely - got into the first page of his story of life on the prairie, when Kid - Brady appeared. The Kid had come to pay a farewell visit. He had not yet - begun training, and he was making the best of the short time before such - comforts should be forbidden by smoking a big black cigar. Master Maloney - eyed him admiringly. The Kid, unknown to that gentleman himself, was - Pugsy's ideal. He came from the Plains, and had, indeed, once actually - been a cowboy; he was a coming champion; and he could smoke big black - cigars. There was no trace of his official well-what-is-it-now? air about - Pugsy as he laid down his book and prepared to converse. - </p> - <p> - "Say, Mr. Smith around anywhere, Pugsy?" asked the Kid. - </p> - <p> - "Naw, Mr. Brady. He ain't came yet," replied Master Maloney respectfully. - </p> - <p> - "Late, ain't he?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure! He generally blows in before I do." - </p> - <p> - "Wonder what's keepin' him?" - </p> - <p> - As he spoke, John appeared. "Hello, Kid," he said. "Come to say good-by?" - </p> - <p> - "Yep," said the Kid. "Seen Mr. Smith around anywhere, Mr. Maude?" - </p> - <p> - "Hasn't he come yet? I guess he'll be here soon. Hello, who's this?" - </p> - <p> - A small boy was standing at the door, holding a note. - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Maude?" he said. "Cop at Jefferson Market give me dis fer you." - </p> - <p> - "What!" He took the letter, and gave the boy a dime. "Why, it's from - Smith. Great Scott!" - </p> - <p> - It was apparent that the Kid was politely endeavoring to veil his - curiosity. Master Maloney had no such delicacy. - </p> - <p> - "What's in de letter, boss?" he enquired. - </p> - <p> - "The letter," said John slowly, "is from Mr. Smith. And it says that he - was sentenced this morning to thirty days on the Island for resisting the - police." - </p> - <p> - "He's de guy!" admitted Master Maloney approvingly. - </p> - <p> - "What's that?" said the Kid. "Mr. Smith been slugging cops! What's he been - doin' that for?" - </p> - <p> - "I must go and find out at once. It beats me." - </p> - <p> - It did not take John long to reach Jefferson Market, and by the judicious - expenditure of a few dollars he was enabled to obtain an interview with - Smith in a back room. - </p> - <p> - The editor of <i>Peaceful Moments</i> was seated on a bench, looking - remarkably disheveled. There was a bruise on his forehead, just where the - hair began. He was, however, cheerful. - </p> - <p> - "Ah, John," he said. "You got my note all right, then?" John looked at - him, concerned. - </p> - <p> - "What on earth does it all mean?" - </p> - <p> - Smith heaved a regretful sigh. - </p> - <p> - "I fear," he said, "I have made precisely the blamed fool of myself that - Comrade Parker hoped I would." - </p> - <p> - "Parker!" - </p> - <p> - Smith nodded. - </p> - <p> - "I may be misjudging him, but I seem to see the hand of Comrade Parker in - this. We had a raid at my house last night, John. We were pulled." - </p> - <p> - "What on earth—?" - </p> - <p> - "Somebody—if it was not Comrade Parker it was some other citizen - dripping with public spirit—tipped the police off that certain - sports were running a pool-room in the house where I live." - </p> - <p> - On his departure from the <i>News</i>, Smith, from motives of economy, had - moved from his hotel in Washington Square and taken a furnished room on - Fourteenth Street. - </p> - <p> - "There actually was a pool-room there," he went on, "so possibly I am - wronging Comrade Parker in thinking that this was a scheme of his for - getting me out of the way. At any rate, somebody gave the tip, and at - about three o'clock this morning I was aroused from a dreamless slumber by - quite a considerable hammering at my door. There, standing on the mat, - were two policemen. Very cordially the honest fellows invited me to go - with them. A conveyance, it seemed, waited in the street without. I - disclaimed all connection with the bad gambling persons below, but they - replied that they were cleaning up the house, and, if I wished to make any - remarks, I had better make them to the magistrate. This seemed reasonable. - I said I would put on some clothes and come along. They demurred. They - said they couldn't wait about while I put on clothes. I pointed out that - sky-blue pajamas with old-rose frogs were not the costume in which the - editor of a great New York weekly paper should be seen abroad in one of - the world's greatest cities, but they assured me—more by their - manner than their words—that my misgivings were groundless, so I - yielded. These men, I told myself, have lived longer in New York than I. - They know what is done, and what is not done. I will bow to their views. - So I was starting to go with them like a lamb, when one of them gave me a - shove in the ribs with his night stick. And it was here that I fancy I may - have committed a slight error of policy." - </p> - <p> - He smiled dreamily for a moment, then went on. - </p> - <p> - "I admit that the old Berserk blood of the Smiths boiled at that juncture. - I picked up a sleep-producer from the floor, as Comrade Brady would say, - and handed it to the big-stick merchant. He went down like a sack of coal - over the bookcase, and at that moment I rather fancy the other gentleman - must have got busy with his club. At any rate, somebody suddenly loosed - off some fifty thousand dollars' worth of fireworks, and the next thing I - knew was that the curtain had risen for the next act on me, discovered - sitting in a prison cell, with an out-size in lumps on my forehead." - </p> - <p> - He sighed again. - </p> - <p> - "What <i>Peaceful Moments</i> really needs," he said, "is a <i>sitz-redacteur</i>. - A <i>sitz-redacteur</i>, John, is a gentleman employed by German - newspapers with a taste for <i>lese-majeste</i> to go to prison whenever - required in place of the real editor. The real editor hints in his bright - and snappy editorial, for instance, that the Kaiser's mustache gives him - bad dreams. The police force swoops down in a body on the office of the - journal, and are met by the <i>sitz-redacteur</i>, who goes with them - cheerfully, allowing the editor to remain and sketch out plans for his - next week's article on the Crown Prince. We need a <i>sitz-redacteur</i> - on <i>Peaceful Moments</i> almost as much as a fighting editor. Not now, - of course. This has finished the thing. You'll have to close down the - paper now." - </p> - <p> - "Close it down!" cried John. "You bet I won't." - </p> - <p> - "My dear old son," said Smith seriously, "what earthly reason have you for - going on with it? You only came in to help me, and I am no more. I am gone - like some beautiful flower that withers in the night. Where's the sense of - getting yourself beaten up then? Quit!" - </p> - <p> - John shook his head. - </p> - <p> - "I wouldn't quit now if you paid me." - </p> - <p> - "But—" - </p> - <p> - A policeman appeared at the door. - </p> - <p> - "Say, pal," he remarked to John, "you'll have to be fading away soon, I - guess. Give you three minutes more. Say it quick." - </p> - <p> - He retired. Smith looked at John. - </p> - <p> - "You won't quit?" he said. - </p> - <p> - "No." - </p> - <p> - Smith smiled. - </p> - <p> - "You're an all-wool sport, John," he said. "I don't suppose you know how - to spell quit. Well, then, if you are determined to stand by the ship like - Comrade Casabianca, I'll tell you an idea that came to me in the watches - of the night. If ever you want to get ideas, John, you spend a night in - one of these cells. They flock to you. I suppose I did more profound - thinking last night than I've ever done in my life. Well, here's the idea. - Act on it or not, as you please. I was thinking over the whole business - from soup to nuts, and it struck me that the queerest part of it all is - that whoever owns these Broster Street tenements should care a Canadian - dime whether we find out who he is or not." - </p> - <p> - "Well, there's the publicity," began John. - </p> - <p> - "Tush!" said Smith. "And possibly bah! Do you suppose that the sort of man - who runs Broster Street is likely to care a darn about publicity? What - does it matter to him if the papers soak it to him for about two days? He - knows they'll drop him and go on to something else on the third, and he - knows he's broken no law. No, there's something more in this business than - that. Don't think that this bright boy wants to hush us up simply because - he is a sensitive plant who can't bear to think that people should be - cross with him. He has got some private reason for wanting to lie low." - </p> - <p> - "Well, but what difference—?" - </p> - <p> - "Comrade, I'll tell you. It makes this difference: that the rents are - almost certainly collected by some confidential person belonging to his - own crowd, not by an ordinary collector. In other words, the collector - knows the name of the man he's collecting for. But for this little - misfortune of mine, I was going to suggest that we waylay that collector, - administer the Third Degree, and ask him who his boss is." - </p> - <p> - John uttered an exclamation. - </p> - <p> - "You're right! I'll do it." - </p> - <p> - "You think you can? Alone?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure! Don't you worry. I'll—" - </p> - <p> - The door opened and the policeman reappeared. - </p> - <p> - "Time's up. Slide, sonny." - </p> - <p> - John said good-by to Smith, and went out. He had a last glimpse of his - late editor, a sad smile on his face, telling the policeman what was - apparently a humorous story. Complete good will seemed to exist between - them. John consoled himself as he went away with the reflection that - Smith's was a temperament that would probably find a bright side even to a - thirty-days' visit to Blackwell's Island. - </p> - <p> - He walked thoughtfully back to the office. There was something lonely, and - yet wonderfully exhilarating, in the realization that he was now alone and - in sole charge of the campaign. It braced him. For the first time in - several weeks he felt positively light-hearted. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV — THE CAMPAIGN QUICKENS - </h2> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis was as good as his word. Early in the afternoon he made his - appearance at the office of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, his forelock more - than usually well oiled in honor of the occasion, and his right - coat-pocket bulging in a manner that betrayed to the initiated eye the - presence of his trusty "canister." With him, in addition, he brought a - long, thin young man who wore under his brown tweed coat a blue-and-red - striped sweater. Whether he brought him as an ally in case of need or - merely as a kindred soul with whom he might commune during his vigil, did - not appear. - </p> - <p> - Pugsy, startled out of his wonted calm by the arrival of this - distinguished company, gazed after the pair, as they passed into the inner - office, with protruding eyes. - </p> - <p> - John greeted the allies warmly, and explained Smith's absence. Mr. Jarvis - listened to the story with interest, and introduced his colleague. - </p> - <p> - "T'ought I'd let him chase along. Long Otto's his monaker." - </p> - <p> - "Sure!" said John. "The more the merrier. Take a seat. You'll find cigars - over there. You won't mind my not talking for the moment? There's a wad of - work to clear up." - </p> - <p> - This was an overstatement. He was comparatively free of work, press day - having only just gone by; but he was keenly anxious to avoid conversation - on the subject of cats, of his ignorance of which Mr. Jarvis's appearance - had suddenly reminded him. He took up an old proof sheet and began to - glance through it, frowning thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis regarded the paraphernalia of literature on the table with - interest. So did Long Otto, who, however, being a man of silent habit, - made no comment. Throughout the seance and the events which followed it he - confined himself to an occasional grunt. He seemed to lack other modes of - expression. - </p> - <p> - "Is dis where youse writes up pieces fer de poiper?" enquired Mr. Jarvis. - </p> - <p> - "This is the spot," said John. "On busy mornings you could hear our brains - buzzing in Madison Square Garden. Oh, one moment." - </p> - <p> - He rose and went into the outer office. - </p> - <p> - "Pugsy," he said, "do you know Broster Street?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure." - </p> - <p> - "Could you find out for me exactly when the man comes round collecting the - rents?" - </p> - <p> - "Surest t'ing you know. I knows a kid what knows anodder kid what lives - dere." - </p> - <p> - "Then go and do it now. And, after you've found out, you can take the rest - of the day off." - </p> - <p> - "Me fer dat," said Master Maloney with enthusiasm. "I'll take me goil to - de Bronx Zoo." - </p> - <p> - "Your girl? I didn't know you'd got a girl, Pugsy. I always imagined you - as one of those strong, stern, blood-and-iron men who despised girls. Who - is she?" - </p> - <p> - "Aw, she's a kid," said Pugsy. "Her pa runs a delicatessen shop down our - street. She ain't a bad mutt," added the ardent swain. "I'm her steady." - </p> - <p> - "Well, mind you send me a card for the wedding. And if two dollars would - be a help—" - </p> - <p> - "Sure t'ing. T'anks, boss. You're all right." - </p> - <p> - It had occurred to John that the less time Pugsy spent in the outer office - during the next few days, the better. The lull in the warfare could not - last much longer, and at any moment a visit from Spider Reilly and his - adherents might be expected. Their probable first move in such an event - would be to knock Master Maloney on the head to prevent his giving warning - of their approach. - </p> - <p> - Events proved that he had not been mistaken. He had not been back in the - inner office for more than a quarter of an hour when there came from - without the sound of stealthy movements. The handle of the door began—to - revolve slowly and quietly. The next moment three figures tumbled into the - room. - </p> - <p> - It was evident that they had not expected to find the door unlocked, and - the absence of resistance when they applied their weight had surprising - effects. Two of the three did not pause in their career till they cannoned - against the table. The third checked himself by holding the handle. - </p> - <p> - John got up coolly. - </p> - <p> - "Come right in," he said. "What can we do for you?" It had been too dark - on the other occasion of his meeting with the Three Pointers to take note - of their faces, though he fancied that he had seen the man holding the - door-handle before. The others were strangers. They were all exceedingly - unprepossessing in appearance. - </p> - <p> - There was a pause. The three marauders had become aware of the presence of - Mr. Jarvis and his colleague, and the meeting was causing them - embarrassment, which may have been due in part to the fact that both had - produced and were toying meditatively with ugly-looking pistols. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis spoke. - </p> - <p> - "Well," he said, "what's doin'?" - </p> - <p> - The man to whom the question was directly addressed appeared to have some - difficulty in finding a reply. He shuffled his feet, and looked at the - floor. His two companions seemed equally at a loss. - </p> - <p> - "Goin' to start anything?" enquired Mr. Jarvis, casually. - </p> - <p> - The humor of the situation suddenly tickled John. The embarrassment of the - uninvited guests was ludicrous. - </p> - <p> - "You've just dropped in for a quiet chat, is that it?" he said. "Well, - we're all delighted to see you. The cigars are on the table. Draw up your - chairs." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis opposed the motion. He drew slow circles in the air with his - revolver. - </p> - <p> - "Say! Youse had best beat it. See?" - </p> - <p> - Long Otto grunted sympathy with the advice. - </p> - <p> - "And youse had best go back to Spider Reilly," continued Mr. Jarvis, "and - tell him there ain't nothin' doing in the way of rough-house wit' dis gent - here. And you can tell de Spider," went on Bat with growing ferocity, "dat - next time he gits fresh and starts in to shootin' up my dance-joint, I'll - bite de head off'n him. See? Dat goes. If he t'inks his little two-by-four - crowd can git way wit' de Groome Street, he's got anodder guess comin'. - An' don't fergit dis gent here and me is friends, and anyone dat starts - anyt'ing wit' dis gent is going to find trouble. Does dat go? Beat it." - </p> - <p> - He jerked his shoulder in the direction of the door. - </p> - <p> - The delegation then withdrew. - </p> - <p> - "Thanks," said John. "I'm much obliged to you both. You're certainly there - with the goods as fighting editors. I don't know what I should have done - without you." - </p> - <p> - "Aw, Chee!" said Mr. Jarvis, handsomely dismissing the matter. Long Otto - kicked the leg of a table, and grunted. - </p> - <p> - Pugsy Maloney's report on the following morning was entirely satisfactory. - Rents were collected in Broster Street on Thursdays. Nothing could have - been more convenient, for that very day happened to be Thursday. - </p> - <p> - "I rubbered around," said Pugsy, "an' done de sleut' act, an' it's this - way. Dere's a feller blows in every T'ursday 'bout six o'clock, an' den - it's up to de folks to dig down inter deir jeans for de stuff, or out dey - goes before supper. I got dat from my kid frien' what knows a kid what - lives dere. An' say, he has it pretty fierce, dat kid. De kid what lives - dere. He's a wop kid, an Italian, an' he's in bad 'cos his pa comes over - from Italy to woik on de subway." - </p> - <p> - "I don't see why that puts him in bad," said John wonderingly. "You don't - construct your stories well, Pugsy. You start at the end, then go back to - any part which happens to appeal to you at the moment, and eventually wind - up at the beginning. Why is this kid in bad because his father has come to - work on the subway?" - </p> - <p> - "Why, sure, because his pa got fired an' swatted de foreman one on de - coco, an' dey gives him t'oity days. So de kid's all alone, an' no one to - pay de rent." - </p> - <p> - "I see," said John. "Well, come along with me and introduce me, and I'll - look after that." - </p> - <p> - At half-past five John closed the office for the day, and, armed with a - big stick and conducted by Master Maloney, made his way to Broster Street. - To reach it, it was necessary to pass through a section of the enemy's - country, but the perilous passage was safely negotiated. The expedition - reached its unsavory goal intact. - </p> - <p> - The wop kid inhabited a small room at the very top of a building half-way - down the street. He was out when John and Pugsy arrived. - </p> - <p> - It was not an abode of luxury, the tenement; they had to feel their way up - the stairs in almost pitch darkness. Most of the doors were shut, but one - on the second floor was ajar. Through the opening John had a glimpse of a - number of women sitting on up-turned boxes. The floor was covered with - little heaps of linen. All the women were sewing. Stumbling in the - darkness, John almost fell against the door. None of the women looked up - at the noise. In Broster Street time was evidently money. - </p> - <p> - On the top floor Pugsy halted before the open door of an empty room. The - architect in this case had apparently given rein to a passion for - originality, for he had constructed the apartment without a window of any - sort whatsoever. The entire stock of air used by the occupants came - through a small opening over the door. - </p> - <p> - It was a warm day, and John recoiled hastily. - </p> - <p> - "Is this the kid's room?" he said. "I guess the corridor's good enough for - me to wait in. What the owner of this place wants," he went on - reflectively, "is scalping. Well, we'll do it in the paper if we can't in - any other way. Is this your kid?" - </p> - <p> - A small boy had appeared. He seemed surprised to see visitors. Pugsy - undertook to do the honors. Pugsy, as interpreter, was energetic, but not - wholly successful. He appeared to have a fixed idea that the Italian - language was one easily mastered by the simple method of saying "da" - instead of "the," and adding a final "a" to any word that seemed to him to - need one. - </p> - <p> - "Say, kid," he began, "has da rent-a-man come yet-a?" - </p> - <p> - The black eyes of the wop kid clouded. He gesticulated, and said something - in his native language. - </p> - <p> - "He hasn't got next," reported Master Maloney. "He can't git on to me - curves. Dese wop kids is all bone-heads. Say, kid, look-a here." He walked - to the door, rapped on it smartly, and, assuming a look of extreme - ferocity, stretched out his hand and thundered: "Unbelt-a! Slip-a me da - stuff!" - </p> - <p> - The wop kid's puzzlement in the face of this address became pathetic. - </p> - <p> - "This," said John, deeply interested, "is getting exciting. Don't give in, - Pugsy. I guess the trouble is that your too perfect Italian accent is - making the kid homesick." - </p> - <p> - Master Maloney made a gesture of disgust. - </p> - <p> - "I'm t'roo. Dese Dagoes makes me tired. Dey don't know enough to go - upstairs to take de elevated. Beat it, you mutt," he observed with moody - displeasure, accompanying the words with a gesture which conveyed its own - meaning. The wop kid, plainly glad to get away, slipped down the stairs - like a shadow. - </p> - <p> - Pugsy shrugged his shoulders. - </p> - <p> - "Boss," he said resignedly, "it's up to youse." - </p> - <p> - John reflected. - </p> - <p> - "It's all right," he said. "Of course, if the collector had been here, the - kid wouldn't be. All I've got to do is to wait." - </p> - <p> - He peered over the banisters into the darkness below. - </p> - <p> - "Not that it's not enough," he said; "for of all the poisonous places I - ever met this is the worst. I wish whoever built it had thought to put in - a few windows. His idea of ventilation was apparently to leave a hole - about the size of a lima bean and let the thing go at that." - </p> - <p> - "I guess there's a door on to de roof somewhere," suggested Pugsy. "At de - joint where I lives dere is." - </p> - <p> - His surmise proved correct. At the end of the passage a ladder, nailed - against the wall, ended in a large square opening, through which was - visible, if not "that narrow strip of blue which prisoners call the sky," - at any rate a tall brick chimney and a clothesline covered with garments - that waved lazily in the breeze. - </p> - <p> - John stood beneath it, looking up. - </p> - <p> - "Well," he said, "this isn't much, but it's better than nothing. I suppose - the architect of this place was one of those fellows who don't begin to - appreciate air till it's thick enough to scoop chunks out with a spoon. - It's an acquired taste, I guess, like Limburger cheese. And now, Pugsy, - old scout, you had better beat it. There may be a rough-house here any - minute now." - </p> - <p> - Pugsy looked up, indignant. - </p> - <p> - "Beat it?" - </p> - <p> - "While your shoe-leather's good," said John firmly. "This is no place for - a minister's son. Take it from me." - </p> - <p> - "I want to stop and pipe de fun," objected Master Maloney. - </p> - <p> - "What fun?" - </p> - <p> - "I guess you ain't here to play ball," surmised Pugsy shrewdly, eying the - big stick. - </p> - <p> - "Never mind why I'm here," said John. "Beat it. I'll tell you all about it - to-morrow." - </p> - <p> - Master Maloney prepared reluctantly to depart. As he did so there was a - sound of well-shod feet on the stairs, and a man in a snuff-colored suit, - wearing a brown Homburg hat and carrying a small notebook in one hand, - walked briskly up the stairs. His whole appearance proclaimed him to be - the long-expected collector of rents. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXV — CORNERED - </h2> - <p> - He did not see John for a moment, and had reached the door of the room - when he became aware of a presence. He turned in surprise. He was a - smallish, pale-faced man with protruding eyes and teeth which gave him a - certain resemblance to a rabbit. - </p> - <p> - "Hello!" he said. - </p> - <p> - "Welcome to our city," said John, stepping unostentatiously between him - and the stairs. - </p> - <p> - Master Maloney, who had taken advantage of the interruption to edge back - into the center of things, now appeared to consider the question of his - departure permanently shelved. He sidled to a corner of the landing, and - sat down on an empty soap box with the air of a dramatic critic at the - opening night of a new play. The scene looked good to him. It promised - interesting developments. He was an earnest student of the drama, as - exhibited in the theaters of the East Side, and few had ever applauded the - hero of "Escaped from Sing Sing," or hissed the villain of "Nellie, the - Beautiful Cloak-model" with more fervor. He liked his drama to have plenty - of action, and to his practised eye this one promised well. There was a - set expression on John's face which suggested great things. - </p> - <p> - His pleasure was abruptly quenched. John, placing a firm hand on his - collar, led him to the top of the stairs and pushed him down. - </p> - <p> - "Beat it," he said. - </p> - <p> - The rent-collector watched these things with a puzzled eye. He now turned - to John. - </p> - <p> - "Say, seen anything of the wops that live here?" he enquired. "My name's - Gooch. I've come to take the rent." - </p> - <p> - John nodded. - </p> - <p> - "I don't think there's much chance of your seeing them to-night," he said. - "The father, I hear, is in prison. You won't get any rent out of him." - </p> - <p> - "Then it's outside for theirs," said Mr. Gooch definitely. - </p> - <p> - "What about the kid?" said John. "Where's he to go?" - </p> - <p> - "That's up to him. Nothing to do with me. I'm only acting under orders - from up top." - </p> - <p> - "Whose orders?" enquired John. - </p> - <p> - "The gent who owns this joint." - </p> - <p> - "Who is he?" - </p> - <p> - Suspicion crept into the protruding eyes of the rent-collector. - </p> - <p> - "Say!" he demanded. "Who are you anyway, and what do you think you're - doing here? That's what I'd like to know. What do you want with the name - of the owner of this place? What business is it of yours?" - </p> - <p> - "I'm a newspaper man." - </p> - <p> - "I guessed you were," said Mr. Gooch with triumph. "You can't bluff me. - Well, it's no good, sonny. I've nothing for you. You'd better chase off - and try something else." - </p> - <p> - He became more friendly. - </p> - <p> - "Say, though," he said, "I just guessed you were from some paper. I wish I - could give you a story, but I can't. I guess it's this <i>Peaceful Moments</i> - business that's been and put your editor on to this joint, ain't it? Say, - though, that's a queer thing, that paper. Why, only a few weeks ago it - used to be a sort of take-home-and-read-to-the-kids affair. A friend of - mine used to buy it regular. And then suddenly it comes out with a regular - whoop, and starts knocking these tenements and boosting Kid Brady, and all - that. It gets past me. All I know is that it's begun to get this place - talked about. Why, you see for yourself how it is. Here is your editor - sending you down to get a story about it. But, say, those <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> guys are taking big risks. I tell you straight they are, and I - know. I happen to be wise to a thing or two about what's going on on the - other side, and I tell you there's going to be something doing if they - don't cut it out quick. Mr. Qem, the fellow who owns this place isn't the - man to sit still and smile. He's going to get busy. Say, what paper do you - come from?" - </p> - <p> - "<i>Peaceful Moments</i>," said John. - </p> - <p> - For a moment the inwardness of the information did not seem to come home - to Mr. Gooch. Then it hit him. He spun round. John was standing squarely - between him and the stairs. - </p> - <p> - "Hey, what's all this?" demanded Mr. Gooch nervously. The light was dim in - the passage, but it was sufficiently light to enable him to see John's - face, and it did not reassure him. - </p> - <p> - "I'll soon tell you," said John. "First, however, let's get this business - of the kid's rent settled. Take it out of this and give me the receipt." - </p> - <p> - He pulled out a bill. - </p> - <p> - "Curse his rent," said Mr. Gooch. "Let me pass." - </p> - <p> - "Soon," said John. "Business before pleasure. How much does the kid have - to pay for the privilege of suffocating in this infernal place? As much as - that? Well, give me a receipt, and then we can get on to more important - things." - </p> - <p> - "Let me pass." - </p> - <p> - "Receipt," said John laconically. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Gooch looked at the big stick, then scribbled a few words in his - notebook and tore out the page. John thanked him. - </p> - <p> - "I will see that it reaches him," he said. "And now will you kindly tell - me the name of the man for whom you collected that money?" - </p> - <p> - "Let me pass," bellowed Mr. Gooch. "I'll bring an action against you for - assault and battery. Playing a fool game like this! Get away from those - stairs." - </p> - <p> - "There has been no assault and battery—yet," said John. "Well, are - you going to tell me?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Gooch shuffled restlessly. John leaned against the banisters. - </p> - <p> - "As you said a moment ago," he observed, "the staff of <i>Peaceful Moments</i> - is taking big risks. I knew it before you told me. I have had practical - demonstration of the fact. And that is why this Broster Street thing has - got to be finished quick. We can't afford to wait. So I am going to have - you tell me this man's name right now." - </p> - <p> - "Help!" yelled Mr. Gooch. - </p> - <p> - The noise died away, echoing against the walls. No answering cry came from - below. Custom had staled the piquancy of such cries in Broster Street. If - anybody heard it, nobody thought the matter worth investigation. - </p> - <p> - "If you do that again," said John, "I'll break you in half. Now then! I - can't wait much longer. Get busy!" - </p> - <p> - He looked huge and sinister to Mr. Gooch, standing there in the uncertain - light; it was very lonely on that top floor and the rest of the world - seemed infinitely far away. Mr. Gooch wavered. He was loyal to his - employer, but he was still more loyal to Mr. Gooch. - </p> - <p> - "Well?" said John. - </p> - <p> - There was a clatter on the stairs of one running swiftly, and Pugsy - Maloney burst into view. For the first time since John had known him, - Pugsy was openly excited. - </p> - <p> - "Say, boss," he cried, "dey's coming!" - </p> - <p> - "What? Who?" - </p> - <p> - "Why, dem. I seen dem T'ree Pointers—Spider Reilly an'—" - </p> - <p> - He broke off with a yelp of surprise. Mr. Gooch had seized his - opportunity, and had made his dash for safety. With a rush he dived past - John, nearly upsetting Pugsy, who stood in his path, and sprang down the - stairs. Once he tripped, but recovered himself, and in another instant - only the faint sound of his hurrying footsteps reached them. - </p> - <p> - John had made a movement as if to follow, but the full meaning of Pugsy's - words came upon him and he stopped. - </p> - <p> - "Spider Reilly?" he said. - </p> - <p> - "I guess it was Spider Reilly," said Pugsy, excitedly. "Dey called him - Spider. I guess dey piped youse comin' in here. Gee! it's pretty fierce, - boss, dis! What youse goin' to do?" - </p> - <p> - "Where did you see them, Pugsy?" - </p> - <p> - "On the street just outside. Dere was a bunch of dem spielin' togedder, - and I hears dem say you was in here. Dere ain't no ways out but de front, - so dey ain't hurryin'. Dey just reckon to pike along upstairs, peekin' - inter each room till dey find you. An' dere's a bunch of dem goin' to wait - on de street in case youse beat it past down de stairs while de odder guys - is rubberin' for youse. Gee, ain't dis de limit!" - </p> - <p> - John stood thinking. His mind was working rapidly. Suddenly he smiled. - </p> - <p> - "It's all right, Pugsy," he said. "It looks bad, but I see a way out. I'm - going up that ladder there and through the trapdoor on to the roof. I - shall be all right there. If they find me, they can only get at me one at - a time. And, while I'm there, here's what I want you to do." - </p> - <p> - "Shall I go for de cops, boss?" - </p> - <p> - "No, not the cops. Do you know where Dude Dawson lives?" - </p> - <p> - The light of intelligence began to shine in Master Maloney's face. His eye - glistened with approval. This was strategy of the right sort. - </p> - <p> - "I can ask around," he said. "I'll soon find him all right." - </p> - <p> - "Do, and as quick as you can. And when you've found him tell him that his - old chum, Spider Reilly, is here, with the rest of his crowd. And now I'd - better be getting up on to my perch. Off you go, Pugsy, my son, and don't - take a week about it. Good-by." - </p> - <p> - Pugsy vanished, and John, going to the ladder, climbed out on to the roof - with his big stick. He looked about him. The examination was satisfactory. - The trapdoor appeared to be the only means of access to the roof, and - between this roof and that of the next building there was a broad gulf. - The position was practically impregnable. Only one thing could undo him, - and that was, if the enemy should mount to the next roof and shoot from - there. And even then he would have cover in the shape of the chimney. It - was a pity that the trap opened downward, for he had no means of securing - it and was obliged to allow it to hang open. But, except for that, his - position could hardly have been stronger. - </p> - <p> - As yet there was no sound of the enemy's approach. Evidently, as Pugsy had - said, they were conducting the search, room by room, in a thorough and - leisurely way. He listened with his ear close to the open trapdoor, but - could hear nothing. - </p> - <p> - A startled exclamation directly behind him brought him to his feet in a - flash, every muscle tense. He whirled his stick above his head as he - turned, ready to strike, then let it fall with a clatter. For there, a - bare yard away, stood Betty. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVI — JOURNEY'S END - </h2> - <p> - The capacity of the human brain for surprise, like that of the human body - for pain, is limited. For a single instant a sense of utter unreality - struck John like a physical blow. The world flickered before his eyes and - the air seemed full of strange noises. Then, quite suddenly, these things - passed, and he found himself looking at her with a total absence of - astonishment, mildly amused in some remote corner of his brain at his own - calm. It was absurd, he told himself, that he should be feeling as if he - had known of her presence there all the time. Yet it was so. If this were - a dream, he could not be taking the miracle more as a matter of course. - Joy at the sight of her he felt, keen and almost painful, but no surprise. - The shock had stunned his sense of wonder. - </p> - <p> - She was wearing a calico apron over her dress, an apron that had evidently - been designed for a large woman. Swathed in its folds, she suggested a - child playing at being grown up. Her sleeves were rolled back to the - elbow, and her slim arms dripped with water. Strands of brown hair were - blowing loose in the evening breeze. To John she had never seemed so - bewitchingly pretty. He stared at her till the pallor of her face gave way - to a warm red glow. - </p> - <p> - As they stood there, speechless, there came from the other side of the - chimney, softly at first, then swelling, the sound of a child's voice, - raised in a tentative wail. Betty started violently. The next moment she - was gone, and from the unseen parts beyond the chimney came the noise of - splashing water. - </p> - <p> - And at the same instant, through the trap, came a trampling of feet and - the sound of whispering. The enemy had reached the top floor. - </p> - <p> - John was conscious of a remarkable exhilaration. He felt insanely - light-hearted. He laughed aloud at the thought that until then he had - completely forgotten the very existence of these earnest seekers after his - downfall. He threw back his head and shouted. There was something so - ridiculous in their assumption that they mattered to a man who had found - Betty again. - </p> - <p> - He thrust his head down through the trap, to see what was going on. The - dark passage was full of indistinct forms, gathered together in puzzled - groups. The mystery of the vanished object of their pursuit was being - discussed in hoarse whispers. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly there was an excited shout, then a rush of feet. John drew back - his head, and waited, gripping his stick. - </p> - <p> - Voices called to each other in the passage below. - </p> - <p> - "De roof!" - </p> - <p> - "On top de roof!" - </p> - <p> - "He's beaten it for de roof!" - </p> - <p> - Feet shuffled on the stone floor. The voices ceased abruptly. And then, - like a jack-in-the-box, there popped through the trap a head and - shoulders. - </p> - <p> - The new arrival was a young man with a shock of red hair, a broken nose, - and a mouth from which force or the passage of time had removed three - front teeth. He held on to the edge of the trap, and stared up at John. - </p> - <p> - John beamed down at him, and shifted his grip on the stick. - </p> - <p> - "Who's here?" he cried. "Historic picture. 'Old Dr. Cook discovers the - North Pole.'" - </p> - <p> - The red-headed young man blinked. The strong light of the open air was - trying to his eyes. - </p> - <p> - "Youse had best come down," he observed coldly. "We've got youse." - </p> - <p> - "And," continued John, unmoved, "is instantly handed a gum-drop by his - faithful Eskimo." - </p> - <p> - As he spoke, he brought the stick down on the knuckles which disfigured - the edges of the trap. The intruder uttered a howl and dropped out of - sight. In the passage below there were whisperings and mutterings, growing - gradually louder till something resembling coherent conversation came to - John's ears, as he knelt by the trap making meditative billiard shots with - the stick at a small pebble. - </p> - <p> - "Aw g'wan! Don't be a quitter." - </p> - <p> - "Who's a quitter?" - </p> - <p> - "Youse a quitter. Get on top de roof. He can't hoit youse." - </p> - <p> - "De guy's gotten a big stick." - </p> - <p> - John nodded appreciatively. - </p> - <p> - "I and Theodore," he murmured. - </p> - <p> - A somewhat baffled silence on the part of the attacking force was followed - by further conversation. - </p> - <p> - "Gee! Some guy's got to go up." - </p> - <p> - Murmur of assent from the audience. - </p> - <p> - A voice, in inspired tones: "Let Sam do it." - </p> - <p> - The suggestion made a hit. There was no doubt about that. It was a success - from the start. Quite a little chorus of voices expressed sincere approval - of the very happy solution to what had seemed an insoluble problem. John, - listening from above, failed to detect in the choir of glad voices one - that might belong to Sam himself. Probably gratification had rendered the - chosen one dumb. - </p> - <p> - "Yes, let Sam do it," cried the unseen chorus. The first speaker, - unnecessarily, perhaps—for the motion had been carried almost - unanimously—but possibly with the idea of convincing the one member - of the party in whose bosom doubts might conceivably be harbored, went on - to adduce reasons. - </p> - <p> - "Sam bein' a coon," he argued, "ain't goin' to git hoit by no stick. Youse - can't hoit a coon by soakin' him on de coco, can you, Sam?" - </p> - <p> - John waited with some interest for the reply, but it did not come. - Possibly Sam did not wish to generalize on insufficient experience. - </p> - <p> - "We can but try," said John softly, turning the stick round in his - fingers. - </p> - <p> - A report like a cannon sounded in the passage below. It was merely a - revolver shot, but in the confined space it was deafening. The bullet sang - up into the sky. - </p> - <p> - "Never hit me," said John cheerfully. - </p> - <p> - The noise was succeeded by a shuffling of feet. John grasped his stick - more firmly. This was evidently the real attack. The revolver shot had - been a mere demonstration of artillery to cover the infantry's advance. - </p> - <p> - Sure enough, the next moment a woolly head popped through the opening, and - a pair of rolling eyes gleamed up at him. - </p> - <p> - "Why, Sam!" he said cordially, "this is great. Now for our interesting - experiment. My idea is that you <i>can</i> hurt a coon's head with a stick - if you hit it hard enough. Keep quite still. Now. What, are you coming up? - Sam, I hate to do it, but—" - </p> - <p> - A yell rang out. John's theory had been tested and proved correct. - </p> - <p> - By this time the affair had begun to attract spectators. The noise of the - revolver had proved a fine advertisement. The roof of the house next door - began to fill up. Only a few of the occupants could get a clear view of - the proceedings, for the chimney intervened. There was considerable - speculation as to what was passing in the Three Points camp. John was the - popular favorite. The early comers had seen his interview with Sam, and - were relating it with gusto to their friends. Their attitude toward John - was that of a group of men watching a dog at a rat hole. They looked to - him to provide entertainment for them, but they realized that the first - move must be with the attackers. They were fair-minded men, and they did - not expect John to make any aggressive move. - </p> - <p> - Their indignation, when the proceedings began to grow slow, was directed - entirely at the dilatory Three Pointers. They hooted the Three Pointers. - They urged them to go home and tuck themselves up in bed. The spectators - were mostly Irishmen, and it offended them to see what should have been a - spirited fight so grossly bungled. - </p> - <p> - "G'wan away home, ye quitters!" roared one. - </p> - <p> - A second member of the audience alluded to them as "stiffs." - </p> - <p> - It was evident that the besieging army was beginning to grow a little - unpopular. More action was needed if they were to retain the esteem of - Broster Street. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly there came another and a longer explosion from below, and more - bullets wasted themselves on air. John sighed. - </p> - <p> - "You make me tired," he said. - </p> - <p> - The Irish neighbors expressed the same sentiment in different and more - forcible words. There was no doubt about it—as warriors, the Three - Pointers were failing to give satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - A voice from the passage called to John. - </p> - <p> - "Say!" - </p> - <p> - "Well?" said John. - </p> - <p> - "Are youse comin' down off out of dat roof?" - </p> - <p> - "Would you mind repeating that remark?" - </p> - <p> - "Are youse goin' to quit off out of dat roof?" - </p> - <p> - "Go away and learn some grammar," said John severely. - </p> - <p> - "Hey!" - </p> - <p> - "Well?" - </p> - <p> - "Are youse—?" - </p> - <p> - "No, my son," said John, "since you ask it, I am not. I like being up - here. How is Sam?" - </p> - <p> - There was silence below. The time began to pass slowly. The Irishmen on - the other roof, now definitely abandoning hope of further entertainment, - proceeded with hoots of derision to climb down one by one into the - recesses of their own house. - </p> - <p> - And then from the street far below there came a fusillade of shots and a - babel of shouts and counter-shouts. The roof of the house next door filled - again with a magical swiftness, and the low wall facing the street became - black with the backs of those craning over. There appeared to be great - doings in the street. - </p> - <p> - John smiled comfortably. - </p> - <p> - In the army of the corridor confusion had arisen. A scout, clattering - upstairs, had brought the news of the Table Hillites' advent, and there - was doubt as to the proper course to pursue. Certain voices urged going - down to help the main body. Others pointed out that this would mean - abandoning the siege of the roof. The scout who had brought the news was - eloquent in favor of the first course. - </p> - <p> - "Gee!" he cried, "don't I keep tellin' youse dat de Table Hills is here? - Sure, dere's a whole bunch of dem, and unless youse come on down dey'll - bite de hull head off of us lot. Leave dat stiff on de roof. Let Sam wait - here wit' his canister, and den he can't get down, 'cos Sam'll pump him - full of lead while he's beatin' it t'roo de trapdoor. Sure!" - </p> - <p> - John nodded reflectively. - </p> - <p> - "There is certainly something in that," he murmured. "I guess the grand - rescue scene in the third act has sprung a leak. This will want thinking - over." - </p> - <p> - In the street the disturbance had now become terrible. Both sides were - hard at it, and the Irishmen on the roof, rewarded at last for their long - vigil, were yelling encouragement promiscuously and whooping with the - unfettered ecstasy of men who are getting the treat of their lives without - having paid a penny for it. - </p> - <p> - The behavior of the New York policeman in affairs of this kind is based on - principles of the soundest practical wisdom. The unthinking man would rush - in and attempt to crush the combat in its earliest and fiercest stages. - The New York policeman, knowing the importance of his safety, and the - insignificance of the gangsman's, permits the opposing forces to hammer - each other into a certain distaste for battle, and then, when both sides - have begun to have enough of it, rushes in himself and clubs everything in - sight. It is an admirable process in its results, but it is sure rather - than swift. - </p> - <p> - Proceedings in the affair below had not yet reached the - police-interference stage. The noise, what with the shots and yells from - the street and the ear-piercing approval of the roof audience, was just - working up to a climax. - </p> - <p> - John rose. He was tired of kneeling by the trap, and there was no - likelihood of Sam making another attempt to climb through. He got up and - stretched himself. - </p> - <p> - And then he saw that Betty was standing beside him, holding with each hand - a small and—by Broster Street standards—uncannily clean child. - The children were scared and whimpering, and she stooped to soothe them. - Then she turned to John, her eyes wide with anxiety. - </p> - <p> - "Are you hurt?" she cried. "What has been happening? Are you hurt?" - </p> - <p> - John's heart leaped at the anxious break in her voice. - </p> - <p> - "It's all right," he said soothingly. "It's absolutely all right. - Everything's over." - </p> - <p> - As if to give him the lie, the noise in the street swelled to a crescendo - of yells and shots. - </p> - <p> - "What's that?" cried Betty, starting. - </p> - <p> - "I fancy," said John, "the police must be taking a hand. It's all right. - There's a little trouble down below there between two of the gangs. It - won't last long now." - </p> - <p> - "Who were those men?" - </p> - <p> - "My friends in the passage?" he said lightly. "Those were some of the - Three Points gang. We were holding the concluding exercise of a rather - lively campaign that's been—" - </p> - <p> - Betty leaned weakly against the chimney. There was silence now in the - street. Only the distant rumble of an elevated train broke the stillness. - She drew her hands from the children's grasp, and covered her face. As she - lowered them again, John saw that the blood had left her cheeks. She was - white and shaking. He moved forward impulsively. - </p> - <p> - "Betty!" - </p> - <p> - She tottered, reaching blindly for the chimney for support, and without - further words he gathered her into his arms as if she had been the child - she looked, and held her there, clutching her to him fiercely, kissing the - brown hair that brushed against his face, and soothing her with vague - murmurings. - </p> - <p> - Her breath came in broken gasps. She laughed hysterically. - </p> - <p> - "I thought they were killing you—killing you—and I couldn't - leave my babies—they were so frightened, poor little mites—I - thought they were killing you." - </p> - <p> - "Betty!" - </p> - <p> - Her arms about his neck tightened their grip convulsively, forcing his - head down until his face rested against hers. And so they stood, rigid, - while the two children stared with round eyes and whimpered unheeded. - </p> - <p> - Her grip relaxed. Her hands dropped slowly to her side. She leaned back - against the circle of his arms, and looked up at him—a strange look, - full of a sweet humility. - </p> - <p> - "I thought I was strong," she said quietly. "I'm weak—but I don't - care." - </p> - <p> - He looked at her with glowing eyes, not understanding, but content that - the journey was ended, that she was there, in his arms, speaking to him. - </p> - <p> - "I always loved you, dear," she went on. "You knew that, didn't you? But I - thought I was strong enough to give you up for—for a principle—but - I was wrong. I can't do without you—I knew it just now when I saw—" - She stopped, and shuddered. "I can't do without you," she repented. - </p> - <p> - She felt the muscles of his arms quiver, and pressed more closely against - them. They were strong arms, protecting arms, restful to lean against at - the journey's end. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVII — A LEMON - </h2> - <p> - That bulwark of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, Pugsy Maloney, was rather the man - of action than the man of tact. Otherwise, when, a moment later, he thrust - his head up through the trap, he would have withdrawn delicately, and not - split the silence with a raucous "Hey!" which acted on John and Betty like - an electric shock. - </p> - <p> - John glowered at him. Betty was pink, but composed. Pugsy climbed - leisurely on to the roof, and surveyed the group. - </p> - <p> - "Why, hello!" he said, as he saw Betty more closely. - </p> - <p> - "Well, Pugsy," said Betty. "How are you?" - </p> - <p> - John turned in surprise. - </p> - <p> - "Do you know Pugsy?" - </p> - <p> - Betty looked at him, puzzled. - </p> - <p> - "Why, of course I do." - </p> - <p> - "Sure," said Pugsy. "Miss Brown was stenographer on de poiper till she - beat it." - </p> - <p> - "Miss Brown!" - </p> - <p> - There was utter bewilderment in John's face. - </p> - <p> - "I changed my name when I went to <i>Peaceful Moments</i>." - </p> - <p> - "Then are you—did you—?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes, I wrote those articles. That's how I happen to be here now. I come - down every day and help look after the babies. Poor little souls, there - seems to be nobody else here who has time to do it. It's dreadful. Some of - them—you wouldn't believe—I don't think they could ever have - had a real bath in their lives." - </p> - <p> - "Baths is foolishness," commented Master Maloney austerely, eying the - scoured infants with a touch of disfavor. - </p> - <p> - John was reminded of a second mystery that needed solution. - </p> - <p> - "How on earth did you get up here, Pugsy?" he asked. "How did you get past - Sam?" - </p> - <p> - "Sam? I didn't see no Sam. Who's Sam?" - </p> - <p> - "One of those fellows. A coon. They left him on guard with a gun, so that - I shouldn't get down." - </p> - <p> - "Ah, I met a coon beating it down de stairs. I guess dat was him. I guess - he got cold feet." - </p> - <p> - "Then there's nothing to stop us from getting down." - </p> - <p> - "Nope. Dat's right. Dere ain't a T'ree Pointer wit'in a mile. De cops have - been loadin' dem into de patrol-wagon by de dozen." - </p> - <p> - John turned to Betty. - </p> - <p> - "We'll go and have dinner somewhere. You haven't begun to explain things - yet." - </p> - <p> - Betty shook her head with a smile. - </p> - <p> - "I haven't got time to go out to dinners," she said. "I'm a working-girl. - I'm cashier at Fontelli's Italian Restaurant. I shall be on duty in - another half-hour." - </p> - <p> - John was aghast. - </p> - <p> - "You!" - </p> - <p> - "It's a very good situation," said Betty demurely. "Six dollars a week and - what I steal. I haven't stolen anything yet, and I think Mr. Jarvis is a - little disappointed in me. But of course I haven't settled down properly." - </p> - <p> - "Jarvis? Bat Jarvis?" - </p> - <p> - "Yes. He has been very good to me. He got me this place, and has looked - after me all the time." - </p> - <p> - "I'll buy him a thousand cats," said John fervently. "But, Betty, you - mustn't go there any more. You must quit. You—" - </p> - <p> - "If <i>Peaceful Moments</i> would reengage me?" said Betty. - </p> - <p> - She spoke lightly, but her face was serious. - </p> - <p> - "Dear," she said quickly, "I can't be away from you now, while there's - danger. I couldn't bear it. Will you let me come?" - </p> - <p> - He hesitated. - </p> - <p> - "You will. You must." Her manner changed again. "That's settled, then. - Pugsy, I'm coming back to the paper. Are you glad?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure t'ing," said Pugsy. "You're to de good." - </p> - <p> - "And now," she went on, "I must give these babies back to their mothers, - and then I'll come with you." - </p> - <p> - She lowered herself through the trap, and John handed the children down to - her. Pugsy looked on, smoking a thoughtful cigarette. - </p> - <p> - John drew a deep breath. Pugsy, removing the cigarette from his mouth, - delivered himself of a stately word of praise. - </p> - <p> - "She's a boid," he said. - </p> - <p> - "Pugsy," said John, feeling in his pocket, and producing a roll of bills, - "a dollar a word is our rate for contributions like that." - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - John pushed back his chair slightly, stretched out his legs, and lighted a - cigarette, watching Betty fondly through the smoke. The resources of the - Knickerbocker Hotel had proved equal to supplying the staff of <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> with an excellent dinner, and John had stoutly declined to - give or listen to any explanations until the coffee arrived. - </p> - <p> - "Thousands of promising careers," he said, "have been ruined by the fatal - practise of talking seriously at dinner. But now we might begin." - </p> - <p> - Betty looked at him across the table with shining eyes. It was good to be - together again. - </p> - <p> - "My explanations won't take long," she said. "I ran away from you. And, - when you found me, I ran away again." - </p> - <p> - "But I didn't find you," objected John. "That was my trouble." - </p> - <p> - "But my aunt told you I was at <i>Peaceful Moments</i>!" - </p> - <p> - "On the contrary, I didn't even know you had an aunt." - </p> - <p> - "Well, she's not exactly that. She's my stepfather's aunt—Mrs. - Oakley. I was certain you had gone straight to her, and that she had told - you where I was." - </p> - <p> - "The Mrs. Oakley? The—er—philanthropist?" - </p> - <p> - "Don't laugh at her," said Betty quickly. "She was so good to me!" - </p> - <p> - "She passes," said John decidedly. - </p> - <p> - "And now," said Betty, "it's your turn." - </p> - <p> - John lighted another cigarette. - </p> - <p> - "My story," he said, "is rather longer. When they threw me out of Mervo—" - </p> - <p> - "What!" - </p> - <p> - "I'm afraid you don't keep abreast of European history," he said. "Haven't - you heard of the great revolution in Mervo and the overthrow of the - dynasty? Bloodless, but invigorating. The populace rose against me as one - man—except good old General Poineau. He was for me, and Crump was - neutral, but apart from them my subjects were unanimous. There's a - republic again in Mervo now." - </p> - <p> - "But why? What had you done?" - </p> - <p> - "Well, I abolished the gaming-tables. But, more probably," he went on - quickly, "they saw what a perfect dub I was in every—" - </p> - <p> - She interrupted him. - </p> - <p> - "Do you mean to say that, just because of me—?" - </p> - <p> - "Well," he said awkwardly, "as a matter of fact what you said did make me - think over my position, and, of course, directly I thought over it—oh, - well, anyway, I closed down gambling in Mervo, and then—" - </p> - <p> - "John!" - </p> - <p> - He was aware of a small hand creeping round the table under cover of the - cloth. He pressed it swiftly, and, looking round, caught the eye of a - hovering waiter, who swooped like a respectful hawk. - </p> - <p> - "Did you want anything, sir?" - </p> - <p> - "I've got it, thanks," said John. - </p> - <p> - The waiter moved away. - </p> - <p> - "Well, directly they had fired me, I came over here. I don't know what I - expected to do. I suppose I thought I might find you by chance. I pretty - soon saw how hopeless it was, and it struck me that, if I didn't get some - work to do mighty quick, I shouldn't be much good to anyone except the - alienists." - </p> - <p> - "Dear!" - </p> - <p> - The waiter stared, but John's eyes stopped him in mid-swoop. - </p> - <p> - "Then I found Smith—" - </p> - <p> - "Where is Mr. Smith?" - </p> - <p> - "In prison," said John with a chuckle. - </p> - <p> - "In prison!" - </p> - <p> - "He resisted and assaulted the police. I'll tell you about it later. Well, - Smith told me of the alterations in <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, and I saw - that it was just the thing for me. And it has occupied my mind quite some. - To think of you being the writer of those Broster Street articles! You - certainly have started something, Betty! Goodness knows where it will end. - I hoped to have brought off a coup this afternoon, but the arrival of Sam - and his friends just spoiled it." - </p> - <p> - "This afternoon? Yes, why were you there? What were you doing?" - </p> - <p> - "I was interviewing the collector of rents and trying to dig his - employer's name out of him. It was Smith's idea. Smith's theory was that - the owner of the tenements must have some special private reason for lying - low, and that he would employ some special fellow, whom he could trust, as - a rent-collector. And I'm pretty certain he was right. I cornered the - collector, a little, rabbit-faced man named Gooch, and I believe he was on - the point of—What's the matter?" - </p> - <p> - Betty's forehead was wrinkled. Her eyes wore a far-away expression. - </p> - <p> - "I'm trying to remember something. I seem to know the name, Gooch. And I - seem to associate it with a little, rabbit-faced man. And—quick, - tell me some more about him. He's just hovering about on the edge of my - memory. Quick! Push him in!" - </p> - <p> - John threw his mind back to the interview in the dark passage, trying to - reconstruct it. - </p> - <p> - "He's small," he said slowly. "His eyes protrude—so do his teeth—He—he—yes, - I remember now—he has a curious red mark—" - </p> - <p> - "On his right cheek," said Betty triumphantly. - </p> - <p> - "By Jove!" cried John. "You've got him?" - </p> - <p> - "I remember him perfectly. He was—" She stopped with a little gasp. - </p> - <p> - "Yes?" - </p> - <p> - "John, he was one of my stepfather's secretaries," she said. - </p> - <p> - They looked at each other in silence. - </p> - <p> - "It can't be," said John at length. - </p> - <p> - "It can. It is. He must be. He has scores of interests everywhere. He - prides himself on it. It's the most natural thing." - </p> - <p> - John shook his head doubtfully. - </p> - <p> - "But why all the fuss? Your stepfather isn't the man to mind public - opinion—" - </p> - <p> - "But don't you see? It's as Mr. Smith said. The private reason. It's as - clear as daylight. Naturally he would do anything rather than be found - out. Don't you see? Because of Mrs. Oakley." - </p> - <p> - "Because of Mrs. Oakley?" - </p> - <p> - "You don't know her as I do. She is a curious mixture. She's - double-natured. You called her the philanthropist just now. Well, she - would be one, if—if she could bear to part with money. Yes, I know - it sounds ridiculous. But it's so. She is mean about money, but she - honestly hates to hear of anybody treating poor people badly. If my - stepfather were really the owner of those tenements, and she should find - it out, she would have nothing more to do with him. It's true. I know - her." - </p> - <p> - The smile passed away from John's face. - </p> - <p> - "By George!" he said. "It certainly begins to hang together." - </p> - <p> - "I know I'm right." - </p> - <p> - "I think you are." - </p> - <p> - He sat meditating for a moment. - </p> - <p> - "Well?" he said at last. - </p> - <p> - "What do you mean?" - </p> - <p> - "I mean, what are we to do? Do we go on with this?" - </p> - <p> - "Go on with it? I don't understand." - </p> - <p> - "I mean—well, it has become rather a family matter, you see. Do you - feel as—warlike against Mr. Scobell as you did against an unknown - lessee?" - </p> - <p> - Betty's eyes sparkled. - </p> - <p> - "I don't think I should feel any different if—if it was you," she - said. "I've been spending days and days in those houses, John dear, and - I've seen such utter squalor and misery, where there needn't be any at all - if only the owner would do his duty, and—and—" - </p> - <p> - She stopped. Her eyes were misty. - </p> - <p> - "Thumbs down, in fact," said John, nodding. "I'm with you." - </p> - <p> - As he spoke, two men came down the broad staircase into the grill-room. - Betty's back was towards them, but John saw them, and stared. - </p> - <p> - "What are you looking at?" asked Betty. - </p> - <p> - "Will you count ten before looking round?" - </p> - <p> - "What is it?" - </p> - <p> - "Your stepfather has just come in." - </p> - <p> - "What!" - </p> - <p> - "He's sitting at the other side of the room, directly behind you. Count - ten!" - </p> - <p> - But Betty had twisted round in her chair. - </p> - <p> - "Where? Where?" - </p> - <p> - "Just where you're looking. Don't let him see you." - </p> - <p> - "I don't— Oh!" - </p> - <p> - "Got him?" - </p> - <p> - He leaned back in his chair. - </p> - <p> - "The plot thickens, eh?" he said. "What is Mr. Scobell doing in New York, - I wonder, if he has not come to keep an eye on his interests?" - </p> - <p> - Betty had whipped round again. Her face was white with excitement. - </p> - <p> - "It's true," she whispered. "I was right. Do you see who that is with him? - The man?" - </p> - <p> - "Do you know him? He's a stranger to me." - </p> - <p> - "It's Mr. Parker," said Betty. - </p> - <p> - John drew in his breath sharply. - </p> - <p> - "Are you sure?" - </p> - <p> - "Positive." - </p> - <p> - John laughed quietly. He thought for a moment, then beckoned to the - hovering waiter. - </p> - <p> - "What are you going to do?" asked Betty. - </p> - <p> - "Bring me a small lemon," said John. - </p> - <p> - "Lemon squash, sir?" - </p> - <p> - "Not a lemon squash. A plain lemon. The fruit of that name. The common or - garden citron, which is sharp to the taste and not pleasant to have handed - to one. Also a piece of note paper, a little tissue paper, and an - envelope. - </p> - <p> - "What are you going to do?" asked Betty again. - </p> - <p> - John beamed. - </p> - <p> - "Did you ever read the Sherlock Holmes story entitled 'The Five Orange - Pips'? Well, when a man in that story received a mysterious envelope - containing five orange pips, it was a sign that he was due to get his. It - was all over, as far as he was concerned, except 'phoning for the - undertaker. I propose to treat Mr. Scobell better than that. He shall have - a whole lemon." - </p> - <p> - The waiter returned. John wrapped up the lemon carefully, wrote on the - note paper the words, "To B. Scobell, Esq., Property Owner, Broster - Street, from Prince John of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, this gift," and - enclosed it in the envelope. - </p> - <p> - "Do you see that gentleman at the table by the pillar?" he said. "Give him - these. Just say a gentleman sent them." - </p> - <p> - The waiter smiled doubtfully. John added a two-dollar bill to the - collection in his hand. - </p> - <p> - "You needn't give him that," he said. - </p> - <p> - The waiter smiled again, but this time not doubtfully. - </p> - <p> - "And now," said John as the messenger ambled off, "perhaps it would be - just as well if we retired." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVIII — THE FINAL ATTEMPT - </h2> - <p> - Proof that his shot had not missed its mark was supplied to John - immediately upon his arrival at the office on the following morning, when - he was met by Pugsy Maloney with the information that a gentleman had - called to see him. - </p> - <p> - "With or without a black-jack?" enquired John. "Did he give any name?" - </p> - <p> - "Sure. Parker's his name. He blew in oncst before when Mr. Smith was here. - I loosed him into de odder room." - </p> - <p> - John walked through. The man he had seen with Mr. Scobell at the - Knickerbocker was standing at the window. - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Parker?" - </p> - <p> - The other turned, as the door opened, and looked at him keenly. - </p> - <p> - "Are you Mr. Maude?" - </p> - <p> - "I am," said John. - </p> - <p> - "I guess you don't need to be told what I've come about?" - </p> - <p> - "No." - </p> - <p> - "See here," said Mr. Parker. "I don't know how you've found things out, - but you've done it, and we're through. We quit." - </p> - <p> - "I'm glad of that," said John. "Would you mind informing Spider Reilly of - that fact? It will make life pleasanter for all of us." - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Scobell sent me along here to ask you to come and talk over this - thing with him. He's at the Knickerbocker. I've a cab waiting outside. Can - you come along?" - </p> - <p> - "I'd rather he came here." - </p> - <p> - "And I bet he'd rather come here than be where he is. That little surprise - packet of yours last night put him down and out. Gave him a stroke of some - sort. He's in bed now, with half-a-dozen doctors working on him." - </p> - <p> - John thought for a moment. - </p> - <p> - "Oh," he said slowly, "if it's that—very well." - </p> - <p> - He could not help feeling a touch of remorse. He had no reason to be fond - of Mr. Scobell, but he was sorry that this should have happened. - </p> - <p> - They went out on the street. A taximeter cab was standing by the sidewalk. - They got in. Neither spoke. John was thoughtful and preoccupied. Mr. - Parker, too, appeared to be absorbed in his own thoughts. He sat with - folded arms and lowered head. - </p> - <p> - The cab buzzed up Fifth Avenue. Suddenly something, half-seen through the - window, brought John to himself with a jerk. It was the great white mass - of the Plaza Hotel. The next moment he saw that they were abreast of the - park, and for the first time an icy wave of suspicion swept over him. - </p> - <p> - "Here, what's this?" he cried. "Where are you taking me?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker's right hand came swiftly out of ambush, and something gleamed - in the sun. - </p> - <p> - "Don't move," said Mr. Parker. The hard nozzle of a pistol pressed against - John's chest. "Keep that hand still." - </p> - <p> - John dropped his hand. Mr. Parker leaned back, with the pistol resting - easily on his knee. The cab began to move more quickly. - </p> - <p> - John's mind was in a whirl. His chief emotion was not fear, but disgust - that he should have allowed himself to be trapped, with such absurd ease. - He blushed for himself. Mr. Parker's face was expressionless, but who - could say what tumults of silent laughter were not going on inside him? - John bit his lip. - </p> - <p> - "Well?" he said at last. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker did not reply. - </p> - <p> - "Well?" said John again. "What's the next move?" - </p> - <p> - It flashed across his mind that, unless driven to it by an attack, his - captor would do nothing for the moment without running grave risks - himself. To shoot now would be to attract attention. The cab would be - overtaken at once by bicycle police, and stopped. There would be no - escape. No, nothing could happen till they reached open country. At least - he would have time to think this matter over in all its bearings. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker ignored the question. He was sitting in the same attitude of - watchfulness, the revolver resting on his knee. He seemed mistrustful of - John's right hand, which was hanging limply at his side. It was from this - quarter that he appeared to expect attack. The cab was bowling easily up - the broad street, past rows and rows of high houses each looking exactly - the same as the last. Occasionally, to the right, through a break in the - line of buildings, a glimpse of the river could be seen. - </p> - <p> - A faint hope occurred to John that, by talking, he might put the other off - his guard for just that instant which was all he asked. He exerted himself - to find material for conversation. - </p> - <p> - "Tell me," he said, "what you said about Mr. Scobell, was that true? About - his being ill in bed?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker did not answer, but a wintry smile flittered across his face. - </p> - <p> - "It was not?" said John. "Well, I'm glad of that. I don't wish Mr. Scobell - any harm." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker looked at him doubtfully. - </p> - <p> - "Say, why are you in this game at all?" he said. "What made you butt in?" - </p> - <p> - "One must do something," said John. "It's interesting work." - </p> - <p> - "If you'll quit—" - </p> - <p> - John shook his head. - </p> - <p> - "I own it's a tempting proposition, things being as they are, but I won't - give up yet. You never know what may happen." - </p> - <p> - "Well, you can make a mighty near guess this trip." - </p> - <p> - "You can't do a thing yet, that's sure," said John confidently. "If you - shot me now, the cab would be stopped, and you would be lynched by the - populace. I seem to see them tearing you limb from limb. 'She loves me!' - Off comes an arm. 'She loves me not!' A leg joins the little heap on the - ground. That is what would happen, Mr. Parker." - </p> - <p> - The other shrugged his shoulders, and relapsed into silence once more. - </p> - <p> - "What are you going to do with me, Mr. Parker?" asked John. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker did not reply. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - The cab moved swiftly on. Now they had reached the open country. An - occasional wooden shack was passed, but that was all. At any moment, John - felt, the climax of the drama might be reached, and he got ready. His - muscles stiffened for a spring. There was little chance of its being - effective, but at least it would be good to put up some kind of a fight. - And he had a faint hope that the suddenness of his movement might upset - the other's aim. He was bound to be hit somewhere. That was certain. But - quickness might save him to some extent. He braced his leg against the - back of the cab. And, as he did so, its smooth speed changed to a series - of jarring jumps, each more emphatic than the last. It slowed down, then - came to a halt. There was a thud, as the chauffeur jumped down. John heard - him fumbling in the tool box. Presently the body of the machine was raised - slightly as he got to work with the jack. John's muscles relaxed. He - leaned back. Surely something could be made of this new development. But - the hand that held the revolver never wavered. He paused, irresolute. And - at the moment somebody spoke in the road outside. - </p> - <p> - "Had a breakdown?" enquired the voice. - </p> - <p> - John recognized it. It was the voice of Kid Brady. - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - The Kid, as he had stated that he intended to do, had begun his training - for his match with Eddie Wood at White Plains. It was his practise to open - a course of training with a little gentle road-work, and it was while - jogging along the highway a couple of miles from his training camp, in - company with the two thick-necked gentlemen who acted as his sparring - partners, that he had come upon the broken-down taxicab. - </p> - <p> - If this had happened after his training had begun in real earnest, he - would have averted his eyes from the spectacle, however alluring, and - continued on his way without a pause. But now, as he had not yet settled - down to genuine hard work, he felt justified in turning aside and looking - into the matter. The fact that the chauffeur, who seemed to be a taciturn - man, lacking the conversational graces, manifestly objected to an - audience, deterred him not at all. One cannot have everything in this - world, and the Kid and his attendant thick-necks were content to watch the - process of mending the tire, without demanding the additional joy of - sparkling small talk from the man in charge of the operations. - </p> - <p> - "Guy's had a breakdown, sure," said the first of the thick-necks. - </p> - <p> - "Surest thing you know," agreed his colleague. - </p> - <p> - "Seems to me the tire's punctured," said the Kid. - </p> - <p> - All three concentrated their gaze on the machine. - </p> - <p> - "Kid's right," said thick-neck number one. "Guy's been an' bust a tire." - </p> - <p> - "Surest thing you know," said thick-neck number two. - </p> - <p> - They observed the perspiring chauffeur in silence for a while. - </p> - <p> - "Wonder how he did that, now?" speculated the Kid. - </p> - <p> - "Ran over a nail, I guess," said thick-neck number one. - </p> - <p> - "Surest thing you know," said the other, who, while perhaps somewhat - deficient in the matter of original thought, was a most useful fellow to - have by one—a sort of Boswell. - </p> - <p> - "Did you run over a nail?" the Kid enquired of the chauffeur. - </p> - <p> - The chauffeur worked on, unheeding. - </p> - <p> - "This is his busy day," said the first thick-neck, with satire. "Guy's too - full of work to talk to us." - </p> - <p> - "Deaf, shouldn't wonder," surmised the Kid. "Say, wonder what's he doing - with a taxi so far out of the city." - </p> - <p> - "Some guy tells him to drive him out here, I guess. Say, it'll cost him - something, too. He'll have to strip off a few from his roll to pay for - this." - </p> - <p> - John glanced at Mr. Parker, quivering with excitement. It was his last - chance. Would the Kid think to look inside the cab, or would he move on? - Could he risk a shout? - </p> - <p> - Mr. Parker leaned forward, and thrust the muzzle of the pistol against his - body. The possibilities of the situation had evidently not been lost upon - him. - </p> - <p> - "Keep quiet," he whispered. - </p> - <p> - Outside, the conversation had begun again, and the Kid had made his - decision. - </p> - <p> - "Pretty rich guy inside," he said, following up his companion's train of - thought. "I'm going to rubber through the window." - </p> - <p> - John met Mr. Parker's eye, and smiled. - </p> - <p> - There came the sound of the Kid's feet grating on the road, as he turned, - and, as he heard it, Mr. Parker for the first time lost his head. With a - vague idea of screening John, he half-rose. The pistol wavered. It was the - chance John had prayed for. His left hand shot out, grasped the other's - wrist, and gave it a sharp wrench. The pistol went off with a deafening - report, the bullet passing through the back of the cab, then fell to the - floor, as the fingers lost their hold. And the next moment John's right - fist, darting upward, crashed home. - </p> - <p> - The effect was instantaneous. John had risen from his seat as he delivered - the blow, and it got the full benefit of his weight. Mr. Parker literally - crumpled up. His head jerked, then fell limply forward. John pushed him on - to the seat as he slid toward the floor. - </p> - <p> - The interested face of the Kid appeared at the window. Behind him could be - seen portions of the faces of the two thick-necks. - </p> - <p> - "Hello, Kid," said John. "I heard your voice. I hoped you might look in - for a chat." - </p> - <p> - The Kid stared, amazed. - </p> - <p> - "What's doin'?" he queried. - </p> - <p> - "A good deal. I'll explain later. First, will you kindly knock that - chauffeur down and sit on his head?" - </p> - <p> - "De guy's beat it," volunteered the first thick-neck. - </p> - <p> - "Surest thing you know," said the other. - </p> - <p> - "What's been doin'?" asked the Kid. "What are you going to do with this - guy?" - </p> - <p> - John inspected the prostrate Mr. Parker, who had begun to stir slightly. - </p> - <p> - "I guess we'll leave him here," he said. "I've had all of his company that - I need for to-day. Show me the nearest station, Kid. I must be getting - back to New York. I'll tell you all about it as we go. A walk will do me - good. Riding in a taxi is pleasant, but, believe me, you can have too much - of it." - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIX — A REPRESENTATIVE GATHERING - </h2> - <p> - When John returned to the office, he found that his absence had been - causing Betty an anxious hour's waiting. She had been informed by Pugsy - that he had gone out in the company of Mr. Parker, and she felt uneasy. - She turned white at his story of the ride, but he minimized the dangers. - </p> - <p> - "I don't think he ever meant to shoot. I think he was going to shut me up - somewhere out there, and keep me till I promised to be good." - </p> - <p> - "Do you think my stepfather told him to do it?" - </p> - <p> - "I doubt it. I fancy Parker is a man who acts a good deal on his own - inspirations. But we'll ask him, when he calls to-day." - </p> - <p> - "Is he going to call?" - </p> - <p> - "I have an idea he will," said John. "I sent him a note just now, asking - if he could manage a visit." - </p> - <p> - It was unfortunate, in the light of subsequent events, that Mr. Jarvis - should have seen fit to bring with him to the office that afternoon two of - his collection of cats, and that Long Otto, who, as before, accompanied - him, should have been fired by his example to the extent of introducing a - large yellow dog. For before the afternoon was ended, space in the office - was destined to be at premium. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jarvis, when he had recovered from the surprise of seeing Betty and - learning that she had returned to her old situation, explained: - </p> - <p> - "T'ought I'd bring de kits along," he said. "Dey starts fuss'n' wit' each - odder yesterday, so I brings dem along." - </p> - <p> - John inspected the menagerie without resentment. - </p> - <p> - "Sure!" he said. "They add a kind of peaceful touch to the scene." - </p> - <p> - The atmosphere was, indeed, one of peace. The dog, after an inquisitive - journey round the room, lay down and went to sleep. The cats settled - themselves comfortably, one on each of Mr. Jarvis' knees. Long Otto, - surveying the ceiling with his customary glassy stare, smoked a long - cigar. And Bat, scratching one of the cats under the ear, began to - entertain John with some reminiscences of fits and kittens. - </p> - <p> - But the peace did not last. Ten minutes had barely elapsed when the dog, - sitting up with a start, uttered a whine. The door burst open and a little - man dashed in. He was brown in the face, and had evidently been living - recently in the open air. Behind him was a crowd of uncertain numbers. - They were all strangers to John. - </p> - <p> - "Yes?" he said. - </p> - <p> - The little man glared speechlessly at the occupants of the room. The two - Bowery boys rose awkwardly. The cats fell to the floor. - </p> - <p> - The rest of the party had entered. Betty recognized the Reverend Edwin T. - Philpotts and Mr. B. Henderson Asher. - </p> - <p> - "My name is Renshaw," said the little man, having found speech. - </p> - <p> - "What can I do for you?" asked John. - </p> - <p> - The question appeared to astound the other. - </p> - <p> - "What can you—! Of all—!" - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Renshaw is the editor of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>," she said. "Mr. - Smith was only acting for him." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw caught the name. - </p> - <p> - "Yes. Mr. Smith. I want to see Mr. Smith. Where is he?" - </p> - <p> - "In prison," said John. - </p> - <p> - "In prison!" - </p> - <p> - John nodded. - </p> - <p> - "A good many things have happened since you left for your vacation. Smith - assaulted a policeman, and is now on Blackwell's Island." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw gasped. Mr. B. Henderson Asher stared, and stumbled over the - cat. - </p> - <p> - "And who are you?" asked the editor. - </p> - <p> - "My name is Maude. I—" - </p> - <p> - He broke off, to turn his attention to Mr. Jarvis and Mr. Asher, between - whom unpleasantness seemed to have arisen. Mr. Jarvis, holding a cat in - his arms, was scowling at Mr. Asher, who had backed away and appeared - apprehensive. - </p> - <p> - "What is the trouble?" asked John. - </p> - <p> - "Dis guy here wit' two left feet," said Bat querulously, "treads on de - kit." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw, eying Bat and the silent Otto with disgust, intervened. - </p> - <p> - "Who are these persons?" he enquired. - </p> - <p> - "Poison yourself," rejoined Bat, justly incensed. "Who's de little squirt, - Mr. Maude?" - </p> - <p> - John waved his hands. - </p> - <p> - "Gentlemen, gentlemen," he said, "why descend to mere personalities? I - ought to have introduced you. This is Mr. Renshaw, our editor. These, Mr. - Renshaw, are Bat Jarvis and Long Otto, our acting fighting editors, vice - Kid Brady, absent on unavoidable business." - </p> - <p> - The name stung Mr. Renshaw to indignation, as Smith's had done. - </p> - <p> - "Brady!" he shrilled. "I insist that you give me a full explanation. I go - away by my doctor's orders for a vacation, leaving Mr. Smith to conduct - the paper on certain clearly defined lines. By mere chance, while on my - vacation, I saw a copy of the paper. It had been ruined." - </p> - <p> - "Ruined?" said John. "On the contrary. The circulation has been going up - every week." - </p> - <p> - "Who is this person, Brady? With Mr. Philpotts I have been going carefully - over the numbers which have been issued since my departure—" - </p> - <p> - "An intellectual treat," murmured John. - </p> - <p> - "—and in each there is a picture of this young man in a costume - which I will not particularize—" - </p> - <p> - "There is hardly enough of it to particularize." - </p> - <p> - "—together with a page of disgusting autobiographical matter." - </p> - <p> - John held up his hand. - </p> - <p> - "I protest," he said. "We court criticism, but this is mere abuse. I - appeal to these gentlemen to say whether this, for instance, is not bright - and interesting." - </p> - <p> - He picked up the current number of <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, and turned to - the Kid's page. - </p> - <p> - "This," he said, "describes a certain ten-round unpleasantness with one - Mexican Joe. 'Joe comes up for the second round and he gives me a nasty - look, but I thinks of my mother and swats him one in the lower ribs. He - gives me another nasty look. "All right, Kid," he says; "now I'll knock - you up into the gallery." And with that he cuts loose with a right swing, - but I falls into the clinch, and then—'" - </p> - <p> - "Pah!" exclaimed Mr. Renshaw. - </p> - <p> - "Go on, boss," urged Mr. Jarvis approvingly. "It's to de good, dat stuff." - </p> - <p> - "There!" said John triumphantly. "You heard? Mr. Jarvis, one of the most - firmly established critics east of Fifth Avenue stamps Kid Brady's - reminiscences with the hall-mark of his approval." - </p> - <p> - "I falls fer de Kid every time," assented Mr. Jarvis. - </p> - <p> - "Sure! You know a good thing when you see one. Why," he went on warmly, - "there is stuff in these reminiscences which would stir the blood of a - jellyfish. Let me quote you another passage, to show that they are not - only enthralling, but helpful as well. Let me see, where is it? Ah, I have - it. 'A bully good way of putting a guy out of business is this. You don't - want to use it in the ring, because rightly speaking it's a foul, but you - will find it mighty useful if any thick-neck comes up to you in the street - and tries to start anything. It's this way. While he's setting himself for - a punch, just place the tips of the fingers of your left hand on the right - side of the chest. Then bring down the heel of your left hand. There isn't - a guy living that could stand up against that. The fingers give you a - leverage to beat the band. The guy doubles up, and you upper-cut him with - your right, and out he goes.' Now, I bet you never knew that before, Mr. - Philpotts. Try it on your parishioners." - </p> - <p> - <i>"Peaceful Moments</i>," said Mr. Renshaw irately, "is no medium for - exploiting low prize-fighters." - </p> - <p> - "Low prize-fighters! No, no! The Kid is as decent a little chap as you'd - meet anywhere. And right up in the championship class, too! He's matched - against Eddie Wood at this very moment. And Mr. Waterman will support me - in my statement that a victory over Eddie Wood means that he gets a - cast-iron claim to meet Jimmy Garvin for the championship." - </p> - <p> - "It is abominable," burst forth Mr. Renshaw. "It is disgraceful. The paper - is ruined." - </p> - <p> - "You keep saying that. It really isn't so. The returns are excellent. - Prosperity beams on us like a sun. The proprietor is more than satisfied." - </p> - <p> - "Indeed!" said Mr. Renshaw sardonically. - </p> - <p> - "Sure," said John. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw laughed an acid laugh. - </p> - <p> - "You may not know it," he said, "but Mr. Scobell is in New York at this - very moment. We arrived together yesterday on the <i>Mauretania</i>. I was - spending my vacation in England when I happened to see the copy of the - paper. I instantly communicated with Mr. Scobell, who was at Mervo, an - island in the Mediterranean—" - </p> - <p> - "I seem to know the name—" - </p> - <p> - "—and received in reply a long cable desiring me to return to New - York immediately. I sailed on the <i>Mauretania</i>, and found that he was - one of the passengers. He was extremely agitated, let me tell you. So that - your impudent assertion that the proprietor is pleased—" - </p> - <p> - John raised his eyebrows. - </p> - <p> - "I don't quite understand," he said. "From what you say, one would almost - imagine that you thought Mr. Scobell was the proprietor of this paper." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw stared. Everyone stared, except Mr. Jarvis, who, since the - readings from the Kid's reminiscences had ceased, had lost interest in the - proceedings, and was now entertaining the cats with a ball of paper tied - to a string. - </p> - <p> - "Thought that Mr. Scobell—?" repeated Mr. Renshaw. "Who is, if he is - not?" - </p> - <p> - "I am," said John. - </p> - <p> - There was a moment's absolute silence. - </p> - <p> - "You!" cried Mr. Renshaw. - </p> - <p> - "You!" exclaimed Mr. Waterman, Mr. Asher, and the Reverend Edwin T. - Philpotts. - </p> - <p> - "Sure thing," said John. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw groped for a chair, and sat down. - </p> - <p> - "Am I going mad?" he demanded feebly. "Do I understand you to say that you - own this paper?" - </p> - <p> - "I do." - </p> - <p> - "Since when?" - </p> - <p> - "Roughly speaking, about three days." - </p> - <p> - Among his audience (still excepting Mr. Jarvis, who was tickling one of - the cats and whistling a plaintive melody) there was a tendency toward - awkward silence. To start assailing a seeming nonentity and then to - discover he is the proprietor of the paper to which you wish to contribute - is like kicking an apparently empty hat and finding your rich uncle inside - it. Mr. Renshaw in particular was disturbed. Editorships of the kind to - which he aspired are not easy to get. If he were to be removed from <i>Peaceful - Moments</i> he would find it hard to place himself anywhere else. Editors, - like manuscripts, are rejected from want of space. - </p> - <p> - "I had a little money to invest," continued John. "And it seemed to me - that I couldn't do better than put it into <i>Peaceful Moments</i>. If it - did nothing else, it would give me a free hand in pursuing a policy in - which I was interested. Smith told me that Mr. Scobell's representatives - had instructions to accept any offer, so I made an offer, and they jumped - at it." - </p> - <p> - Pugsy Maloney entered, bearing a card. - </p> - <p> - "Ask him to wait just one moment," said John, reading it. - </p> - <p> - He turned to Mr. Renshaw. - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Renshaw," he said, "if you took hold of the paper again, helped by - these other gentlemen, do you think you could gather in our old - subscribers and generally make the thing a live proposition on the old - lines? Because, if so, I should be glad if you would start in with the - next number. I am through with the present policy. At least, I hope to be - in a few minutes. Do you think you can undertake that?" - </p> - <p> - Mr. Renshaw, with a sigh of relief, intimated that he could. - </p> - <p> - "Good," said John. "And now I'm afraid I must ask you to go. A rather - private and delicate interview is in the offing. Bat, I'm very much - obliged to you and Otto for your help. I don't know what we should have - done without it." - </p> - <p> - "Aw, Chee!" said Mr. Jarvis. - </p> - <p> - "Then good-by for the present." - </p> - <p> - "Good-by, boss. Good-by, loidy." - </p> - <p> - Long Otto pulled his forelock, and, accompanied by the cats and the dog, - they left the room. - </p> - <p> - When Mr. Renshaw and the others had followed them, John rang the bell for - Pugsy. - </p> - <p> - "Ask Mr. Scobell to step in," he said. - </p> - <p> - The man of many enterprises entered. His appearance had deteriorated since - John had last met him. He had the air of one who has been caught in the - machinery. His face was even sallower than of yore, and there was no gleam - in his dull green eyes. - </p> - <p> - He started at the sight of Betty, but he was evidently too absorbed in the - business in hand to be surprised at seeing her. He sank into a chair, and - stared gloomily at John. - </p> - <p> - "Well?" he said. - </p> - <p> - "Well?" said John. - </p> - <p> - "This," observed Mr. Scobell simply, "is hell." He drew a cigar stump - mechanically from his vest pocket and lighted it. - </p> - <p> - "What are you going to do about it?" he asked. - </p> - <p> - "What are you?" said John. "It's up to you." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell gazed heavily into vacancy. - </p> - <p> - "Ever since I started in to monkey with that darned Mervo," he said sadly, - "there ain't a thing gone right. I haven't been able to turn around - without bumping into myself. Everything I touch turns to mud. I guess I - can still breathe, but I'm not betting on that lasting long. Of all the - darned hoodoos that island was the worst. Say, I gotta close down that - Casino. What do you know about that! Sure thing. The old lady won't stand - for it. I had a letter from her." He turned to Betty. "You got her all - worked up, Betty. I'm not blaming you. It's just my jinx. She took it into - her head I'd been treating you mean, and she kicked at the Casino. I gotta - close it down or nix on the heir thing. That was enough for me. I'm going - to turn it into a hotel." - </p> - <p> - He relighted his cigar. - </p> - <p> - "And now, just as I got her smoothed down, along comes this darned - tenement business. Say, Prince, for the love of Mike cut it out. If those - houses are as bad as you say they are, and the old lady finds out that I - own them, it'll be Katie bar the door for me. She wouldn't stand for it - for a moment. I guess I didn't treat you good, Prince, but let's forget - it. Ease up on this rough stuff. I'll do anything you want." - </p> - <p> - Betty spoke. - </p> - <p> - "We only want you to make the houses fit to live in," she said. "I don't - believe you know what they're like." - </p> - <p> - "Why, no. I left Parker in charge. It was up to him to do what was wanted. - Say, Prince, I want to talk to you about that guy, Parker. I understand - he's been rather rough with you and your crowd. That wasn't my doing. I - didn't know anything about it till he told me. It's the darned Wild West - strain in him coming out. He used to do those sort of things out there, - and he's forgotten his manners. I pay him well, and I guess he thinks - that's the way it's up to him to earn it. You mustn't mind Parker." - </p> - <p> - "Oh, well! So long as he means well—!" said John. "I've no grudge - against Parker. I've settled with him." - </p> - <p> - "Well, then, what about this Broster Street thing? You want me to fix some - improvements, is that it?" - </p> - <p> - "That's it." - </p> - <p> - "Why, say, I'll do that. Sure. And then you'll quit handing out the - newspaper stories? That goes. I'll start right in." - </p> - <p> - He rose. - </p> - <p> - "That's taken a heap off my mind," he said. - </p> - <p> - "There's just one other thing," said John. "Have you by any chance such a - thing as a stepfather's blessing on you?" - </p> - <p> - "Eh?" - </p> - <p> - John took Betty's hand. - </p> - <p> - "We've come round to your views, Mr. Scobell," he said. "That scheme of - yours for our future looks good to us." - </p> - <p> - Mr. Scobell bit through his cigar in his emotion. - </p> - <p> - "Now, why the Heck," he moaned, "couldn't you have had the sense to do - that before, and save all this trouble?" - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXX — CONCLUSION - </h2> - <p> - Smith drew thoughtfully at his cigar, and shifted himself more comfortably - into his chair. It was long since he had visited the West, and he had - found all the old magic in the still, scented darkness of the prairie - night. He gave a little sigh of content. When John, a year before, had - announced his intention of buying this ranch, and, as it seemed to Smith, - burying himself alive a thousand miles from anywhere, he had disapproved. - He had pointed out that John was not doing what Fate expected of him. A - miracle, in the shape of a six-figure wedding present from Mrs. Oakley, - who had never been known before, in the memory of man, to give away a - millionth of that sum, had happened to him. Fate, argued Smith, plainly - intended him to stay in New York and spend his money in a civilized way. - </p> - <p> - John had had only one reply, but it was clinching. - </p> - <p> - "Betty likes the idea," he said, and Smith ceased to argue. - </p> - <p> - Now, as he sat smoking on the porch on the first night of his inaugural - visit to the ranch, a conviction was creeping over him that John had - chosen wisely. - </p> - <p> - A door opened behind him. Betty came out on to the porch, and dropped into - a chair close to where John's cigar glowed redly in the darkness. They sat - there without speaking. The stirring of unseen cattle in the corral made a - soothing accompaniment to thought. - </p> - <p> - "It is very pleasant for an old jail bird like myself," said Smith at - last, "to sit here at my ease. I wish all our absent friends could be with - us to-night. Or perhaps not quite all. Let us say, Comrade Parker here, - Comrades Brady and Maloney over there by you, and our old friend Renshaw - sharing the floor with B. Henderson Asher, Bat Jarvis, and the cats. By - the way, I was round at Broster Street before I left New York. There is - certainly an improvement. Millionaires now stop there instead of going on - to the Plaza. Are you asleep, John?" - </p> - <p> - "No." - </p> - <p> - "Excellent. I also saw Comrade Brady before I left. He has definitely got - on his match with Jimmy Garvin." - </p> - <p> - "Good. He'll win." - </p> - <p> - "The papers seem to think so. <i>Peaceful Moments</i>, however, I am sorry - to say, is silent on the subject. It was not like this in the good old - days. How is the paper going now, John? Are the receipts satisfactory?" - </p> - <p> - "Pretty fair. Renshaw is rather a marvel in his way. He seems to have - roped in nearly all the old subscribers. They eat out of his hand." - </p> - <p> - Smith stretched himself. - </p> - <p> - "These," he said, "are the moments in life to which we look back with that - wistful pleasure. This peaceful scene, John, will remain with me when I - have forgotten that such a man as Spider Reilly ever existed. These are - the real Peaceful Moments." - </p> - <p> - He closed his eyes. The cigar dropped from his fingers. There was a long - silence. - </p> - <p> - "Mr. Smith," said Betty. - </p> - <p> - There was no answer. - </p> - <p> - "He's asleep," said John. "He had a long journey to-day." - </p> - <p> - Betty drew her chair closer. From somewhere out in the darkness, from the - direction of the men's quarters, came the soft tinkle of a guitar and a - voice droning a Mexican love-song. - </p> - <p> - Her hand stole out and found his. They began to talk in whispers. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE END - </h2> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> -<pre> - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prince and Betty, by P. G. Wodehouse - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCE AND BETTY *** - -***** This file should be named 6955-h.htm or 6955-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/9/5/6955/ - -Etext produced by Suzanne L. 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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: The Prince and Betty - -Author: P. G. Wodehouse - -Posting Date: August 26, 2012 [EBook #6955] -Release Date: November, 2004 -First Posted: February 17, 2003 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCE AND BETTY *** - - - - -Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team - - - - - - - - - - - - -THE PRINCE AND BETTY - - - - - -by P. G. WODEHOUSE - -[American edition] -1912 - - - - -CONTENTS - - -CHAPTER - -I THE CABLE FROM MERVO - -II MERVO AND ITS OWNER - -III JOHN - -IV VIVE LE ROI - -V MR. SCOBELL HAS ANOTHER IDEA - -VI YOUNG ADAM CUPID - -VII MR. SCOBELL IS FRANK - -VIII AN ULTIMATUM FROM THE THRONE - -IX MERVO CHANGES ITS CONSTITUTION - -X MRS. OAKLEY - -XI A LETTER OP INTRODUCTION - -XII "PEACEFUL MOMENTS" - -XIII BETTY MAKES A FRIEND - -XIV A CHANGE OF POLICY - -XV THE HONEYED WORD - -XVI TWO VISITORS TO THE OFFICE - -XVII THE MAN AT THE ASTOR - -XVIII THE HIGHFIELD - -XIX THE FIRST BATTLE - -XX BETTY AT LARGE - -XXI CHANGES IN THE STAFF - -XXII A GATHERING OF CAT SPECIALISTS - -XXIII THE RETIREMENT OF SMITH - -XXIV THE CAMPAIGN QUICKENS - -XXV CORNERED - -XXVI JOURNEY'S END - -XXVII A LEMON - -XXVIII THE FINAL ATTEMPT - -XXIX A REPRESENTATIVE GATHERING - -XXX CONCLUSION - - - - -THE PRINCE AND BETTY - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE CABLE PROM MERVO - - -A pretty girl in a blue dress came out of the house, and began to walk -slowly across the terrace to where Elsa Keith sat with Marvin Rossiter -in the shade of the big sycamore. Elsa and Marvin had become engaged -some few days before, and were generally to be found at this time -sitting together in some shaded spot in the grounds of the Keith's Long -Island home. - -"What's troubling Betty, I wonder," said Elsa. "She looks worried." - -Marvin turned his head. - -"Is that your friend, Miss Silver?" - -"That's Betty. We were at college together. I want you to like Betty." - -"Then I will. When did she arrive?" - -"Last night. She's here for a month. What's the matter, Betty? This is -Marvin. I want you to like Marvin." - -Betty Silver smiled. Her face, in repose, was rather wistful, but it -lighted up when she smiled, and an unsuspected dimple came into being -on her chin. - -"Of course I shall," she said. - -Her big gray eyes seemed to search Marvin's for an instant and Marvin -had, almost subconsciously, a comfortable feeling that he had been -tested and found worthy. - -"What were you scowling at so ferociously, Betty?" asked Elsa. - -"Was I scowling? I hope you didn't think it was at you. Oh, Elsa, I'm -miserable! I shall have to leave this heavenly place." - -"Betty!" - -"At once. And I was meaning to have the most lovely time. See what has -come!" - -She held out some flimsy sheets of paper. - -"A cable!" said Elsa. - -"Great Scott! it looks like the scenario of a four-act play," said -Marvin. "That's not all one cable, surely? Whoever sent it must be a -millionaire." - -"He is. It's from my stepfather. Read it out, Elsa. I want Mr. Rossiter -to hear it. He may be able to tell me where Mervo is. Did you ever hear -of Mervo, Mr. Rossiter?" - -"Never. What is it?" - -"It's a place where my stepfather is, and where I've got to go. I do -call it hard. Go on, Elsa." - -Elsa, who had been skimming the document with raised eyebrows, now read -it out in its spacious entirety. - - _On receipt of this come instantly Mervo without moment - delay vital importance presence urgently required come - wherever you are cancel engagements urgent necessity hustle - have advised bank allow you draw any money you need expenses - have booked stateroom Mauretania sailing Wednesday don't fail - catch arrive Fishguard Monday train London sleep London catch - first train Tuesday Dover now mind first train no taking root - in London and spending a week shopping mid-day boat Dover - Calais arrive Paris Tuesday evening Dine Paris catch train de - luxe nine-fifteen Tuesday night for Marseilles have engaged - sleeping coupe now mind Tuesday night no cutting loose around - Paris stores you can do all that later on just now you want to - get here right quick arrive Marseilles Wednesday morning boat - Mervo Wednesday night will meet you Mervo now do you follow - all that because if not cable at once and say which part of - journey you don't understand now mind special points to be - remembered firstly come instantly secondly no cutting loose - around London Paris stores see._ - - _SCOBELL._ - -"_Well!_" said Elsa, breathless. - -"By George!" said Marvin. "He certainly seems to want you badly enough. -He hasn't spared expense. He has put in about everything you could put -into a cable." - -"Except why he wants me," said Betty. - -"Yes," said Elsa. "Why does he want you? And in such a desperate hurry, -too!" - -Marvin was re-reading the message. - -"It isn't a mere invitation," he said. "There's no -come-right-along-you'll-like-this-place-it's-fine about it. He seems to -look on your company more as a necessity than a luxury. It's a sort of -imperious C.Q.D." - -"That's what makes it so strange. We have hardly met for years. Why, he -didn't even know where I was. The cable was sent to the bank and -forwarded on. And I don't know where he is!" - -"Which brings us back," said Marvin, "to mysterious Mervo. Let us -reason inductively. If you get to the place by taking a boat from -Marseilles, it can't be far from the French coast. I should say at a -venture that Mervo is an island in the Mediterranean. And a small -island for if it had been a big one we should have heard of it." - -"Marvin!" cried Elsa, her face beaming with proud affection. "How -clever you are!" - -"A mere gift," he said modestly. "I have been like that from a boy." He -got up from his chair. "Isn't there an encyclopaedia in the library, -Elsa?" - -"Yes, but it's an old edition." - -"It will probably touch on Mervo. I'll go and fetch it." - -As he crossed the terrace, Elsa turned quickly to Betty. - -"Well?" she said. - -Betty smiled at her. - -"He's a dear. Are you very happy, Elsa?" - -Elsa's eyes danced. She drew in her breath softly. Betty looked at her -in silence for a moment. The wistful expression was back on her face. - -"Elsa," she said, suddenly. "What is it like? How does it feel, knowing -that there's someone who is fonder of you than anything--?" - -Elsa closed her eyes. - -"It's like eating berries and cream in a new dress by moonlight on a -summer night while somebody plays the violin far away in the distance -so that you can just hear it," she said. - -Her eyes opened again. - -"And it's like coming along on a winter evening and seeing the windows -lit up and knowing you've reached home." - -Betty was clenching her hands, and breathing quickly. - -"And it's like--" - -"Elsa, don't! I can't bear it!" - -"Betty! What's the matter?" - -Betty smiled again, but painfully. - -"It's stupid of me. I'm just jealous, that's all. I haven't got a -Marvin, you see. You have." - -"Well, there are plenty who would like to be your Marvin." - -Betty's face grew cold. - -"There are plenty who would like to be Benjamin Scobell's son-in-law," -she said. - -"Betty!" Elsa's voice was serious. "We've been friends for a good long -time, so you'll let me say something, won't you? I think you're getting -just the least bit hard. Now turn and rend me," she added -good-humoredly. - -"I'm not going to rend you," said Betty. "You're perfectly right. I am -getting hard. How can I help it? Do you know how many men have asked me -to marry them since I saw you last? Five." - -"Betty!" - -"And not one of them cared the slightest bit about me." - -"But, Betty, dear, that's just what I mean. Why should you say that? -How can you know?" - -"How do I know? Well, I do know. Instinct, I suppose. The instinct of -self-preservation which nature gives hunted animals. I can't think of a -single man in the world--except your Marvin, of course--who wouldn't -do anything for money." She stopped. "Well, yes, one." - -Elsa leaned forward eagerly. - -"Who, Betty?" - -"You don't know him." - -"But what's his name?" - -Betty hesitated. - -"Well, if I am on the witness-stand--Maude." - -"Maude? I thought you said a man?" - -"It's his name. John Maude." - -"But, Betty! Why didn't you tell me before? This is tremendously -interesting." - -Betty laughed shortly. - -"Not so very, really. I only met him two or three times, and I haven't -seen him for years, and I don't suppose I shall ever see him again. He -was a friend of Alice Beecher's brother, who was at Harvard. Alice took -me over to meet her brother, and Mr. Maude was there. That's all." - -Elsa was plainly disappointed. - -"But how do you know, then--? What makes you think that he--?" - -"Instinct, again, I suppose. I do know." - -"And you've never met him since?" - -Betty shook her head. Elsa relapsed into silence. She had a sense of -pathos. - -At the further end of the terrace Marvin Rossiter appeared, carrying a -large volume. - -"Here we are," he said. "Scared it up at the first attempt. Now then." - -He sat down, and opened the book. - -"You don't want to hear all about how Jason went there in search of the -Golden Fleece, and how Ulysses is supposed to have taken it in on his -round-trip? You want something more modern. Well, it's an island in the -Mediterranean, as I said, and I'm surprised that you've never heard of -it, Elsa, because it's celebrated in its way. It's the smallest -independent state in the world. Smaller than Monaco, even. Here are -some facts. Its population when this encyclopaedia was printed--there -may be more now--was eleven thousand and sixteen. It was ruled over up -to 1886 by a prince. But in that year the populace appear to have said -to themselves, 'When in the course of human events....' Anyway, they -fired the prince, and the place is now a republic. So that's where -you're going, Miss Silver. I don't know if it's any consolation to you, -but the island, according to this gentleman, is celebrated for the -unspoilt beauty of its scenery. He also gives a list of the fish that -can be caught there. It takes up about three lines." - -"But what can my stepfather be doing there? I last heard of him in -London. Well, I suppose I shall have to go." - -"I suppose you will," said Elsa mournfully. "But, oh, Betty, what a -shame!" - - - - -CHAPTER II - -MERVO AND ITS OWNER - - -"By heck!" cried Mr. Benjamin Scobell. - -He wheeled round from the window, and transferred his gaze from the -view to his sister Marion; losing by the action, for the view was a joy -to the eye, which his sister Marion was not. - -Mervo was looking its best under the hot morning sun. Mr. Scobell's -villa stood near the summit of the only hill the island possessed, and -from the window of the morning-room, where he had just finished -breakfast, he had an uninterrupted view of valley, town, and harbor--a -two-mile riot of green, gold and white, and beyond the white the blue -satin of the Mediterranean. Mr. Scobell did not read poetry except that -which advertised certain breakfast foods in which he was interested, or -he might have been reminded of the Island of Flowers in Tennyson's -"Voyage of Maeldive." Violets, pinks, crocuses, yellow and purple -mesembryanthemum, lavender, myrtle, and rosemary ... his two-mile view -contained them all. The hillside below him was all aglow with the -yellow fire of the mimosa. But his was not one of those emotional -natures to which the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that -do often lie too deep for tears. A primrose by the river's brim a -simple primrose was to him--or not so much a simple primrose, perhaps, -as a basis for a possible Primrosina, the Soap that Really Cleans You. - -He was a nasty little man to hold despotic sway over such a Paradise: a -goblin in Fairyland. Somewhat below the middle height, he was lean of -body and vulturine of face. He had a greedy mouth, a hooked nose, -liquid green eyes and a sallow complexion. He was rarely seen without a -half-smoked cigar between his lips. This at intervals he would relight, -only to allow it to go out again; and when, after numerous fresh -starts, it had dwindled beyond the limits of convenience, he would -substitute another from the reserve supply that protruded from his -vest-pocket. - - * * * * * - -How Benjamin Scobell had discovered the existence of Mervo is not -known. It lay well outside the sphere of the ordinary financier. But -Mr. Scobell took a pride in the versatility of his finance. It -distinguished him from the uninspired who were content to concentrate -themselves on steel, wheat and such-like things. It was Mr. Scobell's -way to consider nothing as lying outside his sphere. In a financial -sense he might have taken Terence's _Nihil humanum alienum_ as his -motto. He was interested in innumerable enterprises, great and small. -He was the power behind a company which was endeavoring, without much -success, to extract gold from the mountains of North Wales, and another -which was trying, without any success at all, to do the same by sea -water. He owned a model farm in Indiana, and a weekly paper in New -York. He had financed patent medicines, patent foods, patent corks, -patent corkscrews, patent devices of all kinds, some profitable, some -the reverse. - -Also--outside the ordinary gains of finance--he had expectations. He -was the only male relative of his aunt, the celebrated Mrs. Jane -Oakley, who lived in a cottage on Staten Island, and was reputed to -spend five hundred dollars a year--some said less--out of her snug -income of eighteen million. She was an unusual old lady in many ways, -and, unfortunately, unusually full of deep-rooted prejudices. The fear -lest he might inadvertently fall foul of these rarely ceased to haunt -Mr. Scobell. - -This man of many projects had descended upon Mervo like a stone on the -surface of some quiet pool, bubbling over with modern enterprise in -general and, in particular, with a scheme. Before his arrival, Mervo -had been an island of dreams and slow movement and putting things off -till to-morrow. The only really energetic thing it had ever done in its -whole history had been to expel his late highness, Prince Charles, and -change itself into a republic. And even that had been done with the -minimum of fuss. The Prince was away at the time. Indeed, he had been -away for nearly three years, the pleasures of Paris, London and Vienna -appealing to him more keenly than life among his subjects. Mervo, -having thought the matter over during these years, decided that it had -no further use for Prince Charles. Quite quietly, with none of that -vulgar brawling which its neighbor, France, had found necessary in -similar circumstances, it had struck his name off the pay-roll, and -declared itself a republic. The royalist party, headed by General -Poineau, had been distracted but impotent. The army, one hundred and -fifteen strong, had gone solid for the new regime, and that had settled -it. Mervo had then gone to sleep again. It was asleep when Mr. Scobell -found it. - -The financier's scheme was first revealed to M. d'Orby, the President -of the Republic, a large, stout statesman with even more than the -average Mervian instinct for slumber. He was asleep in a chair on the -porch of his villa when Mr. Scobell paid his call, and it was not until -the financier's secretary, who attended the seance in the capacity of -interpreter, had rocked him vigorously from side to side for quite a -minute that he displayed any signs of animation beyond a snore like the -growling of distant thunder. When at length he opened his eyes, he -perceived the nightmare-like form of Mr. Scobell standing before him, -talking. The financier, impatient of delay, had begun to talk some -moments before the great awakening. - -"Sir," Mr. Scobell was saying, "I gotta proposition to which I'd like -you to give your complete attention. Shake him some more, Crump. Sir, -there's big money in it for all of us, if you and your crowd'll sit in. -Money. _Lar' monnay_. No, that means change. What's money, Crump? -_Arjong_? There's _arjong_ in it, Squire. Get that? Oh, shucks! -Hand it to him in French, Crump." - -Mr. Secretary Crump translated. The President blinked, and intimated -that he would hear more. Mr. Scobell relighted his cigar-stump, and -proceeded. - -"Say, you've heard of _Moosieer_ Blonk? Ask the old skeesicks if -he's ever heard of _Mersyaw_ Blonk, Crump, the feller who started -the gaming-tables at Monte Carlo." - -Filtered through Mr. Crump, the question became intelligible to the -President. He said he had heard of M. Blanc. Mr. Crump caught the reply -and sent it on to Mr. Scobell, as the man on first base catches the -ball and throws it to second. - -Mr. Scobell relighted his cigar. - -"Well, I'm in that line. I'm going to put this island on the map just -like old Doctor Blonk put Monte Carlo. I've been studying up all about -the old man, and I know just what he did and how he did it. Monte Carlo -was just such another jerkwater little place as this is before he hit -it. The government was down to its last bean and wondering where the -Heck its next meal-ticket was coming from, when in blows Mr. Man, tucks -up his shirt-sleeves, and starts the tables. And after that the place -never looked back. You and your crowd gotta get together and pass a -vote to give me a gambling concession here, same as they did him. -Scobell's my name. Hand him that, Crump." - -Mr. Crump obliged once more. A gleam of intelligence came into the -President's dull eye. He nodded once or twice. He talked volubly in -French to Mr. Crump, who responded in the same tongue. - -"The idea seems to strike him, sir," said Mr. Crump. - -"It ought to, if he isn't a clam," replied Mr. Scobell. He started to -relight his cigar, but after scorching the tip of his nose, bowed to -the inevitable and threw the relic away. - -"See here," he said, having bitten the end off the next in order; "I've -thought this thing out from soup to nuts. There's heaps of room for -another Monte Carlo. Monte's a dandy place, but it's not perfect by a -long way. To start with, it's hilly. You have to take the elevator to -get to the Casino, and when you've gotten to the end of your roll and -want to soak your pearl pin, where's the hock-shop? Half a mile away up -the side of a mountain. It ain't right. In my Casino there's going to -be a resident pawnbroker inside the building, just off the main -entrance. That's only one of a heap of improvements. Another is that my -Casino's scheduled to be a home from home, a place you can be real cosy -in. You'll look around you, and the only thing you'll miss will be -mother's face. Yes, sir, there's no need for a gambling Casino to look -and feel and smell like the reading-room at the British Museum. -Comfort, coziness and convenience. That's the ticket I'm running on. -Slip that to the old gink, Crump." - -A further outburst of the French language from Mr. Crump, supplemented -on the part of the "old gink" by gesticulations, interrupted the -proceedings. - -"What's he saying now?" asked Mr. Scobell. - -"He wants to know--" - -"Don't tell. Let me guess. He wants to know what sort of a rake-off he -and the other somnambulists will get--the darned old pirate! Is that -it?" - -Mr. Crump said that that was just it. - -"That'll be all right," said Mr. Scobell. "Old man Blong's offer to the -Prince of Monaco was five hundred thousand francs a year--that's -somewhere around a hundred thousand dollars in real money--and half the -profits made by the Casino. That's my offer, too. See how that hits -him, Crump." - -Mr. Crump investigated. - -"He says he accepts gladly, on behalf of the Republic, sir," he -announced. - -M. d'Orby confirmed the statement by rising, dodging the cigar, and -kissing Mr. Scobell on both cheeks. - -"Cut it out," said the financier austerely, breaking out of the clinch. -"We'll take the Apache Dance as read. Good-by, Squire. Glad it's -settled. Now I can get busy." - -He did. Workmen poured into Mervo, and in a very short time, dominating -the town and reducing to insignificance the palace of the late Prince, -once a passably imposing mansion, there rose beside the harbor a -mammoth Casino of shining stone. - -Imposing as was the exterior, it was on the interior that Mr. Scobell -more particularly prided himself, and not without reason. Certainly, a -man with money to lose could lose it here under the most charming -conditions. It had been Mr. Scobell's object to avoid the cheerless -grandeur of the rival institution down the coast. Instead of one large -hall sprinkled with tables, each table had a room to itself, separated -from its neighbor by sound-proof folding-doors. And as the building -progressed, Mr. Scobell's active mind had soared above the original -idea of domestic coziness to far greater heights of ingenuity. Each of -the rooms was furnished and arranged in a different style. The note of -individuality extended even to the _croupiers_. Thus, a man with -money at his command could wander from the Dutch room, where, in the -picturesque surroundings of a Dutch kitchen, _croupiers_ in the -costume of Holland ministered to his needs, to the Japanese room, where -his coin would be raked in by quite passable imitations of the Samurai. -If he had any left at this point, he was free to dispose of it under -the auspices of near-Hindoos in the Indian room, of merry Swiss -peasants in the Swiss room, or in other appropriately furnished -apartments of red-shirted, Bret Harte miners, fur-clad Esquimaux, or -languorous Spaniards. He could then, if a man of spirit, who did not -know when he was beaten, collect the family jewels, and proceed down -the main hall, accompanied by the strains of an excellent band, to the -office of a gentlemanly pawnbroker, who spoke seven languages like a -native and was prepared to advance money on reasonable security in all -of them. - -It was a colossal venture, but it suffered from the defect from which -most big things suffer; it moved slowly. That it also moved steadily -was to some extent a consolation to Mr. Scobell. Undoubtedly it would -progress quicker and quicker, as time went on, until at length the -Casino became a permanent gold mine. But at present it was being -conducted at a loss. It was inevitable, but it irked Mr. Scobell. He -paced the island and brooded. His mind dwelt incessantly on the -problem. Ideas for promoting the prosperity of his nursling came to him -at all hours--at meals, in the night watches, when he was shaving, -walking, washing, reading, brushing his hair. - -And now one had come to him as he stood looking at the view from the -window of his morning-room, listening absently to his sister Marion as -she read stray items of interest from the columns of the _New York -Herald_, and had caused him to utter the exclamation recorded at the -beginning of the chapter. - - * * * * * - -"By Heck!" he said. "Read that again, Marion. I gottan idea." - -Miss Scobell, deep in her paper, paid no attention. Few people would -have taken her for the sister of the financier. She was his exact -opposite in almost every way. He was small, jerky and aggressive; she, -tall, deliberate and negative. She was one of those women whom nature -seems to have produced with the object of attaching them to some man in -a peculiar position of independent dependence, and who defy the -imagination to picture them in any other condition whatsoever. One -could not see Miss Scobell doing anything but pour out her brother's -coffee, darn his socks, and sit placidly by while he talked. Yet it -would have been untrue to describe her as dependent upon him. She had a -detached mind. Though her whole life had been devoted to his comfort -and though she admired him intensely, she never appeared to give his -conversation any real attention. She listened to him much as she would -have listened to a barking Pomeranian. - -"Marion!" cried Mr. Scobell. - -"A five-legged rabbit has been born in Carbondale, Southern Illinois," -she announced. - -Mr. Scobell cursed the five-legged rabbit. - -"Never mind about your rabbits. I want to hear that piece you read -before. The one about the Prince of Monaco. Will--you--listen, Marion!" - -"The Prince of Monaco, dear? Yes. He has caught another fish or -something of that sort, I think. Yes. A fish with 'telescope eyes,' the -paper says. And very convenient too, I should imagine." - -Mr. Scobell thumped the table. - -"I've got it. I've found out what's the matter with this darned place. -I see why the Casino hasn't struck its gait." - -"_I_ think it must be the _croupiers_, dear. I'm sure I never -heard of _croupiers_ in fancy costume before. It doesn't seem -right. I'm sure people don't like those nasty Hindoos. I am quite -nervous myself when I go into the Indian room. They look at me so -oddly." - -"Nonsense! That's the whole idea of the place, that it should be -different. People are sick and tired of having their money gathered in -by seedy-looking Dagoes in second-hand morning coats. We give 'em -variety. It's not the Casino that's wrong: it's the darned island. -What's the use of a republic to a place like this? I'm not saying that -you don't want a republic for a live country that's got its way to make -in the world; but for a little runt of a sawn-off, hobo, one-night -stand like this you gotta have something picturesque, something that'll -advertise the place, something that'll give a jolt to folks' curiosity, -and make 'em talk! There's this Monaco gook. He snoops around in his -yacht, digging up telescope-eyed fish, and people talk about it. -'Another darned fish,' they say. 'That's the 'steenth bite the Prince of -Monaco has had this year.' It's like a soap advertisement. It works by -suggestion. They get to thinking about the Prince and his pop-eyed -fishes, and, first thing they know, they've packed their grips and come -along to Monaco to have a peek at him. And when they're there, it's a -safe bet they aren't going back again without trying to get a mess of -easy money from the Bank. That's what this place wants. Whoever heard -of this blamed Republic doing anything except eat and sleep? They used -to have a prince here 'way back in eighty-something. Well, I'm going to -have him working at the old stand again, right away." - -Miss Scobell looked up from her paper, which she had been reading with -absorbed interest throughout tins harangue. - -"Dear?" she said enquiringly. - -"I say I'm going to have him back again," said Mr. Scobell, a little -damped. "I wish you would listen." - -"I think you're quite right, dear. Who?" - -"The Prince. Do listen, Marion. The Prince of this island, His -Highness, the Prince of Mervo. I'm going to send for him and put him on -the throne again." - -"You can't, dear. He's dead." - -"I know he's dead. You can't faze me on the history of this place. He -died in ninety-one. But before he died he married an American girl, and -there's a son, who's in America now, living with his uncle. It's the -son I'm going to send for. I got it all from General Poineau. He's a -royalist. He'll be tickled to pieces when Johnny comes marching home -again. Old man Poineau told me all about it. The Prince married a girl -called Westley, and then he was killed in an automobile accident, and -his widow went back to America with the kid, to live with her brother. -Poineau says he could lay his hand on him any time he pleased." - -"I hope you won't do anything rash, dear," said his sister comfortably. -"I'm sure we don't want any horrid revolution here, with people -shooting and stabbing each other." - -"Revolution?" cried Mr. Scobell. "Revolution! Well, I should say nix! -Revolution nothing. I'm the man with the big stick in Mervo. Pretty -near every adult on this island is dependent on my Casino for his -weekly envelope, and what I say goes--without argument. I want a -prince, so I gotta have a prince, and if any gazook makes a noise like -a man with a grouch, he'll find himself fired." - -Miss Scobell turned to her paper again. - -"Very well, dear," she said. "Just as you please. I'm sure you know -best." - -"Sure!" said her brother. "You're a good guesser. I'll go and beat up -old man Poineau right away." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -JOHN - - -Ten days after Mr. Scobell's visit to General Poineau, John, Prince of -Mervo, ignorant of the greatness so soon to be thrust upon him, was -strolling thoughtfully along one of the main thoroughfares of that -outpost of civilization, Jersey City. He was a big young man, tall and -large of limb. His shoulders especially were of the massive type -expressly designed by nature for driving wide gaps in the opposing line -on the gridiron. He looked like one of nature's center-rushes, and had, -indeed, played in that position for Harvard during two strenuous -seasons. His face wore an expression of invincible good-humor. He had a -wide, good-natured mouth, and a pair of friendly gray eyes. One felt -that he liked his follow men and would be surprised and pained if they -did not like him. - -As he passed along the street, he looked a little anxious. Sherlock -Holmes--and possibly even Doctor Watson--would have deduced that he had -something on his conscience. - -At the entrance to a large office building, he paused, and seemed to -hesitate. Then, as if he had made up his mind to face an ordeal, he -went in and pressed the button of the elevator. - -Leaving the elevator at the third floor, he went down the passage, and -pushed open a door on which was inscribed the legend, "Westley, Martin -& Co." - -A stout youth, walking across the office with his hands full of papers, -stopped in astonishment. - -"Hello, John Maude!" he cried. - -The young man grinned. - -"Say, where have you been? The old man's been as mad as a hornet since -he found you had quit without leave. He was asking for you just now." - -"I guess I'm up against it," admitted John cheerfully. - -"Where did you go yesterday?" - -John put the thing to him candidly, as man to man. - -"See here, Spiller, suppose you got up one day and found it was a -perfectly bully morning, and remembered that the Giants were playing -the Athletics, and looked at your mail, and saw that someone had sent -you a pass for the game--" - -"Were you at the ball-game? You've got the nerve! Didn't you know there -would be trouble?" - -"Old man," said John frankly, "I could no more have turned down that -pass-- Oh, well, what's the use? It was just great. I suppose I'd -better tackle the boss now. It's got to be done." - -It was not a task to which many would have looked forward. Most of -those who came into contact with Andrew Westley were afraid of him. He -was a capable rather than a lovable man, and too self-controlled to be -quite human. There was no recoil in him, no reaction after anger, as -there would have been in a hotter-tempered man. He thought before he -acted, but, when he acted, never yielded a step. - -John, in all the years of their connection, had never been able to make -anything of him. At first, he had been prepared to like him, as he -liked nearly everybody. But Mr. Westley had discouraged all advances, -and, as time went by, his nephew had come to look on him as something -apart from the rest of the world, one of those things which no fellow -could understand. - -On Mr. Westley's side, there was something to be said in extenuation of -his attitude. John reminded him of his father, and he had hated the -late Prince of Mervo with a cold hatred that had for a time been the -ruling passion of his life. He had loved his sister, and her married -life had been one long torture to him, a torture rendered keener by the -fact that he was powerless to protect either her happiness or her -money. Her money was her own, to use as she pleased, and the use which -pleased her most was to give it to her husband, who could always find a -way of spending it. As to her happiness, that was equally out of his -control. It was bound up in her Prince, who, unfortunately, was a bad -custodian for it. At last, an automobile accident put an end to His -Highness's hectic career (and, incidentally, to that of a blonde lady -from the _Folies Bergeres_), and the Princess had returned to her -brother's home, where, a year later, she died, leaving him in charge of -her infant son. - -Mr. Westley's desire from the first had been to eliminate as far as -possible all memory of the late Prince. He gave John his sister's name, -Maude, and brought him up as an American, in total ignorance of his -father's identity. During all the years they had spent together, he had -never mentioned the Prince's name. - -He disliked John intensely. He fed him, clothed him, sent him to -college, and gave him a place in his office, but he never for a moment -relaxed his bleakness of front toward him. John was not unlike his -father in appearance, though built on a larger scale, and, as time went -on, little mannerisms, too, began to show themselves, that reminded Mr. -Westley of the dead man, and killed any beginnings of affection. - -John, for his part, had the philosophy which goes with perfect health. -He fitted his uncle into the scheme of things, or, rather, set him -outside them as an irreconcilable element, and went on his way enjoying -life in his own good-humored fashion. - -It was only lately, since he had joined the firm, that he had been -conscious of any great strain. College had given him a glimpse of a -larger life, and the office cramped him. He felt vaguely that there -were bigger things in the world which he might be doing. His best -friends, of whom he now saw little, were all men of adventure and -enterprise, who had tried their hand at many things; men like Jimmy -Pitt, who had done nearly everything that could be done before coming -into an unexpected half-million; men like Rupert Smith, who had been at -Harvard with him and was now a reporter on the _News_; men like -Baker, Faraday, Williams--he could name half-a-dozen, all men who were -_doing_ something, who were out on the firing line. - -He was not a man who worried. He had not that temperament. But -sometimes he would wonder in rather a vague way whether he was not -allowing life to slip by him a little too placidly. An occasional -yearning for something larger would attack him. There seemed to be -something in him that made for inaction. His soul was sleepy. - -If he had been told of the identity of his father, it is possible that -he might have understood. The Princes of Mervo had never taken readily -to action and enterprise. For generations back, if they had varied at -all, son from father, it had been in the color of hair or eyes, not in -character--a weak, shiftless procession, with nothing to distinguish -them from the common run of men except good looks and a talent for -wasting money. - -John was the first of the line who had in him the seeds of better -things. The Westley blood and the bracing nature of his education had -done much to counteract the Mervo strain. He did not know it, but the -American in him was winning. The desire for action was growing steadily -every day. - -It had been Mervo that had sent him to the polo grounds on the previous -day. That impulse had been purely Mervian. No prince of that island had -ever resisted a temptation. But it was America that was sending him now -to meet his uncle with a quiet unconcern as to the outcome of the -interview. The spirit of adventure was in him. It was more than -possible that Mr. Westley would sink the uncle in the employer and -dismiss him as summarily as he would have dismissed any other clerk in -similar circumstances. If so, he was prepared to welcome dismissal. -Other men fought an unsheltered fight with the world, so why not he? - -He moved towards the door of the inner office with a certain -exhilaration. - -As he approached, it flew open, disclosing Mr. Westley himself, a tall, -thin man, at the sight of whom Spiller shot into his seat like a -rabbit. - -John went to meet him. - -"Ah," said Mr. Westley; "come in here. I want to speak to you." - -John followed him into the room. - -"Sit down," said his uncle. - -John waited while he dictated a letter. Neither spoke till the -stenographer had left the room. John met the girl's eye as she passed. -There was a compassionate look in it. John was popular with his fellow -employes. His absence had been the cause of discussion and speculation -among them, and the general verdict had been that there would be -troublous times for him on the morrow. - -When the door closed, Mr. Westley leaned back in his chair, and -regarded his nephew steadily from under a pair of bushy gray eyebrows -which lent a sort of hypnotic keenness to his gaze. - -"You were at the ball-game yesterday?" he said. - -The unexpectedness of the question startled John into a sharp laugh. - -"Yes," he said, recovering himself. - -"Without leave." - -"It didn't seem worth while asking for leave." - -"You mean that you relied so implicitly on our relationship to save you -from the consequences?" - -"No, I meant--" - -"Well, we need not try and discover what you may have meant. What claim -do you put forward for special consideration? Why should I treat you -differently from any other member of the staff?" - -John had a feeling that the interview was being taken at too rapid a -pace. He felt confused. - -"I don't want you to treat me differently," he said. - -Mr. Westley did not reply. John saw that he had taken a check-book from -its pigeonhole. - -"I think we understand each other," said Mr. Westley. "There is no need -for any discussion. I am writing you a check for ten thousand -dollars--" - -"Ten thousand dollars!" - -"It happens to be your own. It was left to me in trust for you by your -mother. By a miracle your father did not happen to spend it." - -John caught the bitter note which the other could not keep out of his -voice, and made one last attempt to probe this mystery. As a boy he had -tried more than once before he realized that this was a forbidden -topic. - -"Who was my father?" he said. - -Mr. Westley blotted the check carefully. - -"Quite the worst blackguard I ever had the misfortune to know," he -replied in an even tone. "Will you kindly give me a receipt for this? -Then I need not detain you. You may return to the ball-game without any -further delay. Possibly," he went on, "you may wonder why you have not -received this money before. I persuaded your mother to let me use my -discretion in choosing the time when it should be handed over to you. I -decided to wait until, in my opinion, you had sense enough to use it -properly. I do not think that time has arrived. I do not think it will -ever arrive. But as we are parting company and shall, I hope, never -meet again, you had better have it now." - -John signed the receipt in silence. - -"Thank you," said Mr. Westley. "Good-by." - -At the door John hesitated. He had looked forward to this moment as one -of excitement and adventure, but now that it had come it had left him -in anything but an uplifted mood. He was naturally warm-hearted, and -his uncle's cold anger hurt him. It was so different from anything -sudden, so essentially not of the moment. He felt instinctively that it -had been smoldering for a long time, and realized with a shock that his -uncle had not been merely indifferent to him all these years, but had -actually hated him. It was as if he had caught a glimpse of something -ugly. He felt that this was the last scene of some long drawn-out -tragedy. - -Something made him turn impulsively back towards the desk. - -"Uncle--" he cried. - -He stopped. The hopelessness of attempting any step towards a better -understanding overwhelmed him. Mr. Westley had begun to write. He must -have seen John's movement, but he continued to write as if he were -alone in the room. - -John turned to the door again. - -"Good-by," he said. - -Mr. Westley did not look up. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -VIVE LE ROI! - - -When, an hour later, John landed in New York from the ferry, his mood -had changed. The sun and the breeze had done their work. He looked on -life once more with a cheerful and optimistic eye. - -His first act, on landing, was to proceed to the office of the -_News_ and enquire for Rupert Smith. He felt that he had urgent -need of a few minutes' conversation with him. Now that the painter had -been definitely cut that bound him to the safe and conventional, and he -had set out on his own account to lead the life adventurous, he was -conscious of an absurd diffidence. New York looked different to him. It -made him feel positively shy. A pressing need for a friendly native in -this strange land manifested itself. Smith would have ideas and advice -to bestow--he was notoriously prolific of both--and in this crisis both -were highly necessary. - -Smith, however, was not at the office. He had gone out, John was -informed, earlier in the morning to cover a threatened strike somewhere -down on the East Side. John did not go in search of him. The chance of -finding him in that maze of mean streets was remote. He decided to go -uptown, select a hotel, and lunch. To the need for lunch he attributed -a certain sinking sensation of which he was becoming more and more -aware, and which bore much too close a resemblance to dismay to be -pleasant. The poet's statement that "the man who's square, his chances -always are best; no circumstance can shoot a scare into the contents of -his vest," is only true within limits. The squarest men, deposited -suddenly in New York and faced with the prospect of earning his living -there, is likely to quail for a moment. New York is not like other -cities. London greets the stranger with a sleepy grunt. Paris giggles. -New York howls. A gladiator, waiting in the center of the arena while -the Colosseum officials fumbled with the bolts of the door behind which -paced the noisy tiger he was to fight, must have had some of the -emotions which John experienced during his first hour as a masterless -man in Gotham. - -A surface car carried him up Broadway. At Times Square the Astor Hotel -loomed up on the left. It looked a pretty good hotel to John. He -dismounted. - -Half an hour later he decided that he was acclimated. He had secured a -base of operations in the shape of a room on the seventh floor, his -check was safely deposited in the hotel bank, and he was half-way -through a lunch which had caused him already to look on New York not -only as the finest city in the world, but also, on the whole, as the -one city of all others in which a young man might make a fortune with -the maximum of speed and the minimum of effort. - -After lunch, having telegraphed his address to his uncle in case of -mail, he took the latter's excellent advice and went to the polo -grounds. Returning in time to dress, he dined at the hotel, after which -he visited a near-by theater, and completed a pleasant and strenuous -day at one of those friendly restaurants where the music is continuous -and the waiters are apt to burst into song in the intervals of their -other duties. - -A second attempt to find Smith next morning failed, as the first had -done. The staff of the News were out of bed and at work ridiculously -early, and when John called up the office between eleven and twelve -o'clock--nature's breakfast-hour--Smith was again down East, observing -the movements of those who were about to strike or who had already -struck. - -It hardly seemed worth while starting to lay the bed plates of his -fortune till he had consulted the expert. What would Rockefeller have -done? He would, John felt certain, have gone to the ball-game. - -He imitated the great financier. - - * * * * * - -It was while he was smoking a cigar after dinner that night, musing on -the fortunes of the day's game and, in particular, on the almost -criminal imbecility of the umpire, that he was dreamily aware that he -was being "paged." A small boy in uniform was meandering through the -room, chanting his name. - -"Gent wants five minutes wit' you," announced the boy, intercepted. -"Hasn't got no card. Business, he says." - -This disposed of the idea that Rupert Smith had discovered his retreat. -John was puzzled. He could not think of another person in New York who -knew of his presence at the Astor. But it was the unknown that he was -in search of, and he decided to see the mysterious stranger. - -"Send him along," he said. - -The boy disappeared, and presently John observed him threading his way -back among the tables, followed by a young man of extraordinary gravity -of countenance, who was looking about him with an intent gaze through a -pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. - -John got up to meet him. - -"My name is Maude," he said. "Won't you sit down? Have you had dinner?" - -"Thank you, yes," said the spectacled young man. - -"You'll have a cigar and coffee, then?" - -"Thank you, yes." - -The young man remained silent until the waiter had filled his cup. - -"My name is Crump," he said. "I am Mr. Benjamin Scobell's private -secretary." - -"Yes?" said John. "Snug job?" - -The other seemed to miss something in his voice. - -"You have heard of Mr. Scobell?" he asked. - -"Not to my knowledge," said John. - -"Ah! you have lost touch very much with Mervo, of course." - -John stared. - -"Mervo?" - -It sounded like some patent medicine. - -"I have been instructed," said Mr. Crump solemnly, "to inform Your -Highness that the Republic has been dissolved, and that your subjects -offer you the throne of your ancestors." - -John leaned back in his chair, and looked at the speaker in dumb -amazement. The thought flashed across him that Mr. Crump had been -perfectly correct in saying that he had dined. - -His attitude appeared to astound Mr. Crump. He goggled through his -spectacles at John, who was reminded of some rare fish. - -"You are John Maude? You said you were." - -"I'm John Maude right enough. We're solid on that point." - -"And your mother was the only sister of Mr. Andrew Westley?" - -"You're right there, too." - -"Then there is no mistake. I say the Republic--" He paused, as if -struck with an idea. "Don't you know?" he said. "Your father--" - -John became suddenly interested. - -"If you've got anything to tell me about my father, go right ahead. -You'll be the only man I've ever met who has said a word about him. Who -the deuce was he, anyway?" - -Mr. Crump's face cleared. - -"I understand. I had not expected this. You have been kept in -ignorance. Your father, Mr. Maude, was the late Prince Charles of -Mervo." - -It was not easy to astonish John, but this announcement did so. He -dropped his cigar in a shower of gray ash on to his trousers, and -retrieved it almost mechanically, his wide-open eyes fixed on the -other's face. - -"What!" he cried. - -Mr. Crump nodded gravely. - -"You are Prince John of Mervo, and I am here--" he got into his stride -as he reached the familiar phrase--"to inform Your Highness that the -Republic has been dissolved, and that your subjects offer you the -throne of your ancestors." - -A horrid doubt seized John. - -"You're stringing me. One of those Indians at the _News_, Rupert -Smith, or someone, has put you up to this." - -Mr. Crump appeared wounded. - -"If Your Highness would glance at these documents-- This is a copy -of the register of the church in which your mother and father were -married." - -John glanced at the document. It was perfectly lucid. - -"Then--then it's true!" he said. - -"Perfectly true, Your Highness. And I am here to inform--" - -"But where the deuce is Mervo? I never heard of the place." - -"It is an island principality in the Mediterranean, Your High--" - -"For goodness' sake, old man, don't keep calling me 'Your Highness.' It -may be fun to you, but it makes me feel a perfect ass. Let me get into -the thing gradually." - -Mr. Crump felt in his pocket. - -"Mr. Scobell," he said, producing a roll of bills, "entrusted me with -money to defray any expenses--" - -More than any words, this spectacle removed any lingering doubt which -John might have had as to the possibility of this being some intricate -practical joke. - -"Are these for me?" he said. - -Mr. Crump passed them across to him. - -"There are a thousand dollars here," he said. "I am also instructed to -say that you are at liberty to draw further against Mr. Scobell's -account at the Wall Street office of the European and Asiatic Bank." - -The name Scobell had been recurring like a _leit-motif_ in Mr. -Crump's conversation. This suddenly came home to John. - -"Before we go any further," he said, "let's get one thing clear. Who is -this Mr. Scobell? How does he get mixed up in this?" - -"He is the proprietor of the Casino at Mervo." - -"He seems to be one of those generous, open-handed fellows. Nothing of -the tight wad about him." - -"He is deeply interested in Your High--in your return." - -John laid the roll of bills beside his coffee cup, and relighted his -cigar. - -"That's mighty good of him," he said. "It strikes me, old man, that I -am not absolutely up-to-date as regards the internal affairs of this -important little kingdom of mine. How would it be if you were to put me -next to one or two facts? Start at the beginning and go right on." - -When Mr. Crump had finished a condensed history of Mervo and Mervian -politics, John smoked in silence for some minutes. - -"Life, Crump," he said at last, "is certainly speeding up as far as I -am concerned. Up till now nothing in particular has ever happened to -me. A couple of days ago I lost my job, was given ten thousand dollars -that I didn't know existed, and now you tell me I'm a prince. Well, -well! These are stirring times. When do we start for the old -homestead?" - -"Mr. Scobell was exceedingly anxious that we should return by -Saturday's boat." - -"Saturday? What, to-morrow?" - -"Perhaps it is too soon. You will not be able to settle your affairs?" - -"I guess I can settle my affairs all right. I've only got to pack a -grip and tip the bell hops. And as Scobell seems to be financing this -show, perhaps it's up to me to step lively if he wants it. But it's a -pity. I was just beginning to like this place. There is generally -something doing along the White Way after twilight, Crump." - -The gravity of Mr. Scobell's secretary broke up unexpectedly into a -slow, wide smile. His eyes behind their glasses gleamed with a wistful -light. - -"Gee!" he murmured. - -John looked at him, amazed. - -"Crump," he cried. "Crump, I believe you're a sport!" - -Mr. Crump seemed completely to have forgotten his responsible position -as secretary to a millionaire and special messenger to a prince. He -smirked. - -"I'd have liked a day or two in the old burg," he said softly. "I -haven't been to Rector's since Ponto was a pup." - -John reached across the table and seized the secretary's hand. - -"Crump," he said, "you _are_ a sport. This is no time for delay. -If we are to liven up this great city, we must get busy right away. -Grab your hat, and come along. One doesn't become a prince every day. -The occasion wants celebrating. Are you with me, Crump, old scout?" - -"Sure thing," said the envoy ecstatically. - - * * * * * - -At eight o'clock on the following morning, two young men, hatless and a -little rumpled, but obviously cheerful, entered the Astor Hotel, -demanding breakfast. - -A bell boy who met them was addressed by the larger of the two, and -asked his name. - -"Desmond Ryan," he replied. - -The young man patted him on his shoulder. - -"I appoint you, Desmond Ryan," he said, "Grand Hereditary Bell Hop to -the Court of Mervo." - -Thus did Prince John formally enter into his kingdom. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -MR. SCOBELL HAS ANOTHER IDEA - - -Owing to collaboration between Fate and Mr. Scobell, John's state entry -into Mervo was an interesting blend between a pageant and a vaudeville -sketch. The pageant idea was Mr. Scobell's. Fate supplied the -vaudeville. - -The reception at the quay, when the little steamer that plied between -Marseilles and the island principality gave up its precious freight, -was not on quite so impressive a scale as might have been given to the -monarch of a more powerful kingdom; but John was not disappointed. -During the voyage from New York, in the intervals of seasickness--for -he was a poor sailor--Mr. Crump had supplied him with certain facts -about Mervo, one of which was that its adult population numbered just -under thirteen thousand, and this had prepared him for any shortcomings -in the way of popular demonstration. - -As a matter of fact, Mr. Scobell was exceedingly pleased with the scale -of the reception, which to his mind amounted practically to pomp. The -Palace Guard, forty strong, lined the quay. Besides these, there were -four officers, a band, and sixteen mounted carbineers. The rest of the -army was dotted along the streets. In addition to the military, there -was a gathering of a hundred and fifty civilians, mainly drawn from -fishing circles. The majority of these remained stolidly silent -throughout, but three, more emotional, cheered vigorously as a young -man was seen to step on to the gangway, carrying a grip, and make for -the shore. General Poineau, a white-haired warrior with a fierce -mustache, strode forward and saluted. The Palace Guards presented arms. -The band struck up the Mervian national anthem. General Poineau, -lowering his hand, put on a pair of _pince-nez_ and began to -unroll an address of welcome. - -It was then seen that the young man was Mr. Crump. General Poineau -removed his glasses and gave an impatient twirl to his mustache. Mr. -Scobell, who for possibly the first time in his career was not smoking -(though, as was afterward made manifest, he had the materials on his -person), bustled to the front. - -"Where's his nibs, Crump?" he enquired. - -The secretary's reply was swept away in a flood of melody. To the band -Mr. Crump's face was strange. They had no reason to suppose that he was -not Prince John, and they acted accordingly. With a rattle of drums -they burst once more into their spirited rendering of the national -anthem. - -Mr. Scobell sawed the air with his arms, but was powerless to dam the -flood. - -"His Highness is shaving, sir!" bawled Mr. Crump, depositing his grip -on the quay and making a trumpet of his hands. - -"Shaving!" - -"Yes, sir. I told him he ought to come along, but His Highness said he -wasn't going to land looking like a tramp comedian." - -By this time General Poineau had explained matters to the band and they -checked the national anthem abruptly in the middle of a bar, with the -exception of the cornet player, who continued gallantly by himself till -a feeling of loneliness brought the truth home to him. An awkward stage -wait followed, which lasted until John was seen crossing the deck, when -there were more cheers, and General Poineau, resuming his -_pince-nez_, brought out the address of welcome again. - -At this point Mr. Scobell made his presence felt. - -"Glad to meet you, Prince," he said, coming forward. "Scobell's my -name. Shake hands with General Poineau. No, that's wrong. I guess he -kisses your hand, don't he?" - -"I'll swing on him if he does," said John, cheerfully. - -Mr. Scobell eyed him doubtfully. His Highness did not appear to him to -be treating the inaugural ceremony with that reserved dignity which we -like to see in princes on these occasions. Mr. Scobell was a business -man. He wanted his money's worth. His idea of a Prince of Mervo was -something statuesquely aloof, something--he could not express it -exactly--on the lines of the illustrations in the Zenda stories in the -magazines--about eight feet high and shinily magnificent, something -that would give the place a tone. That was what he had had in his mind -when he sent for John. He did not want a cheerful young man in a soft -hat and a flannel suit who looked as if at any moment he might burst -into a college yell. - -General Poineau, meanwhile, had embarked on the address of welcome. -John regarded him thoughtfully. - -"I can see," he said to Mr. Scobell, "that the gentleman is making a -good speech, but what is he saying? That is what gets past me." - -"He is welcoming Your Highness," said Mr. Crump, the linguist, "in the -name of the people of Mervo." - -"Who, I notice, have had the bully good sense to stay in bed. I guess -they knew that the Boy Orator would do all that was necessary. He -hasn't said anything about a bite of breakfast, has he? Has his address -happened to work around to the subject of shredded wheat and shirred -eggs yet? That's the part that's going to make a hit with me." - -"There'll be breakfast at my villa, Your Highness," said Mr. Scobell. -"My automobile is waiting along there." - -The General reached his peroration, worked his way through it, and -finished with a military clash of heels and a salute. The band rattled -off the national anthem once more. - -"Now, what?" said John, turning to Mr. Scobell. "Breakfast?" - -"I guess you'd better say a few words to them, Your Highness; they'll -expect it." - -"But I can't speak the language, and they can't understand English. The -thing'll be a stand-off." - -"Crump will hand it to 'em. Here, Crump." - -"Sir?" - -"Line up and shoot His Highness's remarks into 'em." - -"Yes, sir. - -"It's all very well for you, Crump," said John. "You probably enjoy -this sort of thing. I don't. I haven't felt such a fool since I sang -'The Maiden's Prayer' on Tremont Street when I was joining the frat. -Are you ready? No, it's no good. I don't know what to say." - -"Tell 'em you're tickled to death," advised Mr. Scobell anxiously. - -John smiled in a friendly manner at the populace. Then he coughed. -"Gentlemen," he said--"and more particularly the sport on my left who -has just spoken his piece whose name I can't remember--I thank you for -the warm welcome you have given me. If it is any satisfaction to you to -know that it has made me feel like thirty cents, you may have that -satisfaction. Thirty is a liberal estimate." - -"'His Highness is overwhelmed by your loyal welcome. He thanks you -warmly,'" translated Mr. Crump, tactfully. - -"I feel that we shall get along nicely together," continued John. "If -you are chumps enough to turn out of your comfortable beds at this time -of the morning simply to see me, you can't be very hard to please. We -shall hit it off fine." - -_Mr. Crump:_ "His Highness hopes and believes that he will always -continue to command the affection of his people." - -"I--" John paused. "That's the lot," he said. "The flow of inspiration -has ceased. The magic fire has gone out. Break it to 'em, Crump. For -me, breakfast." - -During the early portion of the ride Mr. Scobell was silent and -thoughtful. John's speech had impressed him neither as oratory nor as -an index to his frame of mind. He had not interrupted him, because he -knew that none of those present could understand what was being said, -and that Mr. Crump was to be relied on as an editor. But he had not -enjoyed it. He did not take the people of Mervo seriously himself, but -in the Prince such an attitude struck him as unbecoming. Then he -cheered up. After all, John had given evidence of having a certain -amount of what he would have called "get-up" in him. For the purposes -for which he needed him, a tendency to make light of things was not -amiss. It was essentially as a performing prince that he had engaged -John. He wanted him to do unusual things, which would make people -talk--aeroplaning was one that occurred to him. Perhaps a prince who -took a serious view of his position would try to raise the people's -minds and start reforms and generally be a nuisance. John could, at any -rate, be relied upon not to do that. - -His face cleared. - -"Have a good cigar, Prince?" he said, cordially, inserting two fingers -in his vest-pocket. - -"Sure, Mike," said His Highness affably. - -Breakfast over, Mr. Scobell replaced the remains of his cigar between -his lips, and turned to business. - -"Eh, Prince?" he said. - -"Yes!" - -"I want you, Prince," said Mr. Scobell, "to help boom this place. -That's where you come in." - -"Sure," said John. - -"As to ruling and all that," continued Mr. Scobell, "there isn't any to -do. The place runs itself. Some guy gave it a shove a thousand years -ago, and it's been rolling along ever since. What I want you to do is -the picturesque stunts. Get a yacht and catch rare fishes. Whoop it up. -Entertain swell guys when they come here. Have a Court--see what I -mean?--same as over in England. Go around in aeroplanes and that style -of thing. Don't worry about money. That'll be all right. You draw your -steady hundred thousand a year and a good chunk more besides, when we -begin to get a move on, so the dough proposition doesn't need to scare -you any." - -"Do I, by George!" said John. "It seems to me that I've fallen into a -pretty soft thing here. There'll be a joker in the deck somewhere, I -guess. There always is in these good things. But I don't see it yet. -You can count me in all right." - -"Good boy," said Mr. Scobell. "And now you'll be wanting to get to the -Palace. I'll have them bring the automobile round." - -The council of state broke up. - -Having seen John off in the car, the financier proceeded to his -sister's sitting-room. Miss Scobell had breakfasted apart that morning, -by request, her brother giving her to understand that matters of state, -unsuited to the ear of a third party, must be discussed at the meal. -She was reading her _New York Herald_. - -"Well," said Mr. Scobell, "he's come." - -"Yes, dear?" - -"And just the sort I want. Saw the idea of the thing right away, and is -ready to go the limit. No nonsense about him." - -"Is he nice-looking, Bennie?" - -"Sure. All these Mervo princes have been good-lookers, I hear, and this -one must be near the top of the list. You'll like him, Marion. All the -girls will be crazy about him in a week." - -Miss Scobell turned a page. - -"Is he married?" - -Her brother started. - -"Married? I never thought of that. But no, I guess he's not. He'd have -mentioned it. He's not the sort to hush up a thing like that. I--" - -He stopped short. His green eyes gleamed excitedly. - -"Marion!" he cried. "_Marion!_" - -"Well, dear?" - -"Listen. Gee, this thing is going to be the biggest ever. I gotta new -idea. It just came to me. Your saying that put it into my head. Do you -know what I'm going to do? I'm going to cable over to Betty to come -right along here, and I'm going to have her marry this prince guy. Yes, -sir!" - -For once Miss Scobell showed signs that her brother's conversation -really interested her. She laid down her paper, and stared at him. - -"Betty!" - -"Sure, Betty. Why not? She's a pretty girl. Clever too. The Prince'll -be lucky to get such a wife, for all his darned ancestors away back to -the flood." - -"But suppose Betty does not like him?" - -"Like him? She's gotta like him. Say, can't you make your mind soar, or -won't you? Can't you see that a thing like this has gotta be fixed -different from a marriage between--between a ribbon-counter clerk and -the girl who takes the money at a twenty-five-cent hash restaurant in -Flatbush? This is a royal alliance. Do you suppose that when a European -princess is introduced to the prince she's going to marry, they let her -say: 'Nothing doing. I don't like the shape of his nose'?" - -He gave a spirited imitation of a European princess objecting to the -shape of her selected husband's nose. - -"It isn't very romantic, Bennie," sighed Miss Scobell. She was a -confirmed reader of the more sentimental class of fiction, and this -business-like treatment of love's young dream jarred upon her. - -"It's founding a dynasty. Isn't that romantic enough for you? You make -me tired, Marion." - -Miss Scobell sighed again. - -"Very well, dear. I suppose you know best. But perhaps the Prince won't -like Betty." - -Mr. Scobell gave a snort of disgust. - -"Marion," he said, "you've got a mind like a chunk of wet dough. Can't -you understand that the Prince is just as much in my employment as the -man who scrubs the Casino steps? I'm hiring him to be Prince of Mervo, -and his first job as Prince of Mervo will be to marry Betty. I'd like -to see him kick!" He began to pace the room. "By Heck, it's going to -make this place boom to beat the band. It'll be the biggest kind of -advertisement. Restoration of Royalty at Mervo. That'll make them take -notice by itself. Then, biff! right on top of that, Royal -Romance--Prince Weds American Girl--Love at First Sight--Picturesque -Wedding! Gee, we'll wipe Monte Carlo clean off the map. We'll have 'em -licked to a splinter. We--It's the greatest scheme on earth." - -"I have no doubt you are right, Bennie," said Miss Scobell, "but--" her -voice became dreamy again--"it's not very romantic." - -"Oh, shucks!" said the schemer impatiently. "Here, where's a cable -form?" - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -YOUNG ADAM CUPID - - -On a red sandstone rock at the edge of the water, where the island -curved sharply out into the sea, Prince John of Mervo sat and brooded -on first causes. For nearly an hour and a half he had been engaged in -an earnest attempt to trace to its source the acute fit of depression -which had come--apparently from nowhere--to poison his existence that -morning. - -It was his seventh day on the island, and he could remember every -incident of his brief reign. The only thing that eluded him was the -recollection of the exact point when the shadow of discontent had begun -to spread itself over his mind. Looking back, it seemed to him that he -had done nothing during that week but enjoy each new aspect of his -position as it was introduced to his notice. Yet here he was, sitting -on a lonely rock, consumed with an unquenchable restlessness, a kind of -trapped sensation. Exactly when and exactly how Fate, that king of -gold-brick men, had cheated him he could not say; but he knew, with a -certainty that defied argument, that there had been sharp practise, and -that in an unguarded moment he had been induced to part with something -of infinite value in exchange for a gilded fraud. - -The mystery baffled him. He sent his mind back to the first definite -entry of Mervo into the foreground of his life. He had come up from his -stateroom on to the deck of the little steamer, and there in the -pearl-gray of the morning was the island, gradually taking definite -shape as the pink mists shredded away before the rays of the rising -sun. As the ship rounded the point where the lighthouse still flashed a -needless warning from its cluster of jagged rocks, he had had his first -view of the town, nestling at the foot of the hill, gleaming white -against the green, with the gold-domed Casino towering in its midst. In -all Southern Europe there was no view to match it for quiet beauty. For -all his thews and sinews there was poetry in John, and the sight had -stirred him like wine. - -It was not then that depression had begun, nor was it during the -reception at the quay. - -The days that had followed had been peaceful and amusing. He could not -detect in any one of them a sign of the approaching shadow. They had -been lazy days. His duties had been much more simple than he had -anticipated. He had not known, before he tried it, that it was possible -to be a prince with so small an expenditure of mental energy. As Mr. -Scobell had hinted, to all intents and purposes he was a mere ornament. -His work began at eleven in the morning, and finished as a rule at -about a quarter after. At the hour named a report of the happenings of -the previous day was brought to him. When he had read it the state -asked no more of him until the next morning. - -The report was made up of such items as "A fisherman named Lesieur -called Carbineer Ferrier a fool in the market-place at eleven minutes -after two this afternoon; he has not been arrested, but is being -watched," and generally gave John a few minutes of mild enjoyment. -Certainly he could not recollect that it had ever depressed him. - -No, it had been something else that had worked the mischief and in -another moment the thing stood revealed, beyond all question of doubt. -What had unsettled him was that unexpected meeting with Betty Silver -last night at the Casino. - -He had been sitting at the Dutch table. He generally visited the Casino -after dinner. The light and movement of the place interested him. As a -rule, he merely strolled through the rooms, watching the play; but last -night he had slipped into a vacant seat. He had only just settled -himself when he was aware of a girl standing beside him. He got up. - -"Would you care--?" he had begun, and then he saw her face. - -It had all happened in an instant. Some chord in him, numbed till then, -had begun to throb. It was as if he had awakened from a dream, or -returned to consciousness after being stunned. There was something in -the sight of her, standing there so cool and neat and composed, so -typically American, a sort of goddess of America, in the heat and stir -of the Casino, that struck him like a blow. - -How long was it since he had seen her last? Not more than a couple of -years. It seemed centuries. It all came back to him. It was during his -last winter at Harvard that they had met. A college friend of hers had -been the sister of a college friend of his. They had met several times, -but he could not recollect having taken any particular notice of her -then, beyond recognizing that she was certainly pretty. The world had -been full of pretty American girls then. But now-- - -He looked at her. And, as he looked, he heard America calling to him. -Mervo, by the appeal of its novelty, had caused him to forget. But now, -quite suddenly, he knew that he was homesick--and it astonished him, -the readiness with which he had permitted Mr. Crump to lead him away -into bondage. It seemed incredible that he had not foreseen what must -happen. - -Love comes to some gently, imperceptibly, creeping in as the tide, -through unsuspected creeks and inlets, creeps on a sleeping man, until -he wakes to find himself surrounded. But to others it comes as a wave, -breaking on them, beating them down, whirling them away. - -It was so with John. In that instant when their eyes met the miracle -must have happened. It seemed to him, as he recalled the scene now, -that he had loved her before he had had time to frame his first remark. -It amazed him that he could ever have been blind to the fact that he -loved her, she was so obviously the only girl in the world. - -"You--you don't remember me," he stammered. - -She was flushing a little under his stare, but her eyes were shining. - -"I remember you very well, Mr. Maude," she said with a smile. "I -thought I knew your shoulders before you turned round. What are you -doing here?" - -"I--" - -There was a hush. The _croupier_ had set the ball rolling. A -wizened little man and two ladies of determined aspect were looking up -disapprovingly. John realized that he was the only person in the room -not silent. It was impossible to tell her the story of the change in -his fortunes in the middle of this crowd. He stopped, and the moment -passed. - -The ball dropped with a rattle. The tension relaxed. - -"Won't you take this seat?" said John. - -"No, thank you. I'm not playing. I only just stopped to look on. My -aunt is in one of the rooms, and I want to make her come home. I'm -tired." - -"Have you--?" - -He caught the eye of the wizened man, and stopped again. - -"Have you been in Mervo long?" he said, as the ball fell. - -"I only arrived this morning. It seems lovely. I must explore -to-morrow." - -She was beginning to move off. - -"Er--" John coughed to remove what seemed to him a deposit of sawdust -and unshelled nuts in his throat. "Er--may I--will you let me show -you--" prolonged struggle with the nuts and sawdust; then -rapidly--"some of the places to-morrow?" - -He had hardly spoken the words when it was borne in upon him that he -was a vulgar, pushing bounder, presuming on a dead and buried -acquaintanceship to force his company on a girl who naturally did not -want it, and who would now proceed to snub him as he deserved. He -quailed. Though he had not had time to collect and examine and label -his feelings, he was sufficiently in touch with them to know that a -snub from her would be the most terrible thing that could possibly -happen to him. - -She did not snub him. Indeed, if he had been in a state of mind -coherent enough to allow him to observe, he might have detected in her -eyes and her voice signs of pleasure. - -"I should like it very much," she said. - -John made his big effort. He attacked the nuts and sawdust which had -come back and settled down again in company with a large lump of some -unidentified material, as if he were bucking center. They broke before -him as, long ago, the Yale line had done, and his voice rang out as if -through a megaphone, to the unconcealed disgust of the neighboring -gamesters. - -"If you go along the path at the foot of the hill," he bellowed -rapidly, "and follow it down to the sea, you get a little bay full of -red sandstone rocks--you can't miss it--and there's a fine view of the -island from there. I'd like awfully well to show that to you. It's -great." - -She nodded. - -"Then shall we meet there?" she said. "When?" - -John was in no mood to postpone the event. - -"As early as ever you like," he roared. - -"At about ten, then. Good-night, Mr. Maude." - - * * * * * - -John had reached the bay at half-past eight, and had been on guard -there ever since. It was now past ten, but still there were no signs of -Betty. His depression increased. He told himself that she had -forgotten. Then, that she had remembered, but had changed her mind. -Then, that she had never meant to come at all. He could not decide -which of the three theories was the most distressing. - -His mood became morbidly introspective. He was weighed down by a sense -of his own unworthiness. He submitted himself to a thorough -examination, and the conclusion to which he came was that, as an -aspirant to the regard, of a girl like Betty, he did not score a single -point. No wonder she had ignored the appointment. - -A cold sweat broke out on him. This was the snub! She had not -administered it in the Casino simply in order that, by being delayed, -its force might be the more overwhelming. - -He looked at his watch again, and the world grew black. It was twelve -minutes after ten. - -John, in his time, had thought and read a good deal about love. Ever -since he had grown up, he had wanted to fall in love. He had imagined -love as a perpetual exhilaration, something that flooded life with a -golden glow as if by the pressing of a button or the pulling of a -switch, and automatically removed from it everything mean and hard and -uncomfortable; a something that made a man feel grand and god-like, -looking down (benevolently, of course) on his fellow men as from some -lofty mountain. - -That it should make him feel a worm-like humility had not entered his -calculations. He was beginning to see something of the possibilities of -love. His tentative excursions into the unknown emotion, while at -college, had never really deceived him; even at the time a sort of -second self had looked on and sneered at the poor imitation. - -This was different. This had nothing to do with moonlight and soft -music. It was raw and hard. It hurt. It was a thing sharp and jagged, -tearing at the roots of his soul. - -He turned his head, and looked up the path for the hundredth time, and -this time he sprang to his feet. Between the pines on the hillside his -eye had caught the flutter of a white dress. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -MR. SCOBELL IS FRANK - - -Much may happen in these rapid times in the course of an hour and a -half. While John was keeping his vigil on the sandstone rock, Betty was -having an interview with Mr. Scobell which was to produce far-reaching -results, and which, incidentally, was to leave her angrier and more at -war with the whole of her world than she could remember to have been in -the entire course of her life. - -The interview began, shortly after breakfast, in a gentle and tactful -manner, with Aunt Marion at the helm. But Mr. Scobell was not the man -to stand by silently while persons were being tactful. At the end of -the second minute he had plunged through his sister's mild monologue -like a rhinoceros through a cobweb, and had stated definitely, with an -economy of words, the exact part which Betty was to play in Mervian -affairs. - -"You say you want to know why you were cabled for. I'll tell you. -There's no use talking for half a day before you get to the point. I -guess you've heard that there's a prince here instead of a republic -now? Well, that's where you come in." - -"Do you mean--?" she hesitated. - -"Yes, I do," said Mr. Scobell. There was a touch of doggedness in his -voice. He was not going to stand any nonsense, by Heck, but there was -no doubt that Betty's wide-open eyes were not very easy to meet. He -went on rapidly. "Cut out any fool notions about romance." Miss -Scobell, who was knitting a sock, checked her needles for a moment in -order to sigh. Her brother eyed her morosely, then resumed his remarks. -"This is a matter of state. That's it. You gotta cut out fool notions -and act for good of state. You gotta look at it in the proper spirit. -Great honor--see what I mean? Princess and all that. Chance of a -lifetime--dynasty--you gotta look at it that way." - -Miss Scobell heaved another sigh, and dropped a stitch. - -"For the love of Mike," said her brother, irritably, "don't snort like -that, Marion." - -"Very well, dear." - -Betty had not taken her eyes off him from his first word. An unbiased -observer would have said that she made a pretty picture, standing -there, in her white dress, but in the matter of pictures, still life -was evidently what Mr. Scobell preferred for his gaze never wandered -from the cigar stump which he had removed from his mouth in order to -knock off the ash. - -Betty continued to regard him steadfastly. The shock of his words had -to some extent numbed her. At this moment she was merely thinking, -quite dispassionately, what a singularly nasty little man he looked, -and wondering--not for the first time--what strange quality, invisible -to everybody else, it had been in him that had made her mother his -adoring slave during the whole of their married life. - -Then her mind began to work actively once more. She was a Western girl, -and an insistence on freedom was the first article in her creed. A -great rush of anger filled her, that this man should set himself up to -dictate to her. - -"Do you mean that you want me to marry this Prince?" she said. - -"That's right." - -"I won't do anything of the sort." - -"Pshaw! Don't be foolish. You make me tired." - -Betty's eye shone mutinously. Her cheeks were flushed, and her slim, -boyish figure quivered. Her chin, always determined, became a silent -Declaration of Independence. - -"I won't," she said. - -Aunt Marion, suspending operations on the sock, went on with tact at -the point where her brother's interruption had forced her to leave off. - -"I'm sure he's a very nice young man. I have not seen him, but -everybody says so. You like him, Bennie, don't you?" - -"Sure, I like him. He's a corker. Wait till you see him, Betty. -Nobody's asking you to marry him before lunch. You'll have plenty of -time to get acquainted. It beats me what you're kicking at. You give me -a pain in the neck. Be reasonable." - -Betty sought for arguments to clinch her refusal. - -"It's ridiculous," she said. "You talk as if you had just to wave your -hand. Why should your prince want to marry a girl he has never seen?" - -"He will," said Mr. Scobell confidently. - -"How do you know?" - -"Because I know he's a sensible young skeesicks. That's how. See here, -Betty, you've gotten hold of wrong ideas about this place. You don't -understand the position of affairs. Your aunt didn't till I put her -wise." - -"He bit my head off, my dear," murmured Miss Scobell, knitting -placidly. - -"You're thinking that Mervo is an ordinary state, and that the Prince -is one of those independent, all-wool, off-with-his-darned-head rulers -like you read about in the best sellers. Well, you've got another guess -coming. If you want to know who's the big noise here, it's me--me! This -Prince guy is my hired man. See? Who sent for him? I did. Who put him -on the throne? I did. Who pays him his salary? I do, from the profits -of the Casino. Now do you understand? He knows his job. He knows which -side his bread's buttered. When I tell him about this marriage, do you -know what he'll say? He'll say 'Thank you, sir!' That's how things are -in this island." - -Betty shuddered. Her face was white with humiliation. She half-raised -her hands with an impulsive movement to hide it. - -"I won't. I won't. I won't!" she gasped. - -Mr. Scobell was pacing the room in an ecstasy of triumphant rhetoric. - -"There's another thing," he said, swinging round suddenly and causing -his sister to drop another stitch. "Maybe you think he's some kind of a -Dago, this guy? Maybe that's what's biting you. Let me tell you that -he's an American--pretty near as much an American as you are yourself." - -Betty stared at him. - -"An American!" - -"Don't believe it, eh? Well, let me tell you that his mother was born -and raised in Jersey, and that he has lived all his life in the States. -He's no little runt of a Dago. No, sir. He's a Harvard man, six-foot -high and weighs two hundred pounds. That's the sort of man he is. I -guess that's not American enough for you, maybe? No?" - -"You do shout so, Bennie!" murmured Miss Scobell. "I'm sure there's no -need." - -Betty uttered a cry. Something had told her who he was, this Harvard -man who had sold himself. That species of sixth sense which lies -undeveloped at the back of our minds during the ordinary happenings of -life wakes sometimes in moments of keen emotion. At its highest, it is -prophecy; at its lowest, a vague presentiment. It woke in Betty now. -There was no particular reason why she should have connected her -stepfather's words with John. The term he had used was an elastic one. -Among the visitors to the island there were probably several Harvard -men. But somehow she knew. - -"Who is he?" she cried. "What was his name before he--when he--?" - -"His name?" said Mr. Scobell. "John Maude. Maude was his mother's name. -She was a Miss Westley. Here, where are you going?" - -Betty was walking slowly toward the door. Something in her face checked -Mr. Scobell. - -"I want to think," she said quietly. "I'm going out." - - * * * * * - -In days of old, in the age of legend, omens warned heroes of impending -doom. But to-day the gods have grown weary, and we rush unsuspecting on -our fate. No owl hooted, no thunder rolled from the blue sky as John -went up the path to meet the white dress that gleamed between the -trees. - -His heart was singing within him. She had come. She had not forgotten, -or changed her mind, or willfully abandoned him. His mood lightened -swiftly. Humility vanished. He was not such an outcast, after all. He -was someone. He was the man Betty Silver had come to meet. - -But with the sight of her face came reaction. - -Her face was pale and cold and hard. She did not speak or smile. As she -drew near she looked at him, and there was that in her look which set a -chill wind blowing through the world and cast a veil across the sun. - -And in this bleak world they stood silent and motionless while eons -rolled by. - -Betty was the first to speak. - -"I'm late," she said. - -John searched in his brain for words, and came empty away. He shook his -head dumbly. - -"Shall we sit down?" said Betty. - -John indicated silently the sandstone rock on which he had been -communing with himself. - -They sat down. A sense of being preposterously and indecently big -obsessed John. There seemed no end to him. Wherever he looked, there -were hands and feet and legs. He was a vast blot on the face of the -earth. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Betty. She was gazing -out to sea. - -He dived into his brain again. It was absurd! There must be something -to say. - -And then he realized that a worse thing had befallen. He had no voice. -It had gone. He knew that, try he never so hard to speak, he would not -be able to utter a word. A nightmare feeling of unreality came upon -him. Had he ever spoken? Had he ever done anything but sit dumbly on -that rock, looking at those sea gulls out in the water? - -He shot another swift glance at Betty, and a thrill went through him. -There were tears in her eyes. - -The next moment--the action was almost automatic--his left hand was -clasping her right, and he was moving along the rock to her side. - -She snatched her hand away. - -His brain, ransacked for the third time, yielded a single word. - -"Betty!" - -She got up quickly. - -In the confused state of his mind, John found it necessary if he were -to speak at all, to say the essential thing in the shortest possible -way. Polished periods are not for the man who is feeling deeply. - -He blurted out, huskily, "I love you!" and finding that this was all -that he could say, was silent. - -Even to himself the words, as he spoke them, sounded bald and -meaningless. To Betty, shaken by her encounter with Mr. Scobell, they -sounded artificial, as if he were forcing himself to repeat a lesson. -They jarred upon her. - -"Don't!" she said sharply. "Oh, don't!" - -Her voice stabbed him. It could not have stirred him more if she had -uttered a cry of physical pain. - -"Don't! I know. I've been told." - -"Been told?" - -She went on quickly. - -"I know all about it. My stepfather has just told me. He said--he said -you were his--" she choked--"his hired man; that he paid you to stay -here and advertise the Casino. Oh, it's too horrible! That it should be -you! You, who have been--you can't understand what you--have been to -me--ever since we met; you couldn't understand. I can't tell you--a -sort of help--something--something that--I can't put it into words. -Only it used to help me just to think of you. It was almost impersonal. -I didn't mind if I never saw you again. I didn't expect ever to see you -again. It was just being able to think of you. It helped--you were -something I could trust. Something strong--solid." She laughed -bitterly. "I suppose I made a hero of you. Girls are fools. But it -helped me to feel that there was one man alive who--who put his honor -above money--" - -She broke off. John stood motionless, staring at the ground. For the -first time in his easy-going life he knew shame. Even now he had not -grasped to the full the purport of her words. The scales were falling -from his eyes, but as yet he saw but dimly. - -She began to speak again, in a low, monotonous voice, almost as if she -were talking to herself. She was looking past him, at the gulls that -swooped and skimmed above the glittering water. - -"I'm so tired of money--money--money. Everything's money. Isn't there a -man in the world who won't sell himself? I thought that you--I suppose -I'm stupid. It's business, I suppose. One expects too much." - -She looked at him wearily. - -"Good-by," she said. "I'm going." - -He did not move. - -She turned, and went slowly up the path. Still he made no movement. A -spell seemed to be on him. His eyes never left her as she passed into -the shadow of the trees. For a moment her white dress stood out -clearly. She had stopped. With his whole soul he prayed that she would -look back. But she moved on once more, and was gone. And suddenly a -strange weakness came upon John. He trembled. The hillside flickered -before his eyes for an instant, and he clutched at the sandstone rock -to steady himself. - -Then his brain cleared, and he found himself thinking swiftly. He could -not let her go like this. He must overtake her. He must stop her. He -must speak to her. He must say--he did not know what it was that he -would say--anything, so that he spoke to her again. - -He raced up the path, calling her name. No answer came to his cries. -Above him lay the hillside, dozing in the noonday sun; below, the -Mediterranean, sleek and blue, without a ripple. He stood alone in a -land of silence and sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -AN ULTIMATUM FROM THE THRONE - - -At half-past twelve that morning business took Mr. Benjamin Scobell to -the royal Palace. He was not a man who believed in letting the grass -grow under his feet. He prided himself on his briskness of attack. -Every now and then Mr. Crump, searching the newspapers, would discover -and hand to him a paragraph alluding to his "hustling methods." When -this happened, he would preserve the clipping and carry it about in his -vest-pocket with his cigars till time and friction wore it away. He -liked to think of himself as swift and sudden--the Human Thunderbolt. - -In this matter of the royal alliance, it was his intention to have at -it and clear it up at once. Having put his views clearly before Betty, -he now proposed to lay them with equal clarity before the Prince. There -was no sense in putting the thing off. The sooner all parties concerned -understood the position of affairs, the sooner the business would be -settled. - -That Betty had not received his information with joy did not distress -him. He had a poor opinion of the feminine intelligence. Girls got their -minds full of nonsense from reading novels and seeing plays--like Betty. -Betty objected to those who were wiser than herself providing a perfectly -good prince for her to marry. Some fool notion of romance, of course. Not -that he was angry. He did not blame her any more than the surgeon blames -a patient for the possession of an unsuitable appendix. There was no -animus in the matter. Her mind was suffering from foolish ideas, and he -was the surgeon whose task it was to operate upon it. That was all. One -had to expect foolishness in women. It was their nature. The only thing -to do was to tie a rope to them and let them run around till they were -tired of it, then pull them in. He saw his way to managing Betty. - -Nor did he anticipate trouble with John. He had taken an estimate of -John's character, and it did not seem to him likely that it contained -unsuspected depths. He set John down, as he had told Betty, as a young -man acute enough to know when he had a good job and sufficiently -sensible to make concessions in order to retain it. Betty, after the -manner of woman, might make a fuss before yielding to the inevitable, -but from level-headed John he looked for placid acquiescence. - -His mood, as the automobile whirred its way down the hill toward the -town, was sunny. He looked on life benevolently and found it good. The -view appealed to him more than it had managed to do on other days. As a -rule, he was the man of blood and iron who had no time for admiring -scenery, but to-day he vouchsafed it a not unkindly glance. It was -certainly a dandy little place, this island of his. A vineyard on the -right caught his eye. He made a mental note to uproot it and run up a -hotel in its place. Further down the hill, he selected a site for a -villa, where the mimosa blazed, and another where at present there were -a number of utterly useless violets. A certain practical element was -apt, perhaps, to color Mr. Scobell's half-hours with nature. - -The sight of the steamboat leaving the harbor on its journey to -Marseilles gave him another idea. Now that Mervo was a going concern, a -real live proposition, it was high time that it should have an adequate -service of boats. The present system of one a day was absurd. He made a -note to look into the matter. These people wanted waking up. - -Arriving at the Palace, he was informed that His Highness had gone out -shortly after breakfast, and had not returned. The majordomo gave the -information with a tinkle of disapproval in his voice. Before taking up -his duties at Mervo, he had held a similar position in the household of -a German prince, where rigid ceremonial obtained, and John's cheerful -disregard of the formalities frankly shocked him. To take the present -case for instance: When His Highness of Swartzheim had felt inclined to -enjoy the air of a morning, it had been a domestic event full of stir -and pomp. He had not merely crammed a soft hat over his eyes and -strolled out with his hands in his pockets, but without a word to his -household staff as to where he was going or when he might be expected -to return. - -Mr. Scobell received the news equably, and directed his chauffeur to -return to the villa. He could not have done better, for, on his -arrival, he was met with the information that His Highness had called -to see him shortly after he had left, and was now waiting in the -morning-room. - -The sound of footsteps came to Mr. Scobell's ears as he approached the -room. His Highness appeared to be pacing the floor like a caged animal -at the luncheon hour. The resemblance was heightened by the expression -in the royal eye as His Highness swung round at the opening of the door -and faced the financier. - -"Why, say, Prince," said Mr. Scobell, "this is lucky. I been looking -for you. I just been to the Palace, and the main guy there told me you -had gone out." - -"I did. And I met your stepdaughter." - -Mr. Scobell was astonished. Fate was certainly smoothing his way if it -arranged meetings between Betty and the Prince before he had time to do -it himself. There might be no need for the iron hand after all. - -"You did?" he said. "Say, how the Heck did you come to do that? What -did you know about Betty?" - -"Miss Silver and I had met before, in America, when I was in college." - -Mr. Scobell slapped his thigh joyously. - -"Gee, it's all working out like a fiction story in the magazines!" - -"Is it?" said John. "How? And, for the matter of that, what?" - -Mr. Scobell answered question with question. "Say, Prince, you and -Betty were pretty good friends in the old days, I guess?" - -John looked at him coldly. - -"We won't discuss that, if you don't mind," he said. - -His tone annoyed Mr. Scobell. Off came the velvet glove, and the iron -hand displayed itself. His green eyes glowed dully and the tip of his -nose wriggled, as was its habit in times of emotion. - -"Is that so?" he cried, regarding John with disfavor. "Well, I guess! -Won't discuss it! You gotta discuss it, Your Royal Texas League -Highness! You want making a head shorter, my bucko. You--" - -John's demeanor had become so dangerous that he broke off abruptly, and -with an unostentatious movement, as of a man strolling carelessly about -his private sanctum, put himself within easy reach of the door handle. - -He then became satirical. - -"Maybe Your Serene, Imperial Two-by-Fourness would care to suggest a -subject we can discuss?" - -John took a step forward. - -"Yes, I will," he said between his teeth. "You were talking to Miss -Silver about me this morning. She told me one or two of the things you -said, and they opened my eyes. Until I heard them, I had not quite -understood my position. I do now. You said, among other things, that I -was your hired man." - -"It wasn't intended for you to hear," said Mr. Scobell, slightly -mollified, "and Betty shouldn't oughter have handed it to you. I don't -wonder you feel raw. I wouldn't say that sort of thing to a guy's face. -Sure, no. Tact's my middle name. But, since you have heard it, well--!" - -"Don't apologize. You were quite right. I was a fool not to see it -before. No description could have been fairer. You might have said much -more. You might have added that I was nothing more than a steerer for a -gambling hell." - -"Oh, come, Prince!" - -There was a knock at the door. A footman entered, bearing, with a -detached air, as if he disclaimed all responsibility, a letter on a -silver tray. - -Mr. Scobell slit the envelope, and began to read. As he did so his eyes -grew round, and his mouth slowly opened till his cigar stump, after -hanging for a moment from his lower lip, dropped off like an exhausted -bivalve and rolled along the carpet. - -"Prince," he gasped, "she's gone. Betty!" - -"Gone! What do you mean?" - -"She's beaten it. She's half-way to Marseilles by now. Gee, and I saw -the darned boat going out!" - -"She's gone!" - -"This is from her. Listen what she says: - - "_By the time you read this I shall be gone. I am going back - to America as quickly as I can. I am giving this to a boy to - take to you directly the boat has started. Please do not try - to bring me back. I would sooner die than marry the Prince._" - -John started violently. - -"What!" he cried. - -Mr. Scobell nodded sympathy. - -"That's what she says. She sure has it in bad for you. What does she -mean? Seeing you and she are old friends--" - -"I don't understand. Why does she say that to you? Why should she think -that you knew that I had asked her to marry me?" - -"Eh?" cried Mr. Scobell. "You asked her to marry you? And she turned -you down! Prince, this beats the band. Say, you and I must get together -and do something. The girl's mad. See here, you aren't wise to what's -been happening. I been fixing this thing up. I fetched you over here, -and then I fetched Betty, and I was going to have you two marry. I told -Betty all about it this morning." - -John cut through his explanations with a sudden sharp cry. A blinding -blaze of understanding had flashed upon him. It was as if he had been -groping his way in a dark cavern and had stumbled unexpectedly into -brilliant sunlight. He understood everything now. Every word that Betty -had spoken, every gesture that she had made, had become amazingly -clear. He saw now why she had shrunk back from him, why her eyes had -worn that look. He dared not face the picture of himself as he must -have appeared in those eyes, the man whom Mr. Benjamin Scobell's Casino -was paying to marry her, the hired man earning his wages by speaking -words of love. - -A feeling of physical sickness came over him. He held to the table for -support as he had held to the sandstone rock. And then came rage, rage -such as he had never felt before, rage that he had not thought himself -capable of feeling. It swept over him in a wave, pouring through his -veins and blinding him, and he clung to the table till his knuckles -whitened under the strain, for he knew that he was very near to murder. - -A minute passed. He walked to the window, and stood there, looking out. -Vaguely he heard Mr. Scobell's voice at his back, talking on, but the -words had no meaning for him. - -He had begun to think with a curious coolness. His detachment surprised -him. It was one of those rare moments in a man's life when, from the -outside, through a breach in that wall of excuses and self-deception -which he has been at such pains to build, he looks at himself -impartially. - -The sight that John saw through the wall was not comforting. It was not -a heroic soul that, stripped of its defenses, shivered beneath the -scrutiny. In another mood he would have mended the breach, excusing and -extenuating, but not now. He looked at himself without pity, and saw -himself weak, slothful, devoid of all that was clean and fine, and a -bitter contempt filled him. - -Outside the window, a blaze of color, Mervo smiled up at him, and -suddenly he found himself loathing its exotic beauty. He felt stifled. -This was no place for a man. A vision of clean winds and wide spaces -came to him. - -And just then, at the foot of the hill, the dome of the Casino caught -the sun, and flashed out in a blaze of gold. - -He swung round and faced Mr. Scobell. He had made up his mind. - -The financier was still talking. - -"So that's how it stands, Prince," he was saying, "and it's up to us to -get busy." - -John looked at him. - -"I intend to," he said. - -"Good boy!" said the financier. - -"To begin with, I shall run you out of this place, Mr. Scobell." - -The other gasped. - -"There is going to be a cleaning-up," John went on. "I've thought it -out. There will be no more gambling in Mervo." - -"You're crazy with the heat!" gasped Mr. Scobell. "Abolish gambling? -You can't." - -"I can. That concession of yours isn't worth the paper it's written on. -The Republic gave it to you. The Republic's finished. If you want to -conduct a Casino in Mervo, there's only one man who can give you -permission, and that's myself. The acts of the Republic are not binding -on me. For a week you have been gambling on this island without a -concession and now it's going to stop. Do you understand?" - -"But, Prince, talk sense." Mr. Scobell's voice was almost tearful. -"It's you who don't understand. Do, for the love of Mike, come down off -the roof and talk sense. Do you suppose that these guys here will stand -for this? Not on your life. Not for a minute. See here. I'm not blaming -you. I know you don't know what you're saying. But listen here. You -must cut out this kind of thing. You mustn't get these ideas in your -head. You stick to your job, and don't butt in on other folks'. Do you -know how long you'd stay Prince of this joint if you started in to -monkey with my Casino? Just about long enough to let you pack a -collar-stud and a toothbrush into your grip. And after that there -wouldn't be any more Prince, sonnie. You stick to your job and I'll -stick to mine. You're a mighty good Prince for all that's required of -you. You're ornamental, and you've got get-up in you. You just keep -right on being a good boy, and don't start trying stunts off your own -beat, and you'll do fine. Don't forget that I'm the big noise here. I'm -old Grayback from 'way back in Mervo. See! I've only to twiddle my -fingers and there'll be a revolution and you for the Down-and-Out Club. -Don't you forget it, sonnie." - -John shrugged his shoulders. - -"I've said all I have to say. You've had your notice to quit. After -to-night the Casino is closed." - -"But don't I tell you the people won't stand for it?" - -"That's for them to decide. They may have some self-respect." - -"They'll fire you!" - -"Very well. That will prove that they have not." - -"Prince, talk sense! You can't mean that you'll throw away a hundred -thousand dollars a year as if it was dirt!" - -"It is dirt when it's made that way. We needn't discuss it any more." - -"But, Prince!" - -"It's finished." - -"But, say--!" - -John had left the room. - -He had been gone several minutes before the financier recovered full -possession of his faculties. - -When he did, his remarks were brief and to the point. - -"Bug-house!" he gasped. "Abso-lutely bug-house!" - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -MERVO CHANGES ITS CONSTITUTION - - -Humor, if one looks into it, is principally a matter of retrospect. In -after years John was wont to look back with amusement on the revolution -which ejected him from the throne of his ancestors. But at the time its -mirthfulness did not appeal to him. He was in a frenzy of restlessness. -He wanted Betty. He wanted to see her and explain. Explanations could -not restore him to the place he had held in her mind, but at least they -would show her that he was not the thing he had appeared. - -Mervo had become a prison. He ached for America. But, before he could -go, this matter of the Casino must be settled. It was obvious that it -could only be settled in one way. He did not credit his subjects with -the high-mindedness that puts ideals first and money after. That -military and civilians alike would rally to a man round Mr. Scobell and -the Casino he was well aware. But this did not affect his determination -to remain till the last. If he went now, he would be like a boy who -makes a runaway ring at the doorbell. Until he should receive formal -notice of dismissal, he must stay, although every day had forty-eight -hours and every hour twice its complement of weary minutes. - -So he waited, chafing, while Mervo examined the situation, turned it -over in its mind, discussed it, slept upon it, discussed it again, and -displayed generally that ponderous leisureliness which is the Mervian's -birthright. - -Indeed, the earliest demonstration was not Mervian at all. It came from -the visitors to the island, and consisted of a deputation of four, -headed by the wizened little man, who had frowned at John in the Dutch -room on the occasion of his meeting with Betty, and a stolid individual -with a bald forehead and a walrus mustache. - -The tone of the deputation was, from the first, querulous. The wizened -man had constituted himself spokesman. He introduced the party--the -walrus as Colonel Finch, the others as Herr von Mandelbaum and Mr. -Archer-Cleeve. His own name was Pugh, and the whole party, like the -other visitors whom they represented, had, it seemed, come to Mervo, at -great trouble and expense, to patronize the tables, only to find these -suddenly, without a word of warning, withdrawn from their patronage. -And what the deputation wished to know was, What did it all mean? - -"We were amazed, sir--Your Highness," said Mr. Pugh. "We could not--we -cannot--understand it. The entire thing is a baffling mystery to us. We -asked the soldiers at the door. They referred us to Mr. Scobell. We -asked Mr. Scobell. He referred us to you. And now we have come, as the -representatives of our fellow visitors to this island, to ask Your -Highness what it means!" - -"Have a cigar," said John, extending the box. Mr. Pugh waved aside the -preferred gift impatiently. Not so Herr von Mandelbaum, who slid -forward after the manner of one in quest of second base and retired -with his prize to the rear of the little army once more. - -Mr. Archer-Cleeve, a young man with carefully parted fair hair and the -expression of a strayed sheep, contributed a remark. - -"No, but I say, by Jove, you know, I mean really, you know, what?" - -That was Mr. Archer-Cleeve upon the situation. - -"We have not come here for cigars," said Mr. Pugh. "We have come here, -Your Highness, for an explanation." - -"Of what?" said John. - -Mr. Pugh made an impatient gesture. - -"Do you question my right to rule this massive country as I think best, -Mr. Pugh?" - -"It is a high-handed proceeding," said the wizened little man. - -The walrus spoke for the first time. - -"What say?" he murmured huskily. - -"I said," repeated Mr. Pugh, raising his voice, "that it was a -high-handed proceeding, Colonel." - -The walrus nodded heavily, in assent, with closed eyes. - -"Yah," said Herr von Mandelbaum through the smoke. - -John looked at the spokesman. - -"You are from England, Mr. Pugh?" - -"Yes, sir. I am a British citizen." - -"Suppose some enterprising person began to run a gambling hell in -Piccadilly, would the authorities look on and smile?" - -"That is an entirely different matter, sir. You are quibbling. In -England gambling is forbidden by law." - -"So it is in Mervo, Mr. Pugh." - -"Tchah!" - -"What say?" said the walrus. - -"I said 'Tchah!' Colonel." - -"Why?" said the walrus. - -"Because His Highness quibbled." - -The walrus nodded approvingly. - -"His Highness did nothing of the sort," said John. "Gambling is -forbidden in Mervo for the same reason that it is forbidden in England, -because it demoralizes the people." - -"This is absurd, sir. Gambling has been permitted in Mervo for nearly a -year." - -"But not by me, Mr. Pugh. The Republic certainly granted Mr. Scobell a -concession. But, when I came to the throne, it became necessary for him -to get a concession from me. I refused it. Hence the closed doors." - -Mr. Archer-Cleeve once more. "But--" He paused. "Forgotten what I was -going to say," he said to the room at large. - -Herr von Mandelbaum made some remark at the back of his throat, but was -ignored. - -John spoke again. - -"If you were a prince, Mr. Pugh, would you find it pleasant to be in -the pay of a gambling hell?" - -"That is neither here nor--" - -"On the contrary, it is, very much. I happen to have some self-respect. -I've only just found it out, it's true, but it's there all right. I -don't want to be a prince--take it from me, it's a much overrated -profession--but if I've got to be one, I'll specialize. I won't combine -it with being a bunco steerer on the side. As long as I am on the -throne, this high-toned crap-shooting will continue a back number." - -"What say?" said the walrus. - -"I said that, while I am on the throne here, people who feel it -necessary to chant 'Come, little seven!' must do it elsewhere." - -"I don't understand you," said Mr. Pugh. "Your remarks are absolutely -unintelligible." - -"Never mind. My actions speak for themselves. It doesn't matter how I -describe it--what it comes to is that the Casino is closed. You can -follow that? Mervo is no longer running wide open. The lid is on." - -"Then let me tell you, sir--" Mr. Pugh brought a bony fist down with a -thump on the table--"that you are playing with fire. Understand me, -sir, we are not here to threaten. We are a peaceful deputation of -visitors. But I have observed your people, sir. I have watched them -narrowly. And let me tell you that you are walking on a volcano. -Already there are signs of grave discontent." - -"Already!" cried John. "Already's good. I guess they call it going some -in this infernal country if they can keep awake long enough to take -action within a year after a thing has happened. I don't know if you -have any influence with the populace, Mr. Pugh--you seem a pretty warm -and important sort of person--but, if you have, do please ask them as a -favor to me to get a move on. It's no good saying that I'm walking on a -volcano. I'm from Missouri. I want to be shown. Let's see this volcano. -Bring it out and make it trot around." - -"You may jest--" - -"Who's jesting? I'm not. It's a mighty serious thing for me. I want to -get away. The only thing that's keeping me in this forsaken place is -this delay. These people are obviously going to fire me sooner or -later. Why on earth can't they do it at once?" - -"What say?" said the walrus. - -"You may well ask, Colonel," said Mr. Pugh, staring amazed at John. -"His Highness appears completely to have lost his senses." - -The walrus looked at John as if expecting some demonstration of -practical insanity, but, finding him outwardly calm, closed his eyes -and nodded heavily again. - -"I must say, don't you know," said Mr. Archer-Cleeve, "it beats me, -what?" - -The entire deputation seemed to consider that John's last speech needed -footnotes. - -John was in no mood to supply them. His patience was exhausted. - -"I guess we'll call this conference finished," he said. "You've been -told all you came to find out,--my reason for closing the Casino. If it -doesn't strike you as a satisfactory reason, that's up to you. Do what -you like about it. The one thing you may take as a solid fact--and you -can spread it around the town as much as ever you please--is that it is -closed, and is not going to be reopened while I'm ruler here." - -The deputation then withdrew, reluctantly. - - * * * * * - -On the following morning there came a note from Mr. Scobell. It was -brief. "Come on down before the shooting begins," it ran. John tore it -up. - -It was on the same evening that definite hostilities may be said to -have begun. - -Between the Palace and the market-place there was a narrow street of -flagged stone, which was busy during the early part of the day but -deserted after sundown. Along this street, at about seven o'clock, John -was strolling with a cigarette, when he was aware of a man crouching, -with his back toward him. So absorbed was the man in something which he -was writing on the stones that he did not hear John's approach, and the -latter, coming up from behind was enabled to see over his shoulder. In -large letters of chalk he read the words: _"Conspuez le Prince."_ - -John's knowledge of French was not profound, but he could understand -this, and it annoyed him. - -As he looked, the man, squatting on his heels, bent forward to touch -up one of the letters. If he had been deliberately posing, he could -not have assumed a more convenient attitude. - -John had been a footballer before he was a prince. The temptation was -too much for him. He drew back his foot-- - -There was a howl and a thud, and John resumed his stroll. The first gun -from Fort Sumter had been fired. - - * * * * * - -Early next morning a window at the rear of the palace was broken by a -stone, and toward noon one of the soldiers on guard in front of the -Casino was narrowly missed by an anonymous orange. For Mervo this was -practically equivalent to the attack on the Bastille, and John, when -the report of the atrocities was brought to him, became hopeful. - -But the effort seemed temporarily to have exhausted the fury of the -mob. The rest of that day and the whole of the next passed without -sensation. - -After breakfast on the following morning Mr. Crump paid a visit to the -Palace. John was glad to see him. The staff of the Palace were loyal, -but considered as cheery companions, they were handicapped by the fact -that they spoke no English, while John spoke no French. - -Mr. Crump was the bearer of another note from Mr. Scobell. This time -John tore it up unread, and, turning to the secretary, invited him to -sit down and make himself at home. - -Sipping a cocktail and smoking one of John's cigars, Mr. Crump became -confidential. - -"This is a queer business," he said. "Old Ben is chewing pieces out of -the furniture up there. He's mad clean through. He's losing money all -the while the people are making up their minds about this thing, and it -beats him why they're so slow." - -"It beats me, too. I don't believe these hook-worm victims ever turned -my father out. Or, if they did, somebody must have injected radium into -them first. I'll give them another couple of days, and, if they haven't -fixed it by then, I'll go, and leave them to do what they like about -it." - -"Go! Do you want to go?" - -"Of course I want to go! Do you think I like stringing along in this -musical comedy island? I'm crazy to get back to America. I don't blame -you, Crump, because it was not your fault, but, by George! if I had -known what you were letting me in for when you carried me off here, I'd -have called up the police reserves. Hello! What's this?" - -He rose to his feet as the sound of agitated voices came from the other -side of the door. The next moment it flew open, revealing General -Poineau and an assorted group of footmen and other domestics. -Excitement seemed to be in the air. - -General Poineau rushed forward into the room, and flung his arms above -his head. Then he dropped them to his side, and shrugged his shoulders, -finishing in an attitude reminiscent of Plate 6 ("Despair") in "The -Home Reciter." - -"_Mon Prince!"_ he moaned. - -A perfect avalanche of French burst from the group outside the door. - -"Crump!" cried John. "Stand by me, Crump! Get busy! This is where you -make your big play. Never mind the chorus gentlemen in the passage. -Concentrate yourself on Poineau. What's he talking about? I believe -he's come to tell me the people have wakened up. Offer him a cocktail. -What's the French for corpse-reviver? Get busy, Crump." - -The general had begun to speak rapidly, with a wealth of gestures. It -astonished John that Mr. Crump could follow the harangue as apparently -he did. - -"Well?" said John. - -Mr. Crump looked grave. - -"He says there is a large mob in the market-place. They are talking--" - -"They would be!" - -"--of moving in force on the Palace. The Palace Guards have gone over -to the people. General Poineau urges you to disguise yourself and -escape while there is time. You will be safe at his villa till the -excitement subsides, when you can be smuggled over to France during the -night--" - -"Not for mine," said John, shaking his head. "It's mighty good of you, -General, and I appreciate it, but I can't wait till night. The boat -leaves for Marseilles in another hour. I'll catch that. I can manage it -comfortably. I'll go up and pack my grip. Crump, entertain the General -while I'm gone, will you? I won't be a moment." - -But as he left the room there came through the open window the mutter -of a crowd. He stopped. General Poineau whipped out his sword, and -brought it to the salute. John patted him on the shoulder. - -"You're a sport, General," he said, "but we sha'n't want it. Come -along, Crump. Come and help me address the multitude." - -The window of the room looked out on to a square. There was a small -balcony with a stone parapet. As John stepped out, a howl of rage burst -from the mob. - -John walked on to the balcony, and stood looking down on them, resting -his arms on the parapet. The howl was repeated, and from somewhere at -the back of the crowd came the sharp crack of a rifle, and a shot, the -first and last of the campaign, clipped a strip of flannel from the -collar of his coat and splashed against the wall. - -A broad smile spread over his face. - -If he had studied for a year, he could not have hit on a swifter or -more effective method of quieting the mob. There was something so -engaging and friendly in his smile that the howling died away and fists -that has been shaken unclenched themselves and fell. There was an -expectant silence in the square. - -John beckoned to Crump, who came on to the balcony with some -reluctance, being mistrustful of the unseen sportsman with the rifle. - -"Tell 'em it's all right, Crump, and that there's no call for any fuss. -From their manner I gather that I am no longer needed on this throne. -Ask them if that's right?" - -A small man, who appeared to be in command of the crowd, stepped -forward as the secretary finished speaking, and shouted some words -which drew a murmur of approval from his followers. - -"He wants to know," interpreted Mr. Crump, "if you will allow the -Casino to open again." - -"Tell him no, but add that I shall be tickled to death to abdicate, if -that's what they want. Speed them up, old man. Tell them to make up -their minds on the jump, because I want to catch that boat. Don't let -them get to discussing it, or they'll stand there talking till sunset. -Yes or no. That's the idea." - -There was a moment's surprised silence when Mr. Crump had spoken. The -Mervian mind was unused to being hustled in this way. Then a voice -shouted, as it were tentatively, "_Vive la Republique!"_ and at -once the cry was taken up on all sides. - -John beamed down on them. - -"That's right," he said. "Bully! I knew you could get a move on as -quick as anyone else, if you gave your minds to it. This is what I call -something like a revolution. It's a model to every country in the -world. But I guess we must close down the entertainment now, or I shall -be missing the boat. Will you tell them, Crump, that any citizen who -cares for a drink and a cigar will find it in the Palace. Tell the -household staff to stand by to pull corks. It's dry work -revolutionizing. And now I really must be going. I've run it mighty -fine. Slip one of these fellows down there half a dollar and send him -to fetch a cab. I must step lively." - - * * * * * - -Five minutes later the revolutionists, obviously embarrassed and ill at -ease, were sheepishly gulping down their refreshment beneath the stony -eye of the majordomo and his assistants, while upstairs in the state -bedroom the deposed Prince was whistling "Dixie" and packing the royal -pajamas into a suitcase. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -MRS. OAKLEY - - -Betty, when she stepped on board the boat for Marseilles, had had no -definite plan of action. She had been caught up and swept away by an -over-mastering desire for escape that left no room in her mind for -thoughts of the morrow. It was not till the train was roaring its way -across southern France that she found herself sufficiently composed to -review her position and make plans. - -She would not go back. She could not. The words she had used in her -letter to Mr. Scobell were no melodramatic rhetoric. They were a plain -and literal statement of the truth. Death would be infinitely -preferable to life at Mervo on her stepfather's conditions. - -But, that settled, what then? What was she to do? The gods are -businesslike. They sell; they do not give. And for what they sell they -demand a heavy price. We may buy life of them in many ways: with our -honor, our health, our independence, our happiness, with our brains or -with our hands. But somehow or other, in whatever currency we may -choose to pay it, the price must be paid. - -Betty faced the problem. What had she? What could she give? Her -independence? That, certainly. She saw now what a mockery that fancied -independence had been. She had come and gone as she pleased, her path -smoothed by her stepfather's money, and she had been accustomed to -consider herself free. She had learned wisdom now, and could understand -that it was only by sacrificing such artificial independence that she -could win through to freedom. The world was a market, and the only -independent people in it were those who had a market value. - -What was her market value? What could she do? She looked back at her -life, and saw that she had dabbled. She had a little of most -things--enough of nothing. She could sketch a little, play a little, -sing a little, write a little. Also--and, as she remembered it, she -felt for the first time a tremor of hope--she could use a typewriter -reasonably well. That one accomplishment stood out in the welter of her -thoughts, solid and comforting, like a rock in a quicksand. It was -something definite, something marketable, something of value for which -persons paid. - -The tremor of hope did not comfort her long. Her mood was critical, and -she saw that in this, her one accomplishment, she was, as in everything -else, an amateur. She could not compete against professionals. She -closed her eyes, and had a momentary vision of those professionals, -keen of face, leathern of finger, rattling out myriads of words at a -dizzy speed. And, at that, all her courage suddenly broke; she drooped -forlornly, and, hiding her face on the cushioned arm-rest, she began to -cry. - -Tears are the Turkish bath of the soul. Nature never intended woman to -pass dry-eyed through crises of emotion. A casual stranger, meeting -Betty on her way to the boat, might have thought that she looked a -little worried,--nothing more. The same stranger, if he had happened to -enter the compartment at this juncture, would have set her down at -sight as broken-hearted beyond recovery. Yet such is the magic of tears -that it was at this very moment that Betty was beginning to be -conscious of a distinct change for the better. Her heart still ached, -and to think of John even for an instant was to feel the knife turning -in the wound, but her brain was clear; the panic fear had gone, and she -faced the future resolutely once more. For she had just remembered the -existence of Mrs. Oakley. - - * * * * * - -Only once in her life had Betty met her stepfather's celebrated aunt, -and the meeting had taken place nearly twelve years ago. The figure -that remained in her memory was of a pale-eyed, grenadier-like old -lady, almost entirely surrounded by clocks. It was these clocks that -had impressed her most. She was too young to be awed by the knowledge -that the tall old woman who stared at her just like a sandy cat she had -once possessed was one of the three richest women in the whole wide -world. She only remembered thinking that the finger which emerged from -the plaid shawl and prodded her cheek was unpleasantly bony. But the -clocks had absorbed her. It was as if all the clocks in the world had -been gathered together into that one room. There had been big clocks, -with almost human faces; small, perky clocks; clocks of strange shape; -and one dingy, medium-sized clock in particular which had made her cry -out with delight. Her visit had chanced to begin shortly before eleven -in the morning, and she had not been in the room ten minutes before -there was a whirring, and the majority of the clocks began to announce -the hour, each after its own fashion--some with a slow bloom, some with -a rapid, bell-like sound. But the medium-sized clock, unexpectedly -belying its appearance of being nothing of particular importance, had -performed its task in a way quite distinct from the others. It had -suddenly produced from its interior a shabby little gold man with a -trumpet, who had blown eleven little blasts before sliding backward -into his house and shutting the door after him. Betty had waited in -rapt silence till he finished, and had then shouted eagerly for more. - -Just as the beginner at golf may effect a drive surpassing that of the -expert, so may a child unconsciously eclipse the practised courtier. -There was no soft side to Mrs. Oakley's character, as thousands of -suave would-be borrowers had discovered in their time, but there was a -soft spot. To general praise of her collection of clocks she was -impervious; it was unique, and she did not require you to tell her so, -but exhibit admiration for the clock with the little trumpeter, and she -melted. It was the one oasis of sentiment in the Sahara of her mental -outlook, the grain of radium in the pitchblende. Years ago it had stood -in a little New England farmhouse, and a child had clapped her hands -and shouted, even as Betty had done, when the golden man slid from his -hiding-place. Much water had flowed beneath the bridge since those -days. Many things had happened to the child. But she still kept her old -love for the trumpeter. The world knew nothing of this. The world, if -it had known, would have been delighted to stand before the clock and -admire it volubly, by the day. But it had no inkling of the trumpeter's -importance, and, when it came to visit Mrs. Oakley, was apt to waste -its time showering compliments on the obvious beauties of the queens of -the collection. - -But Betty, ignoring these, jumped up and down before the dingy clock, -demanding further trumpetings, and, turning to Mrs. Oakley, as one -possessing influence, she was aware of a curious, intent look in the -old lady's eyes. - -"Do you like that clock, my dear?" said Mrs. Oakley. - -"Yes! Oh, yes!" - -"Perhaps you shall have it some day, honey." - -Betty was probably the only person who had been admitted to that room -who would not, on the strength of this remark, have steered the -conversation gently to the subject of a small loan. Instead, she ran to -the old lady, and kissed her. And, as to what had happened after that, -memory was vague. There had been some talk, she remembered, of a dollar -to buy candy, but it had come to nothing, and now that she had grown -older and had read the frequent paragraphs and anecdotes that appeared -in the papers about her stepfather's aunt, she could understand why. -She knew now what everybody knew of Mrs. Oakley--her history, her -eccentricities, and the miserliness of which the papers spoke with a -satirical lightness that seemed somehow but a thin disguise for what -was almost admiration. - -Mrs. Oakley was one of two children, a son and a daughter, of a Vermont -farmer. Of her early life no records remain. Her public history begins -when she was twenty-two and came to New York. After two years' -struggling, she found a position in the firm of one Redgrave. Those who -knew her then speak of her as a tall, handsome girl, hard and intensely -ambitious. From contemporary accounts she seems to have out-Nietzsched -Nietzsche. Nietzsche's vision stopped short at the superman. Jane -Scobell was a superwoman. She had all the titanic selfishness and -indifference to the comfort of others which marks the superman, and, in -addition, undeniable good looks and a knowledge of the weaknesses of -men. Poor Mr. Redgrave had not had a chance from the start. She married -him within a year. Two years later, catching the bulls in an unguarded -moment, Mr. Redgrave despoiled them of a trifle over three million -dollars, and died the same day of an apoplectic stroke caused by the -excitement of victory. His widow, after a tour in Europe, returned to -the United States and visited Pittsburg. Any sociologist will support -the statement that it is difficult, almost impossible, for an -attractive widow, visiting Pittsburg, not to marry a millionaire, even -if she is not particularly anxious to do so. If such an act is the -primary object of her visit, the thing becomes a certainty. Groping -through the smoke, Jane Redgrave seized and carried off no less a -quarry than Alexander Baynes Oakley, a widower, whose income was one of -the seven wonders of the world. In the fullness of time he, too, died, -and Jane Oakley was left with the sole control of two vast fortunes. - -She did not marry again, though it was rumored that it took three -secretaries, working nine hours a day, to cope with the written -proposals, and that butler after butler contracted clergyman's sore -throat through denying admittance to amorous callers. In the ten years -after Alexander Baynes' death, every impecunious aristocrat in the -civilized world must have made his dash for the matrimonial pole. But -her pale eyes looked them over, and dismissed them. - -During those early years she was tempted once or twice to speculation. -A failure in a cotton deal not only cured her of this taste, but seems -to have marked the point in her career when her thoughts began to turn -to parsimony. Until then she had lived in some state, but now, -gradually at first, then swiftly, she began to cut down her expenses. -Now we find her in an apartment in West Central Park, next in a -Washington Square hotel, then in a Harlem flat, and finally--her last, -fixed abiding-place--in a small cottage on Staten Island. - -It was a curious life that she led, this woman who could have bought -kingdoms if she had willed it. A Swedish maid-of-all-work was her only -companion. By day she would walk in her little garden, or dust, arrange -and wind up her clocks. At night, she would knit, or read one of the -frequent reports that arrived at the cottage from charity workers on -the East Side. Those were her two hobbies, and her only -extravagances--clocks and charity. - -Her charity had its limitations. In actual money she expended little. -She was a theoretical philanthropist. She lent her influence, her time, -and her advice, but seldom her bank balance. Arrange an entertainment -for the delectation of the poor, and you would find her on the -platform, but her name would not be on the list of subscribers to the -funds. She would deliver a lecture on thrift to an audience of factory -girls, and she would give them a practical example of what she -preached. - -Yet, with all its limitations, her charity was partly genuine. Her mind -was like a country in the grip of civil war. One-half of her sincerely -pitied the poor, burned at any story of oppression, and cried "Give!" -but the other cried "Halt!" and held her back, and between the two she -fell. - - * * * * * - -It was to this somewhat unpromising haven of refuge that Betty's mind -now turned in her trouble. She did not expect great things. She could -not have said exactly what she did expect. But, at least, the cottage -on Staten Island offered a resting-place on her journey, even if it -could not be the journey's end. Her mad dash from Mervo ceased to be -objectless. It led somewhere. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -A LETTER OF INTRODUCTION - - -New York, revisited, had much the same effect on Betty as it had had on -John during his first morning of independence. As the liner came up the -bay, and the great buildings stood out against the clear blue of the -sky, she felt afraid and lonely. That terror which is said to attack -immigrants on their first sight of the New York sky-line came to her, -as she leaned on the rail, and with it a feeling of utter misery. By a -continual effort during the voyage she had kept her thoughts from -turning to John, but now he rose up insistently before her, and she -realized all that had gone out of her life. - -She rebelled against the mad cruelty of the fate which had brought them -together again. It seemed to her now that she must always have loved -him, but it had been such a vague, gentle thing, this love, before that -last meeting--hardly more than a pleasant accompaniment to her life, -something to think about in idle moments, a help and a support when -things were running crosswise. She had been so satisfied with it, so -content to keep him a mere memory. It seemed so needless and wanton to -destroy her illusion. - -Of love as a wild-beast passion, tearing and torturing quite ordinary -persons like herself, she had always been a little sceptical. The great -love poems of the world, when she read them, had always left her with -the feeling that their authors were of different clay from herself and -had no common meeting ground with her. She had seen her friends fall in -love, as they called it, and it had been very pretty and charming, but -as far removed from the frenzies of the poets as an amateur's snapshot -of Niagara from the cataract itself. Elsa Keith, for instance, was -obviously very fond and proud of Marvin, but she seemed perfectly -placid about it. She loved, but she could still spare half an hour for -the discussion of a new frock. Her soul did not appear to have been -revolutionized in any way. - -Gradually Betty had come to the conclusion that love, in the full sense -of the word, was one of the things that did not happen. And now, as if -to punish her presumption, it had leaped from hiding and seized her. - -There was nothing exaggerated or unintelligible in the poets now. They -ceased to be inhabitants of another world, swayed by curiously complex -emotions. They were her brothers--ordinary men with ordinary feelings -and a strange gift for expressing them. She knew now that it was -possible to hate the man you loved and to love the man you hated, to -ache for the sight of someone even while you fled from him. - -It did not take her long to pass the Customs. A small grip constituted -her entire baggage. Having left this in the keeping of the amiable -proprietor of a near-by delicatessen store, she made her way to the -ferry. - -Her first enquiry brought her to the cottage. Mrs. Oakley was a -celebrity on Staten Island. - -At the door she paused for a moment, then knocked. - -The Swede servant, she who had been there at her former visit, twelve -years ago, received her stolidly. Mrs. Oakley was dusting her clocks. - -"Ask her if she can see me," said Betty. "I'm--" great step-niece -sounded too ridiculous--"I'm her niece," she said. - -The handmaid went and returned, stolid as ever. "Ay tal her vat yu say -about niece, and she say she not knowing any niece," she announced. - -Betty amended the description, and presently the Swede returned once -more, and motioned her to enter. - -Like so many scenes of childhood, the room of the clocks was sharply -stamped on Betty's memory, and, as she came into it now, it seemed to -her that nothing had changed. There were the clocks, all round the -walls, of every shape and size, the big clocks with the human faces and -the small, perky clocks. There was the dingy, medium-sized clock that -held the trumpeter. And there, looking at her with just the old -sandy-cat expression in her pale eyes, was Mrs. Oakley. - -Even the possession of an income of eighteen million dollars and a -unique collection of clocks cannot place a woman above the making of -the obvious remark. - -"How you have grown!" said Mrs. Oakley. - -The words seemed to melt the chill that had gathered around Betty's -heart. She had been prepared to enter into long explanations, and the -knowledge that these would not be required was very comforting. - -"Do you remember me?" she exclaimed. - -"You are the little girl who clapped her hands at the trumpeter, but -you are not little now." - -"I'm not so very big," said Betty, smiling. She felt curiously at home, -and pity for the loneliness of this strange old woman caused her to -forget her own troubles. - -"You look pretty when you smile," said Mrs. Oakley thoughtfully. She -continued to look closely at her. "You are in trouble," she said. - -Betty met her eyes frankly. - -"Yes," she said. - -The old woman bent her head over a Sevres china clock, and stroked it -tenderly with her feather duster. - -"Why did you run away?" she asked without looking up. - -Betty had a feeling that the ground was being cut from beneath her -feet. She had expected to have to explain who she was and why she had -come, and behold, both were unnecessary. It was uncanny. And then the -obvious explanation occurred to her. - -"Did my stepfather cable?" she asked. - -Mrs. Oakley laid down the feather duster and, opening a drawer, -produced some sheets of paper--to the initiated eye plainly one of Mr. -Scobell's lengthy messages. - -"A wickedly extravagant cable," she said, frowning at it. "He could -have expressed himself perfectly well at a quarter of the expense." - -Betty began to read. The dimple on her chin appeared for a moment as -she did so. The tone of the message was so obsequious. There was no -trace of the old peremptory note in it. The words "dearest aunt" -occurred no fewer than six times in the course of the essay, its author -being apparently reckless of the fact that it was costing him half a -dollar a time. Mrs. Oakley had been quite right in her criticism. The -gist of the cable was, "_Betty has run away to America dearest aunt -ridiculous is sure to visit you please dearest aunt do not encourage -her_." The rest was pure padding. - -Mrs. Oakley watched her with a glowering eye. "If Bennie Scobell," she -soliloquized, "imagines that he can dictate to me--" She ceased, -leaving an impressive hiatus. Unhappy Mr. Scobell, convicted of -dictation even after three dollars' worth of "dearest aunt!" - -Betty handed back the cable. Her chin, emblem of war, was tilted and -advanced. - -"I'll tell you why I ran away, Aunt," she said. - -Mrs. Oakley listened to her story in silence. Betty did not relate it -at great length, for with every word she spoke, the thought of John -stabbed her afresh. She omitted much that has been told in this -chronicle. But she disclosed the essential fact, that Napoleonic Mr. -Scobell had tried to force her into a marriage with a man she did -not--she hesitated at the word--did not respect, she concluded. - -Mrs. Oakley regarded her inscrutably for a while before replying. - -"Respect!" she said at last. "I have never met a man in my life whom I -could respect. Harpies! Every one of them! Every one of them! Every one -of them!" - -She was muttering to herself. It is possible that her thoughts were -back with those persevering young aristocrats of her second widowhood. -Certainly, if she had sometimes displayed a touch of the pirate in her -dealings with man, man, it must be said in fairness, had not always -shown his best side to her. - -"Respect!" she muttered again. "Did you like him, this Prince of -yours?" - -Betty's eyes filled. She made no reply. - -"Well, never mind," said Mrs. Oakley. "Don't cry, child! I'm not going -to press you. You must have hated him or else loved him very much, or -you would never have run away.... Dictate to me!" she broke off, -half-aloud, her mind evidently once more on Mr. Scobell's unfortunate -cable. - -Betty could bear it no longer. - -"I loved him!" she cried. "I loved him!" - -She was shaking with dry sobs. She felt the old woman's eyes upon her, -but she could not stop. - -A sudden whirr cut through the silence. One of the large clocks near -the door was beginning to strike the hour. Instantly the rest began to -do the same, till the room was full of the noise. And above the din -there sounded sharp and clear the note of the little trumpet. - -The noise died away with metallic echoings. - -"Honey!" - -It was a changed voice that spoke. Betty looked up, and saw that the -eyes that met hers were very soft. She moved quickly to the old woman's -side. - -"Honey, I'm going to tell you something about myself that nobody dreams -of. Betty, when I was your age, _I_ ran away from a man because I -loved him. It was just a little village tragedy, my dear. I think he -was fond of me, but father was poor and her folks were the great people -of the place, and he married her. And I ran away, like you, and went to -New York." - -Betty pressed her hand. It was trembling. - -"I'm so sorry," she whispered. - -"I went to New York because I wanted to kill my heart. And I killed it. -There's only one way. Work! Work! Work!" She was sitting bolt upright, -and the soft look had gone out of her eyes. They were hard and fiery -under the drawn brows. "Work! Ah, I worked! I never rested. For two -years. Two whole years. It fought back at me. It tore me to bits. But I -wouldn't stop. I worked on, I killed it." - -She stopped, quivering. Betty was cold with a nameless dismay. She felt -as if she were standing in the dark on the brink of an abyss. - -The old woman began to speak again. - -"Child, it's the same with you. Your heart's tearing you. Don't let it! -It will get worse and worse if you are afraid of it. Fight it! Kill it! -Work!" - -She stopped again, clenching and unclenching her fingers, as if she -were strangling some living thing. There was silence for a long moment. - -"What can you do?" she asked suddenly. - -Her voice was calm and unemotional again. The abruptness of the -transition from passion to the practical took Betty aback. She could -not speak. - -"There must be something," continued Mrs. Oakley. "When I was your age -I had taught myself bookkeeping, shorthand, and typewriting. What can -you do? Can you use a typewriter?" - -Blessed word! - -"Yes," said Betty promptly. - -"Well?" - -"Not very well?" - -"H'm. Well, I expect you will do it well enough for Mr. Renshaw--on my -recommendation. I'll give you a letter to him. He is the editor of a -small weekly paper. I don't know how much he will offer you, but take -it and _work!_ You'll find him pleasant. I have met him at charity -organization meetings on the East Side. He's useful at the -entertainments--does conjuring tricks--stupid, but they seem to amuse -people. You'll find him pleasant. There." - -She had been writing the letter of introduction during the course of -these remarks. At the last word she blotted it, and placed it in an -envelope. - -"That's the address," she said. "J. Brabazon Renshaw, Office of -_Peaceful Moments_. Take it to him now. Good-by." - -It was as if she were ashamed of her late display of emotion. She spoke -abruptly, and her pale eyes were expressionless. Betty thanked her and -turned to go. - -"Tell me how you get on," said Mrs. Oakley. - -"Yes," said Betty. - -"And _work_. Keep on working!" - -There was a momentary return of her former manner as she spoke the -words, and Betty wavered. She longed to say something comforting, -something that would show that she understood. - -Mrs. Oakley had taken up the feather duster again. - -"Steena will show you out," she said curtly. And Betty was aware of the -stolid Swede in the doorway. The interview was plainly at an end. - -"Good-by, Aunt," she said, "and thank you ever so much--for -everything." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -"PEACEFUL MOMENTS" - - -The man in the street did not appear to know it, but a great crisis was -imminent in New York journalism. - -Everything seemed much as usual in the city. The cars ran blithely on -Broadway. Newsboys shouted their mystic slogan, "Wuxtry!" with -undiminished vim. Society thronged Fifth Avenue without a furrow on its -brow. At a thousand street corners a thousand policemen preserved their -air of massive superiority to the things of this world. Of all the four -million not one showed the least sign of perturbation. - -Nevertheless, the crisis was at hand. Mr. J. Brabazon Renshaw, -Editor-in-chief of _Peaceful Moments_, was about to leave his post -and start on a three-months' vacation. - -_Peaceful Moments_, as its name (an inspiration of Mr. Renshaw's -own) was designed to imply, was a journal of the home. It was the sort -of paper which the father of the family is expected to take back with -him from the office and read aloud to the chicks before bedtime under -the shade of the rubber plant. - -Circumstances had left the development of the paper almost entirely to -Mr. Renshaw. Its contents were varied. There was a "Moments in the -Nursery" page, conducted by Luella Granville Waterman and devoted -mainly to anecdotes of the family canary, by Jane (aged six), and -similar works of the younger set. There was a "Moments of Meditation" -page, conducted by the Reverend Edwin T. Philpotts; a "Moments among -the Masters" page, consisting of assorted chunks looted from the -literature of the past, when foreheads were bulged and thoughts -profound, by Mr. Renshaw himself; one or two other special pages; a -short story; answers to correspondents on domestic matters; and a -"Moments of Mirth" page, conducted by one B. Henderson Asher--a very -painful affair. - -The proprietor of this admirable journal was that Napoleon of finance, -Mr. Benjamin Scobell. - -That this should have been so is but one proof of the many-sidedness of -that great man. - -Mr. Scobell had founded _Peaceful Moments_ at an early stage in -his career, and it was only at very rare intervals nowadays that he -recollected that he still owned it. He had so many irons in the fire -now that he had no time to waste his brain tissues thinking about a -paper like _Peaceful Moments_. It was one of his failures. It -certainly paid its way and brought him a small sum each year, but to -him it was a failure, a bombshell that had fizzled. - -He had intended to do big things with _Peaceful Moments_. He had -meant to start a new epoch in the literature of Manhattan. - -"I gottan idea," he had said to Miss Scobell. "All this yellow -journalism--red blood and all that--folks are tired of it. They want -something milder. Wholesome, see what I mean? There's money in it. Guys -make a roll too big to lift by selling soft drinks, don't they? Well, -I'm going to run a soft-drink paper. See?" - -The enterprise had started well. To begin with, he had found the ideal -editor. He had met Mr. Renshaw at a down-East gathering presided over -by Mrs. Oakley, and his Napoleonic eye had seen in J. Brabazon the -seeds of domestic greatness. Before they parted, he had come to terms -with him. Nor had the latter failed to justify his intuition. He made -an admirable editor. It was not Mr. Renshaw's fault that the new paper -had failed to electrify America. It was the public on whom the -responsibility for the failure must be laid. They spoiled the whole -thing. Certain of the faithful subscribed, it is true, and continued to -subscribe, but the great heart of the public remained untouched. The -great heart of the public declined to be interested in the meditations -of Mr. Philpotts and the humor of Mr. B. Henderson Asher, and continued -to spend its money along the bad old channels. The thing began to bore -Mr. Scobell. He left the conduct of the journal more and more to Mr. -Renshaw, until finally--it was just after the idea for extracting gold -from sea water had struck him--he put the whole business definitely out -of his mind. (His actual words were that he never wanted to see or hear -of the darned thing again, inasmuch as it gave him a pain in the neck.) -Mr. Renshaw was given a free hand as to the editing, and all matters of -finance connected with the enterprise were placed in the hands of Mr. -Scobell's solicitors, who had instructions to sell the journal, if, as -its owner crisply put it, they could find any chump who was enough of a -darned chump to give real money for it. Up to the present the great -army of chumps had fallen short of this ideal standard of darned -chumphood. - -Ever since this parting of the ways, Mr. Renshaw had been in his -element. Under his guidance _Peaceful Moments_ had reached a level -of domesticity which made other so-called domestic journals look like -sporting supplements. But at last the work had told upon him. Whether -it was the effort of digging into the literature of the past every -week, or the strain of reading B. Henderson Asher's "Moments of Mirth" -is uncertain. At any rate, his labors had ended in wrecking his health -to such an extent that the doctor had ordered him three months' -complete rest, in the woods or mountains, whichever he preferred; and, -being a farseeing man, who went to the root of things, had absolutely -declined to consent to Mr. Renshaw's suggestion that he keep in touch -with the paper during his vacation. He was adamant. He had seen copies -of _Peaceful Moments_ once or twice, and refused to permit a man -in Mr. Renshaw's state of health to come in contact with Luella -Granville Waterman's "Moments in the Nursery" and B. Henderson Asher's -"Moments of Mirth." - -"You must forget that such a paper exists," he said. "You must dismiss -the whole thing from your mind, live in the open, and develop some -flesh and muscle." - -Mr. Renshaw had bowed before the sentence, howbeit gloomily, and now, -on the morning of Betty's departure from Mrs. Oakley's house with the -letter of introduction, was giving his final instructions to his -temporary successor. - -This temporary successor in the editorship was none other than John's -friend, Rupert Smith, late of the _News_. - -Smith, on leaving Harvard, had been attracted by newspaper work, and -had found his first billet on a Western journal of the type whose -society column consists of such items as "Jim Thompson was to town -yesterday with a bunch of other cheap skates. We take this opportunity -of once more informing Jim that he is a liar and a skunk," and whose -editor works with a pistol on his desk and another in his hip-pocket. -Graduating from this, he had proceeded to a reporter's post on a daily -paper in Kentucky, where there were blood feuds and other Southern -devices for preventing life from becoming dull. All this was good, but -even while he enjoyed these experiences, New York, the magnet, had been -tugging at him, and at last, after two eventful years on the Kentucky -paper, he had come East, and eventually won through to the staff of the -_News_. - -His presence in the office of _Peaceful Moments_ was due to the -uncomfortable habit of most of the New York daily papers of cutting -down their staff of reporters during the summer. The dismissed had, to -sustain them, the knowledge that they would return, like the swallows, -anon, and be received back into their old places; but in the meantime -they suffered the inconvenience of having to support themselves as best -they could. Smith, when, in the company of half-a-dozen others, he had -had to leave the _News_, had heard of the vacant post of assistant -editor on _Peaceful Moments_, and had applied for and received it. -Whereby he was more fortunate than some of his late colleagues; though, -as the character of his new work unrolled itself before him, he was -frequently doubtful on that point. For the atmosphere of _Peaceful -Moments_, however wholesome, was certainly not exciting, and his -happened to be essentially a nature that needed the stimulus of -excitement. Even in Park Row, the denizens of which street are rarely -slaves to the conventional and safe, he had a well-established -reputation in this matter. Others of his acquaintances welcomed -excitement when it came to them in the course of the day's work, but it -was Smith's practise to go in search of it. He was a young man of -spirit and resource. - -His appearance, to those who did not know him, hardly suggested this. -He was very tall and thin, with a dark, solemn face. He was a purist in -the matter of clothes, and even in times of storm and stress presented -an immaculate appearance to the world. In his left eye, attached to a -cord, he wore a monocle. - -Through this, at the present moment, he was gazing benevolently at Mr. -Renshaw, as the latter fussed about the office in the throes of -departure. To the editor's rapid fire of advice and warning he listened -with the pleased and indulgent air of a father whose infant son frisks -before him. Mr. Renshaw interested him. To Smith's mind Mr. Renshaw, -put him in any show you pleased, would alone have been worth the price -of admission. - -"Well," chirruped the holiday-maker--he was a little man with a long -neck, and he always chirruped--"Well, I think that is all, Mr. Smith. -Oh, ah, yes! The stenographer. You will need a new stenographer." - -The _Peaceful Moments_ stenographer had resigned her position -three days before, in order to get married. - -"Unquestionably, Comrade Renshaw," said Smith. "A blonde." - -Mr. Renshaw looked annoyed. - -"I have told you before, Mr. Smith, I object to your addressing me as -Comrade. It is not--it is not--er--fitting." - -Smith waved a deprecating hand. - -"Say no more," he said. "I will correct the habit. I have been studying -the principles of Socialism somewhat deeply of late, and I came to the -conclusion that I must join the cause. It looked good to me. You work -for the equal distribution of property, and start in by swiping all you -can and sitting on it. A noble scheme. Me for it. But I am interrupting -you." - -Mr. Renshaw had to pause for a moment to reorganize his ideas. - -"I think--ah, yes. I think it would be best perhaps to wait for a day -or two in case Mrs. Oakley should recommend someone. I mentioned the -vacancy in the office to her, and she said she would give the matter -her attention. I should prefer, if possible, to give the place to her -nominee. She--" - -"--has eighteen million a year," said Smith. "I understand. Scatter -seeds of kindness." - -Mr. Renshaw looked at him sharply. Smith's face was solemn and -thoughtful. - -"Nothing of the kind," the editor said, after a pause. "I should prefer -Mrs. Oakley's nominee because Mrs. Oakley is a shrewd, practical woman -who--er--who--who, in fact--" - -"Just so," said Smith, eying him gravely through the monocle. -"Entirely." - -The scrutiny irritated Mr. Renshaw. - -"Do put that thing away, Mr. Smith," he said. - -"That thing?" - -"Yes, that ridiculous glass. Put it away." - -"Instantly," said Smith, replacing the monocle in his vest-pocket. "You -object to it? Well, well, many people do. We all have these curious -likes and dislikes. It is these clashings of personal taste which -constitute what we call life. Yes. You were saying?" - -Mr. Renshaw wrinkled his forehead. - -"I have forgotten what I intended to say," he said querulously. "You -have driven it out of my head." - -Smith clicked his tongue sympathetically. Mr. Renshaw looked at his -watch. - -"Dear me," he said, "I must be going. I shall miss my train. But I -think I have covered the ground quite thoroughly. You understand -everything?" - -"Absolutely," said Smith. "I look on myself as some engineer -controlling a machine with a light hand on the throttle. Or like some -faithful hound whose master--" - -"Ah! There is just one thing. Mrs. Julia Burdett Parslow is a little -inclined to be unpunctual with her 'Moments with Budding Girlhood.' If -this should happen while I am away, just write her a letter, quite a -pleasant letter, you understand, pointing out the necessity of being in -good time. She must realize that we are a machine." - -"Exactly," murmured Smith. - -"The machinery of the paper cannot run smoothly unless contributors are -in good time with their copy." - -"Precisely," said Smith. "They are the janitors of the literary world. -Let them turn off the steam heat, and where are we? If Mrs. Julia -Burdett Parslow is not up to time with the hot air, how shall our -'Girlhood' escape being nipped in the bud?" - -"And there is just one other thing. I wish you would correct a slight -tendency I have noticed lately in Mr. Asher to be just a trifle--well, -not precisely risky, but perhaps a shade broad in his humor." - -"Young blood!" sighed Smith. "Young blood!" - -"Mr. Asher is a very sensible man, and he will understand. Well, that -is all, I think. Now, I really must be going. Good-by, Mr. Smith." - -"Good-by." - -At the door Mr. Renshaw paused with the air of an exile bidding -farewell to his native land, sighed and trotted out. - -Smith put his feet upon the table, flicked a speck of dust from his -coat-sleeve, and resumed his task of reading the proofs of Luella -Granville Waterman's "Moments in the Nursery." - - * * * * * - -He had not been working long, when Pugsy Maloney, the office boy, -entered. - -"Say!" said Pugsy. - -"Say on, Comrade Maloney." - -"Dere's a loidy out dere wit a letter for Mr. Renshaw." - -"Have you acquainted her with the fact that Mr. Renshaw has passed to -other climes?" - -"Huh?" - -"Have you, in the course of your conversation with this lady, mentioned -that Mr. Renshaw has beaten it?" - -"Sure, I did. And she says can she see you?" - -Smith removed his feet from the table. - -"Certainly," he said. "Who am I that I should deny people these little -treats? Ask her to come in, Comrade Maloney." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -BETTY MAKES A FRIEND - - -Betty had appealed to Master Maloney's esthetic sense of beauty -directly she appeared before him. It was with regret, therefore, rather -than with the usual calm triumph of the office boy, that he informed -her that the editor was not in. Also, seeing that she was evidently -perturbed by the information, he had gone out of his way to suggest -that she lay her business, whatever it might be, before Mr. Renshaw's -temporary successor. - -Smith received her with Old-World courtesy. - -"Will you sit down?" he said. "Not to wait for Comrade Renshaw, of -course. He will not be back for another three months. Perhaps I can -help you. I am acting editor. The work is not light," he added -gratuitously. "Sometimes the cry goes round New York, 'Can Smith get -through it all? Will his strength support his unquenchable spirit?' But -I stagger on. I do not repine. What was it that you wished to see -Comrade Renshaw about?" - -He swung his monocle lightly by its cord. For the first time since she -had entered the office Betty was rather glad that Mr. Renshaw was away. -Conscious of her defects as a stenographer she had been looking forward -somewhat apprehensively to the interview with her prospective employer. -But this long, solemn youth put her at her ease. His manner suggested -in some indefinable way that the whole thing was a sort of round game. - -"I came about the typewriting," she said. - -Smith looked at her with interest. - -"Are you the nominee?" - -"I beg your pardon?" - -"Do you come from Mrs. Oakley?" - -"Yes." - -"Then all is well. The decks have been cleared against your coming. -Consider yourself engaged as our official typist. By the way, -_can_ you type?" - -Betty laughed. This was certainly not the awkward interview she had -been picturing in her mind. - -"Yes," she said, "but I'm afraid I'm not very good at it." - -"Never mind," said Smith. "I'm not very good at editing. Yet here I am. -I foresee that we shall make an ideal team. Together, we will toil -early and late till we whoop up this domestic journal into a shining -model of what a domestic journal should be. What that is, at present, I -do not exactly know. Excursion trains will be run from the Middle West -to see this domestic journal. Visitors from Oshkosh will do it before -going on to Grant's tomb. What exactly is your name?" - -Betty hesitated. Yes, perhaps it would be better. "Brown," she said. - -"Mine is Smith. The smiling child in the outer office is Pugsy Maloney, -one of our most prominent citizens. Homely in appearance, perhaps, but -one of us. You will get to like Comrade Maloney. And now, to touch on a -painful subject--work. Would you care to start in now, or have you any -other engagements? Perhaps you wish to see the sights of this beautiful -little city before beginning? You would prefer to start in now? -Excellent. You could not have come at a more suitable time, for I was -on the very point of sallying out to purchase about twenty-five cents' -worth of lunch. We editors, Comrade Brown, find that our tissues need -constant restoration, such is the strenuous nature of our duties. You -will find one or two letters on that table. Good-by, then, for the -present." - -He picked up his hat, smoothed it carefully and with a courtly -inclination of his head, left the room. - -Betty sat down, and began to think. So she was really earning her own -living! It was a stimulating thought. She felt a little bewildered. She -had imagined something so different. Mrs. Oakley had certainly said -that _Peaceful Moments_ was a small paper, but despite that, her -imagination had conjured up visions of bustle and activity, and a -peremptory, overdriven editor, snapping out words of command. Smith, -with his careful speech and general air of calm detachment from the -noisy side of life, created an atmosphere of restfulness. If this was a -sample of life in the office, she thought, the paper had been well -named. She felt soothed and almost happy. - -Interesting and exciting things, New York things, began to happen at -once. To her, meditating, there entered Pugsy Maloney, the guardian of -the gate of this shrine of Peace, a nonchalant youth of about fifteen, -with a freckled, mask-like face, the expression of which never varied, -bearing in his arms a cat. The cat was struggling violently, but he -appeared quite unconscious of it. Its existence did not seem to occur -to him. - -"Say!" said Pugsy. - -Betty was fond of cats. - -"Oh, don't hurt her!" she cried anxiously. - -Master Maloney eyed the cat as if he were seeing it for the first time. - -"I wasn't hoitin' her," he said, without emotion. "Dere was two fresh -kids in the street sickin' a dawg on to her. And I comes up and says, -'G'wan! What do youse t'ink youse doin', fussin' de poor dumb animal?' -An' one of de guys, he says, 'G'wan! Who do youse t'ink youse is?' An' -I says, 'I'm de guy what's goin' to swat youse on de coco, smarty, if -youse don't quit fussin' de poor dumb animal.' So wit' dat he makes a -break at swattin' me one, but I swats him one, an' I swats de odder -feller one, an' den I swats dem bote some more, an' I gits de kitty, -an' I brings her in here, cos I t'inks maybe youse'll look after her. I -can't be boddered myself. Cats is foolishness." - -And, having finished this Homeric narrative, Master Maloney fixed an -expressionless eye on the ceiling, and was silent. - -"How splendid of you, Pugsy!" cried Betty. "She might have been killed, -poor thing." - -"She had it pretty fierce," admitted Master Maloney, gazing -dispassionately at the rescued animal, which had escaped from his -clutch and taken up a strong position on an upper shelf of the -bookcase. - -"Will you go out and get her some milk, Pugsy? She's probably starving. -Here's a quarter. Will you keep the change?" - -"Sure thing," assented Master Maloney. - -He strolled slowly out, while Betty, mounting a chair, proceeded to -chirrup and snap her fingers in the effort to establish the foundations -of an _entente cordiale_ with the cat. - -By the time Pugsy returned, carrying a five-cent bottle of milk, the -animal had vacated the shelf, and was sitting on the table, polishing -her face. The milk having been poured into the lid of a tobacco tin, in -lieu of a saucer, she suspended her operations and adjourned for -refreshments, Pugsy, having no immediate duties on hand, concentrated -himself on the cat. - -"Say!" he said. - -"Well?" - -"Dat kitty. Pipe de leather collar she's wearin'." - -Betty had noticed earlier in the proceedings that a narrow leather -collar encircled the animal's neck. - -"Guess I know where dat kitty belongs. Dey all has dose collars. I -guess she's one of Bat Jarvis's kitties. He's got twenty-t'ree of dem, -and dey all has dose collars." - -"Bat Jarvis?" - -"Sure." - -"Who is he?" - -Pugsy looked at her incredulously. - -"Say! Ain't youse never heard of Bat Jarvis? He's--he's Bat Jarvis." - -"Do you know him?" - -"Sure, I knows him." - -"Does he live near here?" - -"Sure, he lives near here." - -"Then I think the best thing for you to do is to run round and tell him -that I am taking care of his cat, and that he had better come and fetch -it. I must be getting on with my work, or I shall never finish it." - -She settled down to type the letters Smith had indicated. She attacked -her task cautiously. She was one of those typists who are at their best -when they do not have to hurry. - -She was putting the finishing touches to the last of the batch, when -there was a shuffling of feet in the outer room, followed by a knock on -the door. The next moment there entered a short, burly young man, -around whom there hung, like an aroma, an indescribable air of -toughness, partly due, perhaps, to the fact that he wore his hair in a -well-oiled fringe almost down to his eyebrows, thus presenting the -appearance of having no forehead at all. His eyes were small and set -close together. His mouth was wide, his jaw prominent. Not, in short, -the sort of man you would have picked out on sight as a model citizen. -He blinked furtively, as his eyes met Betty's, and looked round the -room. His face lighted up as he saw the cat. - -"Say!" he said, stepping forward, and touching the cat's collar. -"Ma'am, mine!" - -"Are you Mr. Jarvis?" asked Betty. - -The visitor nodded, not without a touch of complacency, as of a monarch -abandoning his incognito. - -For Mr. Jarvis was a celebrity. - -By profession he was a dealer in animals, birds, and snakes. He had a -fancier's shop on Groome Street, in the heart of the Bowery. This was -on the ground floor. His living abode was in the upper story of that -house, and it was there that he kept the twenty-three cats whose necks -were adorned with leather collars. - -But it was not the fact that he possessed twenty-three cats with -leather collars that had made Mr. Jarvis a celebrity. A man may win a -local reputation, if only for eccentricity, by such means. Mr. Jarvis' -reputation was far from being purely local. Broadway knew him, and the -Tenderloin. Tammany Hall knew him. Long Island City knew him. For Bat -Jarvis was the leader of the famous Groome Street Gang, the largest and -most influential of the four big gangs of the East Side. - -To Betty, so little does the world often know of its greatest men, he -was merely a decidedly repellent-looking young man in unbecoming -clothes. But his evident affection for the cat gave her a feeling of -fellowship toward him. She beamed upon him, and Mr. Jarvis, who was -wont to face the glare of rivals without flinching, avoided her eye and -shuffled with embarrassment. - -"I'm so glad she's safe!" said Betty. "There were two boys teasing her -in the street. I've been giving her some milk." - -Mr. Jarvis nodded, with his eyes on the floor. - -There was a pause. Then he looked up, and, fixing his gaze some three -feet above her head, spoke. - -"Say!" he said, and paused again. Betty waited expectantly. - -He relaxed into silence again, apparently thinking. - -"Say!" he said. "Ma'am, obliged. Fond of de kit. I am." - -"She's a dear," said Betty, tickling the cat under the ear. - -"Ma'am," went on Mr. Jarvis, pursuing his theme, "obliged. Sha'n't -fergit it. Any time you're in bad, glad to be of service. Bat Jarvis. -Groome Street. Anybody'll show youse where I live." - -He paused, and shuffled his feet; then, tucking the cat more firmly -under his arm, left the room. Betty heard him shuffling downstairs. - -He had hardly gone, when the door opened again, and Smith came in. - -"So you have had company while I was away?" he said. "Who was the -grandee with the cat? An old childhood's friend? Was he trying to sell -the animal to us?" - -"That was Mr. Bat Jarvis," said Betty. - -Smith looked interested. - -"Bat! What was he doing here?" - -Betty related the story of the cat. Smith nodded thoughtfully. - -"Well," he said, "I don't know that Comrade Jarvis is precisely the -sort of friend I would go out of my way to select. Still, you never -know what might happen. He might come in useful. And now, let us -concentrate ourselves tensely on this very entertaining little journal -of ours, and see if we cannot stagger humanity with it." - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -A CHANGE OF POLICY - - -The feeling of tranquillity which had come to Betty on her first -acquaintance with _Peaceful Moments_ seemed to deepen as the days -went by, and with each day she found the sharp pain at her heart less -vehement. It was still there, but it was dulled. The novelty of her -life and surroundings kept it in check. New York is an egotist. It will -suffer no divided attention. "Look at me!" says the voice of the city -imperiously, and its children obey. It snatches their thoughts from -their inner griefs, and concentrates them on the pageant that rolls -unceasingly from one end of the island to the other. One may despair in -New York, but it is difficult to brood on the past; for New York is the -City of the Present, the City of Things that are Going On. - -To Betty everything was new and strange. Her previous acquaintance with -the metropolis had not been extensive. Mr. Scobell's home--or, rather, -the house which he owned in America--was on the outskirts of -Philadelphia, and it was there that she had lived when she was not -paying visits. Occasionally, during horse-show week, or at some other -time of festivity, she had spent a few days with friends who lived in -Madison or upper Fifth Avenue, but beyond that, New York was a closed -book to her. - -It would have been a miracle in the circumstances, if John and Mervo -and the whole of the events since the arrival of the great cable had -not to some extent become a little dream-like. When she was alone at -night, and had leisure to think, the dream became a reality once more; -but in her hours of work, or what passed for work in the office of -_Peaceful Moments_, and in the hours she spent walking about the -streets and observing the ways of this new world of hers, it faded. -Everything was so bright and busy! Every moment had its fresh interest. - -And, above all, there was the sense of adventure. She was twenty-four; -she had health and an imagination; and almost unconsciously she was -stimulated by the thrill of being for the first time in her life -genuinely at large. The child's love of hiding dies hard in us. To -Betty, to walk abroad in New York in the midst of hurrying crowds, just -Betty Brown--one of four million and no longer the beautiful Miss -Silver of the society column, was to taste the romance of disguise, or -invisibility. - -During office hours she came near to complete contentment. To an expert -stenographer the amount of work to be done would have seemed -ridiculously small, but Betty, who liked plenty of time for a task, -generally managed to make it last comfortably through the day. - -This was partly owing to the fact that her editor, when not actually at -work himself, was accustomed to engage her in conversation, and to keep -her so engaged until the entrance of Pugsy Maloney heralded the arrival -of some caller. - -Betty liked Smith. His odd ways, his conversation, and his extreme -solicitude for his clothes amused her. She found his outlook on life -refreshing. Smith was an optimist. Whatever cataclysm might occur, he -never doubted for a moment that he would be comfortably on the summit -of the debris when all was over. He amazed Betty with his stories of -his reportorial adventures. He told them for the most part as humorous -stories at his own expense, but the fact remained that in a -considerable proportion of them he had only escaped a sudden and -violent death by adroitness or pure good luck. His conversation opened -up a new world to Betty. She began to see that in America, and -especially in New York, anything may happen to anybody. She looked on -Smith with new eyes. - -"But surely all this," she said one morning, after he had come to the -end of the story of a highly delicate piece of interviewing work in -connection with some Cumberland Mountains feudists, "surely all this--" -She looked round the room. - -"Domesticity?" suggested Smith. - -"Yes," said Betty. "Surely it all seems rather tame to you?" - -Smith sighed. - -"Comrade Brown," he said, "you have touched the spot with an unerring -finger." - -Since Mr. Renshaw's departure, the flatness of life had come home to -Smith with renewed emphasis. Before, there had always been the quiet -entertainment of watching the editor at work, but now he was feeling -restless. Like John at Mervo, he was practically nothing but an -ornament. _Peaceful Moments_, like Mervo, had been set rolling and -had continued to roll on almost automatically. The staff of regular -contributors sent in their various pages. There was nothing for the man -in charge to do. Mr. Renshaw had been one of those men who have a -genius for being as busy over nothing as if it were some colossal work, -but Smith had not that gift. He liked something that he could grip and -that gripped him. He was becoming desperately bored. He felt like a -marooned sailor on a barren rock of domesticity. - -A visitor who called at the office at this time did nothing to remove -this sensation of being outside everything that made life worth living. -Betty, returning to the office one afternoon, found Smith in the -doorway, just parting from a thickset young man. There was a rather -gloomy expression on the thickset young man's face. - -Smith, too, she noted, when they were back in the inner office, seemed -to have something on his mind. He was strangely silent. - -"Comrade Brown," he said at last, "I wish this little journal of ours -had a sporting page." - -Betty laughed. - -"Less ribaldry," protested Smith pained. "This is a sad affair. You saw -the man I was talking to? That was Kid Brady. I used to know him when I -was out West. He wants to fight anyone in the country at a hundred and -thirty-three pounds. We all have our hobbies. That is Comrade Brady's." - -"Is he a boxer?" - -"He would like to be. Out West, nobody could touch him. He's in the -championship class. But he has been pottering about New York for a -month without being able to get a fight. If we had a sporting page on -_Peaceful Moments_ we could do him some good, but I don't see how -we can write him up," said Smith, picking up a copy of the paper, and -regarding it gloomily, "in 'Moments in the Nursery' or 'Moments with -Budding Girlhood.'" - -He put up his eyeglass, and stared at the offending journal with the -air of a vegetarian who has found a caterpillar in his salad. -Incredulity, dismay, and disgust fought for precedence in his -expression. - -"B. Henderson Asher," he said severely, "ought to be in some sort of a -home. Cain killed Abel for telling him that story." - -He turned to another page, and scrutinized it with deepening gloom. - -"Is Luella Granville Waterman by any chance a friend of yours, Comrade -Brown? No? I am glad. For it seems to me that for sheer, concentrated -piffle, she is in a class by herself." - -He read on for a few moments in silence, then looked up and fixed Betty -with his monocle. There was righteous wrath in his eyes. - -"And people," he said, "are paying money for this! _Money!_ Even -now they are sitting down and writing checks for a year's subscription. -It isn't right! It's a skin game. I am assisting in a carefully planned -skin game!" - -"But perhaps they like it," suggested Betty. - -Smith shook his head. - -"It is kind of you to try and soothe my conscience, but it is useless. -I see my position too clearly. Think of it, Comrade Brown! Thousands of -poor, doddering, half-witted creatures in Brooklyn and Flatbush, who -ought not really to have control of their own money at all, are getting -buncoed out of whatever it is per annum in exchange for--how shall I -put it in a forcible yet refined and gentlemanly manner?--for cat's -meat of this description. Why, selling gold bricks is honest compared -with it. And I am temporarily responsible for the black business!" - -He extended a lean hand with melodramatic suddenness toward Betty. The -unexpectedness of the movement caused her to start back in her chair -with a little exclamation of surprise. Smith nodded with a kind of -mournful satisfaction. - -"Exactly!" he said. "As I expected! You shrink from me. You avoid my -polluted hand. How could it be otherwise? A conscientious green-goods -man would do the same." He rose from his seat. "Your attitude," he -said, "confirms me in a decision that has been in my mind for some -days. I will no longer calmly accept this terrible position. I will try -to make amends. While I am in charge, I will give our public something -worth reading. All these Watermans and Ashers and Parslows must go!" - -"Go!" - -"Go!" repeated Smith firmly. "I have been thinking it over for days. -You cannot look me in the face, Comrade Brown, and say that there is a -single feature which would not be better away. I mean in the paper, not -in my face. Every one of these punk pages must disappear. Letters must -be despatched at once, informing Julia Burdett Parslow and the others, -and in particular B. Henderson Asher, who, on brief acquaintance, -strikes me as an ideal candidate for a lethal chamber--that, unless -they cease their contributions instantly, we shall call up the police -reserves. Then we can begin to move." - -Betty, like most of his acquaintances, seldom knew whether Smith was -talking seriously or not. She decided to assume, till he should dismiss -the idea, that he meant what he said. - -"But you can't!" she exclaimed. - -"With your kind cooperation, nothing easier. You supply the mechanical -work. I will compose the letters. First, B. Henderson Asher. 'Dear -Sir'--" - -"But--" she fell back on her original remark--"but you can't. What will -Mr. Renshaw say when he comes back?" - -"Sufficient unto the day. I have a suspicion that he will be the -first to approve. His vacation will have made him see things -differently--purified him, as it were. His conscience will be alive -once more." - -"But--" - -"Why should we worry ourselves because the end of this venture is -wrapped in obscurity? Why, Columbus didn't know where he was going to -when he set out. All he knew was some highly interesting fact about an -egg. What that was, I do not at the moment recall, but I understand it -acted on Columbus like a tonic. We are the Columbuses of the -journalistic world. Full steam ahead, and see what happens. If Comrade -Renshaw is not pleased, why, I shall have been a martyr to a good -cause. It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done, -so to speak. Why should I allow possible inconvenience to myself to -stand in the way of the happiness which we propose to inject into those -Brooklyn and Flatbush homes? Are you ready then, once more? 'Dear -Sir--'" - -Betty gave in. - -When the letters were finished, she made one more objection. - -"They are certain to call here and make a fuss," she said, "Mr. Asher -and the rest." - -"You think they will not bear the blow with manly fortitude?" - -"I certainly do. And I think it's hard on them, too. Suppose they -depend for a living on what they make from _Peaceful Moments?_" - -"They don't," said Smith reassuringly. "I've looked into that. Have no -pity for them. They are amateurs--degraded creatures of substance who -take the cocktails out of the mouths of deserving professionals. B. -Henderson Asher, for instance, is largely interested in gents' -haberdashery. And so with the others. We touch their pride, perhaps, -but not their purses." - -Betty's soft heart was distinctly relieved by the information. - -"I see," she said. "But suppose they do call, what will you do? It will -be very unpleasant." - -Smith pondered. - -"True," he said. "True. I think you are right there. My nervous system -is so delicately attuned that anything in the shape of a brawl would -reduce it to a frazzle. I think that, for this occasion only, we will -promote Comrade Maloney to the post of editor. He is a stern, hard, -rugged man who does not care how unpopular he is. Yes, I think that -would be best." - -He signed the letters with a firm hand, "per pro P. Maloney, editor." - -Then he lit a cigarette, and leaned back in his chair. - -"An excellent morning's work," he said. "Already I begin to feel the -dawnings of a new self-respect." - -Betty, thinking the thing over, a little dazed by the rapidity of -Smith's method of action, had found a fresh flaw in the scheme. - -"If you send Mr. Asher and the others away, how are you going to bring -the paper out at all? You can't write it all yourself." - -Smith looked at her with benevolent admiration. - -"She thinks of everything," he murmured. "That busy brain is never -still. No, Comrade Brown, I do not propose to write the whole paper -myself. I do not shirk work when it gets me in a corner and I can't -side-step, but there are limits. I propose to apply to a few of my late -companions of Park Row, bright boys who will be delighted to come -across with red-hot stuff for a moderate fee." - -"And the proprietor of the paper? Won't he make any objection?" - -Smith shook his head with a touch of reproof. - -"You seem determined to try to look on the dark side. Do you insinuate -that we are not acting in the proprietor's best interests? When he gets -his check for the receipts, after I have handled the paper awhile, he -will go singing about the streets. His beaming smile will be a byword. -Visitors will be shown it as one of the sights. His only doubt will be -whether to send his money to the bank or keep it in tubs and roll in -it. And anyway," he added, "he's in Europe somewhere, and never sees -the paper, sensible man." - -He scratched a speck of dust off his coat-sleeve with his finger nail. - -"This is a big thing," he resumed. "Wait till you see the first number -of the new series. My idea is that _Peaceful Moments_ shall become -a pretty warm proposition. Its tone shall be such that the public will -wonder why we do not print it on asbestos. We shall comment on all the -live events of the week--murders, Wall Street scandals, glove fights, -and the like, in a manner which will make our readers' spines thrill. -Above all, we shall be the guardians of the people's rights. We shall -be a spot light, showing up the dark places and bringing into -prominence those who would endeavor in any way to put the people in -Dutch. We shall detect the wrongdoer, and hand him such a series of -resentful wallops that he will abandon his little games and become a -model citizen. In this way we shall produce a bright, readable little -sheet which will make our city sit up and take notice. I think so. I -think so. And now I must be hustling about and seeing our new -contributors. There is no time to waste." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE HONEYED WORD - - -The offices of Peaceful Moments were in a large building in a street -off Madison Avenue. They consisted of a sort of outer lair, where Pugsy -Maloney spent his time reading tales of life on the prairies and -heading off undesirable visitors; a small room, into which desirable -but premature visitors were loosed, to wait their turn for admission -into the Presence; and a larger room beyond, which was the editorial -sanctum. - -Smith, returning from luncheon on the day following his announcement of -the great change, found both Betty and Pugsy waiting in the outer lair, -evidently with news of import. - -"Mr. Smith," began Betty. - -"Dey're in dere," said Master Maloney with his customary terseness. - -"Who, exactly?" asked Smith. - -"De whole bunch of dem." - -Smith inspected Pugsy through his eyeglass. "Can you give me any -particulars?" he asked patiently. "You are well-meaning, but vague, -Comrade Maloney. Who are in there?" - -"About 'steen of dem!" said Pugsy. - -"Mr. Asher," said Betty, "and Mr. Philpotts, and all the rest of them." -She struggled for a moment, but, unable to resist the temptation, -added, "I told you so." - -A faint smile appeared upon Smith's face. - -"Dey just butted in," said Master Maloney, resuming his narrative. "I -was sittin' here, readin' me book, when de foist of de guys blows in. -'Boy,' says he, 'is de editor in?' 'Nope,' I says. 'I'll go in and -wait,' says he. 'Nuttin' doin',' says I. 'Nix on de goin'-in act.' I -might as well have saved me breat! In he butts. In about t'ree minutes -along comes another gazebo. 'Boy,' says he, 'is de editor in?' 'Nope,' -I says. 'I'll wait,' says he, lightin' out for de door, and in he -butts. Wit' dat I sees de proposition's too fierce for muh. I can't -keep dese big husky guys out if dey bucks center like dat. So when de -rest of de bunch comes along, I don't try to give dem de trun down. I -says, 'Well, gent,' I says, 'it's up to youse. De editor ain't in, but, -if you feels lonesome, push t'roo. Dere's plenty dere to keep youse -company. I can't be boddered!'" - -"And what more could you have said?" agreed Smith approvingly. "Tell -me, did these gentlemen appear to be gay and light-hearted, or did they -seem to be looking for someone with a hatchet?" - -"Dey was hoppin' mad, de whole bunch of dem." - -"Dreadfully," attested Betty. - -"As I suspected," said Smith, "but we must not repine. These trifling -contretemps are the penalties we pay for our high journalistic aims. I -fancy that with the aid of the diplomatic smile and the honeyed word I -may manage to win out. Will you come and give me your moral support, -Comrade Brown?" - -He opened the door of the inner room for Betty, and followed her in. - -Master Maloney's statement that "about 'steen" visitors had arrived -proved to be a little exaggerated. There were five men in the room. - -As Smith entered, every eye was turned upon him. To an outside -spectator he would have seemed rather like a very well-dressed Daniel -introduced into a den of singularly irritable lions. Five pairs of eyes -were smoldering with a long-nursed resentment. Five brows were -corrugated with wrathful lines. Such, however, was the simple majesty -of Smith's demeanor that for a moment there was dead silence. Not a -word was spoken as he paced, wrapped in thought, to the editorial -chair. Stillness brooded over the room as he carefully dusted that -piece of furniture, and, having done so to his satisfaction, hitched up -the knees of his trousers and sank gracefully into a sitting position. - -This accomplished, he looked up and started. He gazed round the room. - -"Ha! I am observed!" he murmured. - -The words broke the spell. Instantly the five visitors burst -simultaneously into speech. - -"Are you the acting editor of this paper?" - -"I wish to have a word with you, sir." - -"Mr. Maloney, I presume?" - -"Pardon me!" - -"I should like a few moments' conversation." - -The start was good and even, but the gentleman who said "Pardon me!" -necessarily finished first, with the rest nowhere. - -Smith turned to him, bowed, and fixed him with a benevolent gaze -through his eyeglass. - -"Are you Mr. Maloney, may I ask?" enquired the favored one. - -The others paused for the reply. Smith shook his head. "My name is -Smith." - -"Where is Mr. Maloney?" - -Smith looked across at Betty, who had seated herself in her place by -the typewriter. - -"Where did you tell me Mr. Maloney had gone to, Miss Brown? Ah, well, -never mind. Is there anything _I_ can do for you, gentlemen? I am -on the editorial staff of this paper." - -"Then, maybe," said a small, round gentleman who, so far, had done only -chorus work, "you can tell me what all this means? My name is Waterman, -sir. I am here on behalf of my wife, whose name you doubtless know." - -"Correct me if I am wrong," said Smith, "but I should say it, also, was -Waterman." - -"Luella Granville Waterman, sir!" said the little man proudly. "My -wife," he went on, "has received this extraordinary communication from -a man signing himself P. Maloney. We are both at a loss to make head or -tail of it." - -"It seems reasonably clear to me," said Smith, reading the letter. - -"It's an outrage. My wife has been a contributor to this journal since -its foundation. We are both intimate friends of Mr. Renshaw, to whom my -wife's work has always given complete satisfaction. And now, without -the slightest warning, comes this peremptory dismissal from P. Maloney. -Who is P. Maloney? Where is Mr. Renshaw?" - -The chorus burst forth. It seemed that that was what they all wanted to -know. Who was P. Maloney? Where was Mr. Renshaw? - -"I am the Reverend Edwin T. Philpott, sir," said a cadaverous-looking -man with light blue eyes and a melancholy face. "I have contributed -'Moments of Meditation' to this journal for some considerable time." - -Smith nodded. - -"I know, yours has always seemed to me work which the world will not -willingly let die." - -The Reverend Edwin's frosty face thawed into a bleak smile. - -"And yet," continued Smith, "I gather that P. Maloney, on the other -hand, actually wishes to hurry on its decease. Strange!" - -A man in a serge suit, who had been lurking behind Betty, bobbed into -the open. - -"Where's this fellow Maloney? P. Maloney. That's the man we want to -see. I've been working for this paper without a break, except when I -had the grip, for four years, and now up comes this Maloney fellow, if -you please, and tells me in so many words that the paper's got no use -for me." - -"These are life's tragedies," sighed Smith. - -"What does he mean by it? That's what I want to know. And that's what -these gentlemen want to know. See here--" - -"I am addressing--" said Smith. - -"Asher's my name. B. Henderson Asher. I write 'Moments of Mirth.'" - -A look almost of excitement came into Smith's face, such a look as a -visitor to a foreign land might wear when confronted with some great -national monument. He stood up and shook Mr. Asher reverently by the -hand. - -"Gentlemen," he said, reseating himself, "this is a painful case. The -circumstances, as you will admit when you have heard all, are peculiar. -You have asked me where Mr. Renshaw is. I don't know." - -"You don't know!" exclaimed Mr. Asher. - -"Nobody knows. With luck you may find a black cat in a coal cellar on a -moonless night, but not Mr. Renshaw. Shortly after I joined this -journal, he started out on a vacation, by his doctor's orders, and left -no address. No letters were to be forwarded. He was to enjoy complete -rest. Who can say where he is now? Possibly racing down some rugged -slope in the Rockies with two grizzlies and a wildcat in earnest -pursuit. Possibly in the midst of Florida Everglades, making a noise -like a piece of meat in order to snare alligators. Who can tell?" - -Silent consternation prevailed among his audience. - -"Then, do you mean to say," demanded Mr. Asher, "that this fellow -Maloney's the boss here, and that what he says goes?" - -Smith bowed. - -"Exactly. A man of intensely masterful character, he will brook no -opposition. I am powerless to sway him. Suggestions from myself as to -the conduct of the paper would infuriate him. He believes that radical -changes are necessary in the policy of _Peaceful Moments_, and he -will carry them through if it snows. Doubtless he would gladly consider -your work if it fitted in with his ideas. A rapid-fire impression of a -glove fight, a spine-shaking word picture of a railway smash, or -something on those lines, would be welcomed. But--" - -"I have never heard of such a thing," said Mr. Waterman indignantly. - -"In this life," said Smith, shaking his head, "we must be prepared for -every emergency. We must distinguish between the unusual and the -impossible. It is unusual for the acting editor of a weekly paper to -revolutionize its existing policy, and you have rashly ordered your -life on the assumption that it is impossible. You are unprepared. The -thing comes on you as a surprise. The cry goes round New York, -'Comrades Asher, Waterman, Philpotts, and others have been taken -unawares. They cannot cope with the situation.'" - -"But what is to be done?" cried Mr. Asher. - -"Nothing, I fear, except to wait. It may be that when Mr. Renshaw, -having dodged the bears and eluded the wildcat, returns to his post, he -will decide not to continue the paper on the lines at present mapped -out. He should be back in about ten weeks." - -"Ten weeks!" - -"Till then, the only thing to do is to wait. You may rely on me to keep -a watchful eye on your interests. When your thoughts tend to take a -gloomy turn say to yourselves, 'All is well. Smith is keeping a -watchful eye on our interests.'" - -"All the same, I should like to see this P. Maloney," said Mr. Asher. - -"I shouldn't," said Smith. "I speak in your best interests. P. Maloney -is a man of the fiercest passions. He cannot brook interference. If you -should argue with him, there is no knowing what might not happen. He -would be the first to regret any violent action, when once he had -cooled off, but-- Of course, if you wish it I could arrange a meeting. -No? I think you are wise. And now, gentlemen, as I have a good deal of -work to get through-- - -"All very disturbing to the man of culture and refinement," said Smith, -as the door closed behind the last of the malcontents. "But I think -that we may now consider the line clear. I see no further obstacle in -our path. I fear I have made Comrade Maloney perhaps a shade unpopular -with our late contributors, but these things must be. We must clench -our teeth and face them manfully. He suffers in an excellent cause." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -TWO VISITORS TO THE OFFICE - - -There was once an editor of a paper in the Far West who was sitting at -his desk, musing pleasantly on life, when a bullet crashed through the -window and imbedded itself in the wall at the back of his head. A happy -smile lighted up the editor's face. "Ah!" he said complacently, "I knew -that personal column of ours would make a hit!" - -What the bullet was to the Far West editor, the visit of Mr. Martin -Parker to the offices of _Peaceful Moments_ was to Smith. - -It occurred shortly after the publication of the second number of the -new series, and was directly due to Betty's first and only suggestion -for the welfare of the paper. - -If the first number of the series had not staggered humanity, it had at -least caused a certain amount of comment. The warm weather had begun, -and there was nothing much going on in New York. The papers were -consequently free to take notice of the change in the policy of -_Peaceful Moments_. Through the agency of Smith's newspaper -friends, it received some very satisfactory free advertisement, and the -sudden increase in the sales enabled Smith to bear up with fortitude -against the numerous letters of complaint from old subscribers who did -not know what was good for them. Visions of a large new public which -should replace these Brooklyn and Flatbush ingrates filled his mind. - -The sporting section of the paper pleased him most. The personality of -Kid Brady bulked large in it. A photograph of the ambitious pugilist, -looking moody and important in an attitude of self-defense, filled half -a page, and under the photograph was the legend, "Jimmy Garvin must -meet this boy." Jimmy was the present holder of the light-weight title. -He had won it a year before, and since then had confined himself to -smoking cigars as long as walking sticks and appearing nightly in a -vaudeville sketch entitled, "A Fight for Honor." His reminiscences were -being published in a Sunday paper. It was this that gave Smith the idea -of publishing Kid Brady's autobiography in _Peaceful Moments_, an -idea which won the Kid's whole-hearted gratitude. Like most pugilists -he had a passion for bursting into print. Print is the fighter's -accolade. It signifies that he has arrived. He was grateful to Smith, -too, for not editing his contributions. Jimmy Garvin groaned under the -supervision of a member of the staff of his Sunday paper, who deleted -his best passages and altered the rest into Addisonian English. The -readers of _Peaceful Moments_ got their Brady raw. - -"Comrade Brady," said Smith meditatively to Betty one morning, "has a -singularly pure and pleasing style. It is bound to appeal powerfully to -the many-headed. Listen to this. Our hero is fighting one Benson in the -latter's home town, San Francisco, and the audience is rooting hard for -the native son. Here is Comrade Brady on the subject: 'I looked around -that house, and I seen I hadn't a friend in it. And then the gong goes, -and I says to myself how I has one friend, my old mother down in -Illinois, and I goes in and mixes it, and then I seen Benson losing his -goat, so I gives him a half-scissor hook, and in the next round I picks -up a sleep-producer from the floor and hands it to him, and he takes -the count.' That is what the public wants. Crisp, lucid, and to the -point. If that does not get him a fight with some eminent person, -nothing will." - -He leaned back in his chair. - -"What we really need now," he said thoughtfully, "is a good, honest, -muck-raking series. That's the thing to put a paper on the map. The -worst of it is that everything seems to have been done. Have you by any -chance a second 'Frenzied Finance' at the back of your mind? Or proofs -that nut sundaes are composed principally of ptomaine and outlying -portions of the American workingman? It would be the making of us." - -Now it happened that in the course of her rambles through the city -Betty had lost herself one morning in the slums. The experience had -impressed itself on her mind with an extraordinary vividness. Her lot -had always been cast in pleasant places, and she had never before been -brought into close touch with this side of life. The sight of actual -raw misery had come home to her with an added force from that -circumstance. Wandering on, she had reached a street which eclipsed in -cheerlessness even its squalid neighbors. All the smells and noises of -the East Side seemed to be penned up here in a sort of canyon. The -masses of dirty clothes hanging from the fire-escapes increased the -atmosphere of depression. Groups of ragged children covered the -roadway. - -It was these that had stamped the scene so indelibly on her memory. She -loved children, and these seemed so draggled and uncared-for. - -Smith's words gave her an idea. - -"Do you know Broster Street, Mr. Smith?" she asked. - -"Down on the East Side? Yes, I went there once to get a story, one -red-hot night in August, when I was on the _News_. The Ice Company -had been putting up their prices, and trouble was expected down there. -I was sent to cover it." - -He did not add that he had spent a week's salary that night, buying ice -and distributing it among the denizens of Broster Street. - -"It's an awful place," said Betty, her eyes filling with tears. "Those -poor children!" - -Smith nodded. - -"Some of those tenement houses are fierce," he said thoughtfully. Like -Betty, he found himself with a singularly clear recollection of his one -visit to Broster Street. "But you can't do anything." - -"Why not?" cried Betty. "Oh, why not? Surely you couldn't have a better -subject for your series? It's wicked. People only want to be told about -them to make them better. Why can't we draw attention to them?" - -"It's been done already. Not about Broster Street, but about other -tenements. Tenements as a subject are played out. The public isn't -interested in them. Besides, it wouldn't be any use. You can't tree the -man who is really responsible, unless you can spend thousands scaring -up evidence. The land belongs in the first place to some corporation or -other. They lease it to a lessee. When there's a fuss, they say they -aren't responsible, it's up to the lessee. And he, bright boy, lies so -low you can't find out who it is." - -"But we could try," urged Betty. - -Smith looked at her curiously. The cause was plainly one that lay near -to her heart. Her face was flushed and eager. He wavered, and, having -wavered, he did what no practical man should do. He allowed sentiment -to interfere with business. He knew that a series of articles on -Broster Street would probably be so much dead weight on the paper, -something to be skipped by the average reader, but he put the thought -aside. - -"Very well," he said. "If you care to turn in a few crisp remarks on -the subject, I'll print them." - -Betty's first instalment was ready on the following morning. It was a -curious composition. A critic might have classed it with Kid Brady's -reminiscences, for there was a complete absence of literary style. It -was just a wail of pity, and a cry of indignation, straight from the -heart and split up into paragraphs. - -Smith read it with interest, and sent it off to the printer unaltered. - -"Have another ready for next week, Comrade Brown," he said. "It's a -long shot, but this might turn out to be just what we need." - -And when, two days after the publication of the number containing the -article, Mr. Martin Parker called at the office, he felt that the long -shot had won out. - -He was holding forth on life in general to Betty shortly before the -luncheon hour when Pugsy Maloney entered bearing a card. - -"Martin Parker?" said Smith, taking it. "I don't know him. We make new -friends daily." - -"He's a guy wit' a tall-shaped hat," volunteered Master Maloney, "an' -he's wearing a dude suit an' shiny shoes." - -"Comrade Parker," said Smith approvingly, "has evidently not been blind -to the importance of a visit to _Peaceful Moments_. He has dressed -himself in his best. He has felt, rightly, that this is no occasion for -the flannel suit and the old straw hat. I would not have it otherwise. -It is the right spirit. Show the guy in. We will give him audience." - -Pugsy withdrew. - -Mr. Martin Parker proved to be a man who might have been any age -between thirty-five and forty-five. He had a dark face and a black -mustache. As Pugsy had stated, in effect, he wore a morning coat, -trousers with a crease which brought a smile of kindly approval to -Smith's face, and patent-leather shoes of pronounced shininess. - -"I want to see the editor," he said. - -"Will you take a seat?" said Smith. - -He pushed a chair toward the visitor, who seated himself with the care -inspired by a perfect trouser crease. There was a momentary silence -while he selected a spot on the table on which to place his hat. - -"I have come about a private matter," he said, looking meaningly at -Betty, who got up and began to move toward the door. Smith nodded to -her, and she went out. - -"Say," said Mr. Parker, "hasn't something happened to this paper these -last few weeks? It used not to take such an interest in things, used -it?" - -"You are very right," responded Smith. "Comrade Renshaw's methods were -good in their way. I have no quarrel with Comrade Renshaw. But he did -not lead public thought. He catered exclusively to children with water -on the brain and men and women with solid ivory skulls. I feel that -there are other and larger publics. I cannot content myself with -ladling out a weekly dole of predigested mental breakfast food. I--" - -"Then you, I guess," said Mr. Parker, "are responsible for this Broster -Street thing?" - -"At any rate, I approve of it and put it in the paper. If any husky -guy, as Comrade Maloney would put it, is anxious to aim a swift kick at -the author of that article, he can aim it at me." - -"I see," said Mr. Parker. He paused. "It said 'Number one' in the -paper. Does that mean there are going to be more of them?" - -"There is no flaw in your reasoning. There are to be several more." - -Mr. Parker looked at the door. It was closed. He bent forward. - -"See here," he said, "I'm going to talk straight, if you'll let me." - -"Assuredly, Comrade Parker. There must be no secrets, no restraint -between us. I would not have you go away and say to yourself, 'Did I -make my meaning clear? Was I too elusive?'" - -Mr. Parker scratched the floor with the point of a gleaming shoe. He -seemed to be searching for words. - -"Say on," urged Smith. "Have you come to point out some flaw in that -article? Does it fall short in any way of your standard for such work?" - -Mr. Parker came to the point. - -"If I were you," he said, "I should quit it. I shouldn't go on with -those articles." - -"Why?" enquired Smith. - -"Because," said Mr. Parker. - -He looked at Smith, and smiled slowly, an ingratiating smile. Smith did -not respond. - -"I do not completely gather your meaning," he said. "I fear I must ask -you to hand it to me with still more breezy frankness. Do you speak -from purely friendly motives? Are you advising me to discontinue the -series because you fear that it will damage the literary reputation of -the paper? Do you speak solely as a literary connoisseur? Or are there -other reasons?" - -Mr. Parker leaned forward. - -"The gentleman whom I represent--" - -"Then this is no matter of your own personal taste? There is another?" - -"See here, I'm representing a gentleman who shall be nameless, and I've -come on his behalf to tip you off to quit this game. These articles of -yours are liable to cause him inconvenience." - -"Financial? Do you mean that he may possibly have to spend some of his -spare doubloons in making Broster Street fit to live in?" - -"It's not so much the money. It's the publicity. There are reasons why -he would prefer not to have it made too public that he's the owner of -the tenements down there." - -"Well, he knows what to do. If he makes Broster Street fit for a -not-too-fastidious pig to live in--" - -Mr. Parker coughed. A tentative cough, suggesting that the situation -was now about to enter upon a more delicate phase. - -"Now, see here, sir," he said, "I'm going to be frank. I'm going to put -my cards on the table, and see if we can't fix something up. Now, see -here. We don't want any unpleasantness. You aren't in this business for -your health, eh? You've got your living to make, same as everybody -else, I guess. Well, this is how it stands. To a certain extent, I -don't mind owning, since we're being frank with one another, you've got -us--that's to say, this gentleman I'm speaking of--in a cleft stick. -Frankly, that Broster Street story of yours has attracted attention--I -saw it myself in two Sunday papers--and if there's going to be any more -of them--Well, now, here's a square proposition. How much do you want -to stop those articles? That's straight. I've been frank with you, and -I want you to be frank with me. What's your figure? Name it, and if you -don't want the earth I guess we needn't quarrel." - -He looked expectantly at Smith. Smith, gazing sadly at him through his -monocle, spoke quietly, with the restrained dignity of some old Roman -senator dealing with the enemies of the Republic. - -"Comrade Parker," he said, "I fear that you have allowed your -intercourse with this worldly city to undermine your moral sense. It is -useless to dangle rich bribes before the editorial eyes. _Peaceful -Moments_ cannot be muzzled. You doubtless mean well, according to -your somewhat murky lights, but we are not for sale, except at fifteen -cents weekly. From the hills of Maine to the Everglades of Florida, -from Portland, Oregon, to Melonsquashville, Tennessee, one sentence is -in every man's mouth. And what is that sentence? I give you three -guesses. You give it up? It is this: '_Peaceful Moments_ cannot be -muzzled!'" - -Mr. Parker rose. - -"Nothing doing, then?" he said. - -"Nothing." - -Mr. Parker picked up his hat. - -"See here," he said, a grating note in his voice, hitherto smooth and -conciliatory, "I've no time to fool away talking to you. I've given you -your chance. Those stories are going to be stopped. And if you've any -sense in you at all, you'll stop them yourself before you get hurt. -That's all I've got to say, and that goes." - -He went out, closing the door behind him with a bang that added -emphasis to his words. - -"All very painful and disturbing," murmured Smith. "Comrade Brown!" he -called. - -Betty came in. - -"Did our late visitor bite a piece out of you on his way out? He was in -the mood to do something of the sort." - -"He seemed angry," said Betty. - -"He _was_ angry," said Smith. "Do you know what has happened, -Comrade Brown? With your very first contribution to the paper you have -hit the bull's-eye. You have done the state some service. Friend Parker -came as the representative of the owner of those Broster Street houses. -He wanted to buy us off. We've got them scared, or he wouldn't have -shown his hand with such refreshing candor. Have you any engagements at -present?" - -"I was just going out to lunch, if you could spare me." - -"Not alone. This lunch is on the office. As editor of this journal I -will entertain you, if you will allow me, to a magnificent banquet. -_Peaceful Moments_ is grateful to you. _Peaceful Moments,"_ -he added, with the contented look the Far West editor must have worn as -the bullet came through the window, "is, owing to you, going some now." - - * * * * * - -When they returned from lunch, and reentered the outer office, Pugsy -Maloney, raising his eyes for a moment from his book, met them with the -information that another caller had arrived and was waiting in the -inner room. - -"Dere's a guy in dere waitin' to see youse," he said, jerking his head -towards the door. - -"Yet another guy? This is our busy day. Did he give a name?" - -"Says his name's Maude," said Master Maloney, turning a page. - -"Maude!" cried Betty, falling back. - -Smith beamed. - -"Old John Maude!" he said. "Great! I've been wondering what on earth -he's been doing with himself all this time. Good-old John! You'll like -him," he said, turning, and stopped abruptly, for he was speaking to -the empty air. Betty had disappeared. - -"Where's Miss Brown, Pugsy?" he said. "Where did she go?" - -Pugsy vouchsafed another jerk of the head, in the direction of the -outer door. - -"She's beaten it," he said. "I seen her make a break for de stairs. -Guess she's forgotten to remember somet'ing," he added indifferently, -turning once more to his romance of prairie life. "Goils is -bone-heads." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE MAN AT THE ASTOR - - -Refraining from discussing with Master Maloney the alleged -bone-headedness of girls, Smith went through into the inner room, and -found John sitting in the editorial chair, glancing through the latest -number of _Peaceful Moments_. - -"Why, John, friend of my youth," he said, "where have you been hiding -all this time? I called you up at your office weeks ago, and an acid -voice informed me that you were no longer there. Have you been fired?" - -"Yes," said John. "Why aren't you on the _News_ any more? Nobody -seemed to know where you were, till I met Faraday this morning, who -told me you were here." - -Smith was conscious of an impression that in some subtle way John had -changed since their last meeting. For a moment he could not have said -what had given him this impression. Then it flashed upon him. Before, -John had always been, like Mrs. Fezziwig in "The Christmas Carol," one -vast substantial smile. He had beamed cheerfully on what to him was -evidently the best of all possible worlds. Now, however, it would seem -that doubts had occurred to him as to the universal perfection of -things. His face was graver. His eyes and his mouth alike gave evidence -of disturbing happenings. - -In the matter of confidences, Smith was not a believer in spade-work. -If they were offered to him, he was invariably sympathetic, but he -never dug for them. That John had something on his mind was obvious, -but he intended to allow him, if he wished to reveal it, to select his -own time for the revelation. - -John, for his part, had no intention of sharing this particular trouble -even with Smith. It was too new and intimate for discussion. - -It was only since his return to New York that the futility of his quest -had really come home to him. In the belief of having at last escaped -from Mervo he had been inclined to overlook obstacles. It had seemed to -him, while he waited for his late subjects to dismiss him, that, once -he could move, all would be simple. New York had dispelled that idea. -Logically, he saw with perfect clearness, there was no reason why he -and Betty should ever meet again. - -To retain a spark of hope beneath this knowledge was not easy and John, -having been in New York now for nearly three weeks without any -encouragement from the fates, was near the breaking point. A gray -apathy had succeeded the frenzied restlessness of the first few days. -The necessity for some kind of work that would to some extent occupy -his mind was borne in upon him, and the thought of Smith had followed -naturally. If anybody could supply distraction, it would be Smith. -Faraday, another of the temporary exiles from the _News_, whom he -had met by chance in Washington Square, had informed him of Smith's new -position and of the renaissance of _Peaceful Moments_, and he had -hurried to the office to present himself as an unskilled but willing -volunteer to the cause. Inspection of the current number of the paper -had convinced him that the _Peaceful Moments_ atmosphere, if it -could not cure, would at least relieve. - -"Faraday told me all about what you had done to this paper," he said. -"I came to see if you would let me in on it. I want work." - -"Excellent!" said Smith. "Consider yourself one of us." - -"I've never done any newspaper work, of course, but--" - -"Never!" cried Smith. "Is it so long since the dear old college days -that you forget the _Gridiron?"_ - -In their last year at Harvard, Smith and John, assisted by others of a -congenial spirit, had published a small but lively magazine devoted to -college topics, with such success--from one point of view--that on the -appearance of the third number it was suppressed by the authorities. - -"You were the life and soul of the _Gridiron,"_ went on Smith. -"You shall be the life and soul of _Peaceful Moments_. You have -special qualifications for the post. A young man once called at the -office of a certain newspaper, and asked for a job. 'Have you any -specialty?' enquired the editor. 'Yes,' replied the bright boy, 'I am -rather good at invective.' 'Any particular kind of invective?' queried -the man up top. 'No,' replied our hero, 'just general invective.' Such -is your case, my son. You have a genius for general invective. You are -the man _Peaceful Moments_ has been waiting for." - -"If you think so--" - -"I do think so. Let us consider it settled. And now, tell me, what do -you think of our little journal?" - -"Well--aren't you asking for trouble? Isn't the proprietor--?" - -Smith waved his hand airily. - -"Dismiss him from your mind," he said. "He is a gentleman of the name -of Benjamin Scobell, who--" - -"Benjamin Scobell!" - -"Who lives in Europe and never sees the paper. I happen to know that he -is anxious to get rid of it. His solicitors have instructions to accept -any reasonable offer. If only I could close in on a small roll, I would -buy it myself, for by the time we have finished our improvements, it -will be a sound investment for the young speculator. Have you read the -Broster Street story? It has hit somebody already. Already some unknown -individual is grasping the lemon in his unwilling fingers. And--to -remove any diffidence you may still have about lending your sympathetic -aid--that was written by no hardened professional, but by our -stenographer. She'll be in soon, and I'll introduce you. You'll like -her. I do not despair, later on, of securing an epoch-making -contribution from Comrade Maloney." - -As he spoke, that bulwark of the paper entered in person, bearing an -envelope. - -"Ah, Comrade Maloney," said Smith. "Is that your contribution? What is -the subject? 'Mustangs I have Met?'" - -"A kid brought dis," said Pugsy. "Dere ain't no answer." - -Smith read the letter with raised eyebrows. - -"We shall have to get another stenographer," he said. "The gifted -author of our Broster Street series has quit." - -"Oh!" said John, not interested. - -"Quit at a moment's notice and without explanation. I can't understand -it." - -"I guess she had some reason," said John, absently. He was inclined to -be absent during these days. His mind was always stealing away to -occupy itself with the problem of the discovery of Betty. The motives -that might have led a stenographer to resign her position had no -interest for him. - -Smith shrugged his shoulders. - -"Oh, Woman, Woman!" he said resignedly. - -"She says she will send in some more Broster Street stuff, though, -which is a comfort. But I'm sorry she's quit. You would have liked -her." - -"Yes?" said John. - -At this moment there came from the outer office a piercing squeal. It -penetrated into the editorial sanctum, losing only a small part of its -strength on the way. Smith looked up with patient sadness. - -"If Comrade Maloney," he said, "is going to take to singing during -business hours, I fear this journal must put up its shutters. -Concentrated thought will be out of the question." - -He moved to the door and flung it open as a second squeal rent the air, -and found Master Maloney writhing in the grip of a tough-looking person -in patched trousers and a stained sweater. His left ear was firmly -grasped between the stranger's finger and thumb. - -The tough person released Pugsy, and, having eyed Smith keenly for a -moment, made a dash for the stairs, leaving the guardian of the gate -rubbing his ear resentfully. - -"He blows in," said Master Maloney, aggrieved, "an' asks is de editor -in. I tells him no, an' he nips me by the ear when I tries to stop him -buttin' t'roo." - -"Comrade Maloney," said Smith, "you are a martyr. What would Horatius -have done if somebody had nipped him by the ear when he was holding the -bridge? It might have made all the difference. Did the gentleman state -his business?" - -"Nope. Just tried to butt t'roo." - -"One of these strong, silent men. The world is full of us. These are -the perils of the journalistic life. You will be safer and happier when -you are a cowboy, Comrade Maloney." - -Smith was thoughtful as he returned to the inner room. - -"Things are warming up, John," he said. "The sport who has just left -evidently came just to get a sight of me. Otherwise, why should he tear -himself away without stopping for a chat. I suppose he was sent to mark -me down for whichever gang Comrade Parker is employing." - -"What do you mean?" said John. "All this gets past me. Who is Parker?" - -Smith related the events leading up to Mr. Parker's visit, and -described what had happened on that occasion. - -"So, before you throw in your lot with this journal," he concluded, "it -would be well to think the matter over. You must weigh the pros and -cons. Is your passion for literature such that you do not mind being -put out of business with a black-jack for the cause? Will the knowledge -that a low-browed gentleman is waiting round the corner for you -stimulate or hinder you in your work? There's no doubt now that we are -up against a tough crowd." - -"By Jove!" said John. "I hadn't a notion it was like that." - -"You feel, then, that on the whole--" - -"I feel that on the whole this is just the business I've been hunting -for. You couldn't keep me out of it now with an ax." - -Smith looked at him curiously, but refrained from enquiries. That there -must be something at the back of this craving for adventure and -excitement, he knew. The easy-going John he had known of old would -certainly not have deserted the danger zone, but he would not have -welcomed entry to it so keenly. It was plain that he was hungry for -work that would keep him from thought. Smith was eminently a patient -young man, and though the problem of what upheaval had happened to -change John to such an extent interested him greatly, he was prepared -to wait for explanations. - -Of the imminence of the danger he was perfectly aware. He had known -from the first that Mr. Parker's concluding words were not an empty -threat. His experience as a reporter had given him the knowledge that -is only given in its entirety to police and newspaper men: that there -are two New Yorks--one, a modern, well-policed city, through which one -may walk from end to end without encountering adventure; the other, a -city as full of sinister intrigue, of whisperings and conspiracies, of -battle, murder, and sudden death in dark byways, as any town of -mediaeval Italy. Given certain conditions, anything may happen in New -York. And Smith realized that these conditions now prevailed in his own -case. He had come into conflict with New York's underworld. -Circumstances had placed him below the surface, where only his wits -could help him. - -He would have been prepared to see the thing through by himself, but -there was no doubt that John as an ally would be a distinct comfort. - -Nevertheless, he felt compelled to give his friend a last chance of -withdrawing. - -"You know," he said, "there is really no reason why you should--" - -"But I'm going to," interrupted John. "That's all there is to it. -What's going to happen, anyway? I don't know anything about these -gangs. I thought they spent all their time shooting each other up." - -"Not all, unfortunately, Comrade John. They are always charmed to take -on a small job like this on the side." - -"And what does it come to? Do we have an entire gang camping on our -trail in a solid mass, or only one or two toughs?" - -"Merely a section, I should imagine. Comrade Parker would go to the -main boss of the gang--Bat Jarvis, if it was the Groome Street gang, or -Spider Reilly and Dude Dawson if he wanted the Three Points or the -Table Hill lot. The boss would chat over the matter with his own -special partners, and they would fix it up among themselves. The rest -of the gang would probably know nothing about it. The fewer in the -game, you see, the fewer to divide the Parker dollars. So what we have -to do is to keep a lookout for a dozen or so aristocrats of that -dignified deportment which comes from constant association with the -main boss, and, if we can elude these, all will be well." - - * * * * * - -It was by Smith's suggestion that the editorial staff of _Peaceful -Moments_ dined that night at the Astor roof-garden. - -"The tired brain," he said, "needs to recuperate. To feed on such a -night as this in some low-down hostelry on the level of the street, -with German waiters breathing heavily down the back of one's neck and -two fiddles and a piano hitting up ragtime about three feet from one's -tympanum, would be false economy. Here, fanned by cool breezes and -surrounded by passably fair women and brave men, one may do a certain -amount of tissue-restoring. Moreover, there is little danger up here of -being slugged by our moth-eaten acquaintance of this afternoon. We -shall probably find him waiting for us at the main entrance with a -black-jack, but till then--" - -He turned with gentle grace to his soup. It was a warm night, and the -roof-garden was full. From where they sat they could see the million -twinkling lights of the city. John, watching them, as he smoked a -cigarette at the conclusion of the meal, had fallen into a dream. He -came to himself with a start, to find Smith in conversation with a -waiter. - -"Yes, my name is Smith," he was saying. - -The waiter retired to one of the tables and spoke to a young man -sitting there. John, recollected having seen this solitary diner -looking in their direction once or twice during dinner, but the fact -had not impressed him. - -"What's the matter?" he asked. - -"The man at that table sent over to ask if my name was Smith. It was. -He is now coming along to chat in person. I wonder why. I don't know -him from Adam." - -The stranger was threading his way between the tables. - -"Can I have a word with you, Mr. Smith?" he said. The waiter brought a -chair and he seated himself. - -"By the way," said Smith, "my friend, Mr. Maude. Your own name will -doubtless come up in the course of general chitchat over the -coffee-cups." - -"Not on your tintype it won't," said the stranger decidedly. "It won't -be needed. Is Mr. Maude on your paper? That's all right, then. I can go -ahead." - -He turned to Smith. - -"It's about that Broster Street thing." - -"More fame!" murmured Smith. "We certainly are making a hit with the -great public over Broster Street." - -"Well, you understand certain parties have got it in against you?" - -"A charming conversationalist, one Comrade Parker, hinted at something -of the sort in a recent conversation. We shall endeavor, however, to -look after ourselves." - -"You'll need to. The man behind is a big bug." - -"Who is he?" - -The stranger shrugged his shoulders. - -"Search me. You wouldn't expect him to give that away." - -"Then on what system have you estimated the size of the gentleman's -bug-hood? What makes you think that he's a big bug?" - -"By the number of dollars he was ready to put up to have you put -through." - -Smith's eyes gleamed for an instant, but he spoke as coolly as ever. - -"Oh!" he said. "And which gang has he hired?" - -"I couldn't say. He--his agent, that is--came to Bat Jarvis. Bat for -some reason turned the job down." - -"He did? Why?" - -"Search me. Nobody knows. But just as soon as he heard who it was he -was being asked to lay for, he turned it down cold. Said none of his -fellows was going to put a finger on anyone who had anything to do with -your paper. I don't know what you've been doing to Bat, but he sure is -the long-lost brother to you." - -"A powerful argument in favor of kindness to animals!" said Smith. "One -of his celebrated stud of cats came into the possession of our -stenographer. What did she do? Instead of having the animal made into a -nourishing soup, she restored it to its bereaved owner. Observe the -sequel. We are very much obliged to Comrade Jarvis." - -"He sent me along," went on the stranger, "to tell you to watch out, -because one of the other gangs was dead sure to take on the job. And he -said you were to know that he wasn't mixed up in it. Well, that's all. -I'll be pushing along. I've a date. Glad to have met you, Mr. Maude. -Good-night." - -For a few moments after he had gone, Smith and John sat smoking in -silence. - -"What's the time?" asked Smith suddenly. "If it's not too late--Hello, -here comes our friend once more." - -The stranger came up to the table, a light overcoat over his dress -clothes. From the pocket of this he produced a watch. - -"Force of habit," he said apologetically, handing it to John. "You'll -pardon me. Good-night again." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE HIGHFIELD - - -John looked after him, open-mouthed. The events of the evening had -been a revelation to him. He had not realized the ramifications of New -York's underworld. That members of the gangs should appear in gorgeous -raiment in the Astor roof-garden was a surprise. "And now," said Smith, -"that our friend has so sportingly returned your watch, take a look at -it and see the time. Nine? Excellent. We shall do it comfortably." - -"What's that?" asked John. - -"Our visit to the Highfield. A young friend of mine who is fighting -there to-night sent me tickets a few days ago. In your perusal of -_Peaceful Moments_ you may have chanced to see mention of one Kid -Brady. He is the man. I was intending to go in any case, but an idea -has just struck me that we might combine pleasure with business. Has it -occurred to you that these black-jack specialists may drop in on us at -the office? And, if so, that Comrade Maloney's statement that we are -not in may be insufficient to keep them out? Comrade Brady would be an -invaluable assistant. And as we are his pugilistic sponsors, without -whom he would not have got this fight at all, I think we may say that -he will do any little thing we may ask of him." - -It was certainly true that, from the moment the paper had taken up his -cause, Kid Brady's star had been in the ascendant. The sporting pages -of the big dailies had begun to notice him, until finally the -management of the Highfield Club had signed him on for a ten-round bout -with a certain Cyclone Dick Fisher. - -"He should," continued Smith, "if equipped in any degree with the finer -feelings, be bubbling over with gratitude toward us. At any rate, it is -worth investigating." - - * * * * * - -Far away from the comfortable glare of Broadway, in a place of -disheveled houses and insufficient street-lamps, there stands the old -warehouse which modern enterprise has converted into the Highfield -Athletic and Gymnastic Club. The imagination, stimulated by the title, -conjures up picture-covered walls, padded chairs, and seas of white -shirt front. The Highfield differs in some respects from this fancy -picture. Indeed, it would be hard to find a respect in which it does -not differ. But these names are so misleading! The title under which -the Highfield used to be known till a few years back was "Swifty -Bob's." It was a good, honest title. You knew what to export, and if -you attended seances at Swifty Bob's you left your gold watch and your -little savings at home. But a wave of anti-pugilistic feeling swept -over the New York authorities. Promoters of boxing contests found -themselves, to their acute disgust, raided by the police. The industry -began to languish. Persons avoided places where at any moment the -festivities might be marred by an inrush of large men in blue uniforms, -armed with locust sticks. - -And then some big-brained person suggested the club idea, which stands -alone as an example of American dry humor. At once there were no boxing -contests in New York; Swifty Bob and his fellows would have been -shocked at the idea of such a thing. All that happened now was -exhibition sparring bouts between members of the club. It is true that -next day the papers very tactlessly reported the friendly exhibition -spar as if it had been quite a serious affair, but that was not the -fault of Swifty Bob. - -Kid Brady, the chosen of _Peaceful Moments_, was billed for a -"ten-round exhibition contest," to be the main event of the evening's -entertainment. - - * * * * * - -A long journey on the subway took them to the neighborhood, and after -considerable wandering they arrived at their destination. - -Smith's tickets were for a ring-side box, a species of sheep pen of -unpolished wood, with four hard chairs in it. The interior of the -Highfield Athletic and Gymnastic Club was severely free from anything -in the shape of luxury and ornament. Along the four walls were raised -benches in tiers. On these were seated as tough-looking a collection of -citizens as one might wish to see. On chairs at the ringside were the -reporters with tickers at their sides. In the center of the room, -brilliantly lighted by half-a-dozen electric chandeliers, was the ring. - -There were preliminary bouts before the main event. A burly gentleman -in shirt-sleeves entered the ring, followed by two slim youths in -fighting costume and a massive person in a red jersey, blue serge -trousers, and yellow braces, who chewed gum with an abstracted air -throughout the proceedings. - -The burly gentleman gave tongue in a voice that cleft the air like a -cannon ball. - -"Ex-hibit-i-on four-round bout between Patsy Milligan and Tommy -Goodley, members of this club. Patsy on my right, Tommy on my left. -Gentlemen will kindly stop smokin'." - -The audience did nothing of the sort. Possibly they did not apply the -description to themselves. Possibly they considered the appeal a mere -formula. Somewhere in the background a gong sounded, and Patsy, from -the right, stepped briskly forward to meet Tommy, approaching from the -left. - -The contest was short but energetic. At intervals the combatants would -cling affectionately to one another, and on these occasions the -red-jerseyed man, still chewing gum and still wearing the same air of -being lost in abstract thought, would split up the mass by the simple -method of ploughing his way between the pair. Toward the end of the -first round Thomas, eluding a left swing, put Patrick neatly to the -floor, where the latter remained for the necessary ten seconds. - -The remaining preliminaries proved disappointing. So much so that in -the last of the series a soured sportsman on one of the benches near -the roof began in satirical mood to whistle the "Merry Widow Waltz." It -was here that the red-jerseyed thinker for the first and last time came -out of his meditative trance. He leaned over the ropes, and spoke, -without heat, but firmly: - -"If that guy whistling back up yonder thinks he can do better than -these boys, he can come right down into the ring." - -The whistling ceased. - -There was a distinct air of relief when the last preliminary was -finished and preparations for the main bout began. It did not commence -at once. There were formalities to be gone through, introductions and -the like. The burly gentleman reappeared from nowhere, ushering into -the ring a sheepishly grinning youth in a flannel suit. - -"In-ter-_doo_-cin' Young Leary," he bellowed impressively, "a noo -member of this club, who will box some good boy here in September." - -He walked to the other side of the ring and repeated the remark. A -raucous welcome was accorded to the new member. - -Two other notable performers were introduced in a similar manner, and -then the building became suddenly full of noise, for a tall youth in a -bath robe, attended by a little army of assistants, had entered the -ring. One of the army carried a bright green bucket, on which were -painted in white letters the words "Cyclone Dick Fisher." A moment -later there was another, though a far less, uproar, as Kid Brady, his -pleasant face wearing a self-conscious smirk, ducked under the ropes -and sat down in the opposite corner. - -"Ex-hib-it-i-on ten-round bout," thundered the burly gentleman, -"between Cyclone Dick Fisher--" - -Loud applause. Mr. Fisher was one of the famous, a fighter with a -reputation from New York to San Francisco. He was generally considered -the most likely man to give the hitherto invincible Jimmy Garvin a hard -battle for the light-weight championship. - -"Oh, you Dick!" roared the crowd. - -Mr. Fisher bowed benevolently. - -"--and Kid Brady, member of this--" - -There was noticeably less applause for the Kid. He was an unknown. A -few of those present had heard of his victories in the West, but these -were but a small section of the crowd. When the faint applause had -ceased, Smith rose to his feet. - -"Oh, you Kid!" he observed encouragingly. "I should not like Comrade -Brady," he said, reseating himself, "to think that he has no friend but -his poor old mother, as occurred on a previous occasion." - -The burly gentleman, followed by the two armies of assistants, dropped -down from the ring, and the gong sounded. - -Mr. Fisher sprang from his corner as if somebody had touched a spring. -He seemed to be of the opinion that if you are a cyclone, it is never -too soon to begin behaving like one. He danced round the Kid with an -india-rubber agility. The _Peaceful Moments_ representative -exhibited more stolidity. Except for the fact that he was in fighting -attitude, with one gloved hand moving slowly in the neighborhood of his -stocky chest, and the other pawing the air on a line with his square -jaw, one would have said that he did not realize the position of -affairs. He wore the friendly smile of the good-natured guest who is -led forward by his hostess to join in some game to amuse the children. - -Suddenly his opponent's long left shot out. The Kid, who had been -strolling forward, received it under the chin, and continued to stroll -forward as if nothing of note had happened. He gave the impression of -being aware that Mr. Fisher had committed a breach of good taste and of -being resolved to pass it off with ready tact. - -The Cyclone, having executed a backward leap, a forward leap, and a -feint, landed heavily with both hands. The Kid's genial smile did not -even quiver, but he continued to move forward. His opponent's left -flashed out again, but this time, instead of ignoring the matter, the -Kid replied with a heavy right swing, and Mr. Fisher leaping back, -found himself against the ropes. By the time he had got out of that -uncongenial position, two more of the Kid's swings had found their -mark. Mr. Fisher, somewhat perturbed, scuttled out into the middle of -the ring, the Kid following in his self-contained, stolid way. - -The Cyclone now became still more cyclonic. He had a left arm which -seemed to open out in joints like a telescope. Several times when the -Kid appeared well out of distance there was a thud as a brown glove -ripped in over his guard and jerked his head back. But always he kept -boring in, delivering an occasional right to the body with the pleased -smile of an infant destroying a Noah's ark with a tack-hammer. Despite -these efforts, however, he was plainly getting all the worst of it. -Energetic Mr. Fisher, relying on his long left, was putting in three -blows to his one. When the gong sounded, ending the first round, the -house was practically solid for the Cyclone. Whoops and yells rose from -everywhere. The building rang with shouts of, "Oh, you Dick!" - -Smith turned sadly to John. - -"It seems to me," he said, "that this merry meeting looks like doing -Comrade Brady no good. I should not be surprised at any moment to see -his head bounce off on to the floor." - -Rounds two and three were a repetition of round one. The Cyclone raged -almost unchecked about the ring. In one lightning rally in the third he -brought his right across squarely on to the Kid's jaw. It was a blow -which should have knocked any boxer out. The Kid merely staggered -slightly, and returned to business still smiling. - -With the opening of round four there came a subtle change. The -Cyclone's fury was expending itself. That long left shot out less -sharply. Instead of being knocked back by it, the _Peaceful -Moments_ champion now took the hits in his stride, and came -shuffling in with his damaging body-blows. There were cheers and "Oh, -you Dick's!" at the sound of the gong, but there was an appealing note -in them this time. The gallant sportsmen whose connection with boxing -was confined to watching other men fight and betting on what they -considered a certainty, and who would have expired promptly if anyone -had tapped them sharply on their well-filled vests, were beginning to -fear that they might lose their money after all. - -In the fifth round the thing became a certainty. Like the month of -March, the Cyclone, who had come in like a lion, was going out like a -lamb. A slight decrease in the pleasantness of the Kid's smile was -noticeable. His expression began to resemble more nearly the gloomy -importance of the _Peaceful Moments_ photographs. Yells of agony -from panic-stricken speculators around the ring began to smite the -rafters. The Cyclone, now but a gentle breeze, clutched repeatedly, -hanging on like a leech till removed by the red-jerseyed referee. - -Suddenly a grisly silence fell upon the house. For the Kid, battered, -but obviously content, was standing in the middle of the ring, while on -the ropes the Cyclone, drooping like a wet sock, was sliding slowly to -the floor. - -"_Peaceful Moments_ wins," said Smith. "An omen, I fancy, Comrade -John." - -Penetrating into the Kid's dressing-room some moments later, the -editorial staff found the winner of the ten-round exhibition bout -between members of the club seated on a chair having his right leg -rubbed by a shock-headed man in a sweater, who had been one of his -seconds during the conflict. The Kid beamed as they entered. - -"Gents," he said, "come right in. Mighty glad to see you." - -"It is a relief to me, Comrade Brady," said Smith, "to find that you -can see us. I had expected to find that Comrade Fisher's purposeful -wallops had completely closed your star-likes." - -"Sure, I never felt them. He's a good, quick boy, is Dick, but," -continued the Kid with powerful imagery "he couldn't hit a hole in a -block of ice-cream, not if he was to use a coke-hammer." - -"And yet at one period in the proceedings," said Smith, "I fancied that -your head would come unglued at the neck. But the fear was merely -transient. When you began to get going, why, then I felt like some -watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken, or like -stout Cortez when with eagle eyes he stared at the Pacific." - -The Kid blinked. - -"How's that?" he enquired. - -"And why did I feel like that, Comrade Brady? I will tell you. Because -my faith in you was justified. Because there before me stood the ideal -fighting editor of _Peaceful Moments_. It is not a post that any -weakling can fill. Mere charm of manner cannot qualify a man for the -position. No one can hold down the job simply by having a kind heart or -being good at comic songs. No. We want a man of thews and sinews, a man -who would rather be hit on the head with a half-brick than not. And -you, Comrade Brady, are such a man." - -The shock-headed man, who during this conversation had been -concentrating himself on his subject's left leg now announced that he -guessed that would about do, and having advised the Kid not to stop and -pick daisies, but to get into his clothes at once before he caught a -chill, bade the company goodnight and retired. - -Smith shut the door. - -"Comrade Brady," he said, "you know those articles about the tenements -we've been having in the paper?" - -"Sure. I read 'em. They're to the good. It was about time some strong -josher came and put it across 'em." - -"So we thought. Comrade Parker, however, totally disagreed with us." - -"Parker?" - -"That's what I'm coming to," said Smith. "The day before yesterday a -man named Parker called at the office and tried to buy us off." - -"You gave him the hook, I guess?" queried the interested Kid. - -"To such an extent, Comrade Brady," said Smith, "that he left breathing -threatenings and slaughter. And it is for that reason that we have -ventured to call upon you. We're pretty sure by this time that Comrade -Parker has put one of the gangs on to us." - -"You don't say!" exclaimed the Kid. "Gee! They're tough propositions, -those gangs." - -"So we've come along to you. We can look after ourselves out of the -office, but what we want is someone to help in case they try to rush us -there. In brief, a fighting editor. At all costs we must have privacy. -No writer can prune and polish his sentences to his satisfaction if he -is compelled constantly to break off in order to eject boisterous -toughs. We therefore offer you the job of sitting in the outer room and -intercepting these bravoes before they can reach us. The salary we -leave to you. There are doubloons and to spare in the old oak chest. -Take what you need and put the rest--if any--back. How does the offer -strike you, Comrade Brady?" - -"Gents," said the Kid, "it's this way." - -He slipped into his coat, and resumed. - -"Now that I've made good by licking Dick, they'll be giving me a chance -of a big fight. Maybe with Jimmy Garvin. Well, if that happens, see -what I mean? I'll have to be going away somewhere and getting into -training. I shouldn't be able to come and sit with you. But, if you -gents feel like it, I'd be mighty glad to come in till I'm wanted to go -into training camp." - -"Great," said Smith. "And touching salary--" - -"Shucks!" said the Kid with emphasis. "Nix on the salary thing. I -wouldn't take a dime. If it hadn't 'a' been for you, I'd have been -waiting still for a chance of lining up in the championship class. -That's good enough for me. Any old thing you want me to do, I'll do it, -and glad to." - -"Comrade Brady," said Smith warmly, "you are, if I may say so, the -goods. You are, beyond a doubt, supremely the stuff. We three, then, -hand-in-hand, will face the foe, and if the foe has good, sound sense, -he will keep right away. You appear to be ready. Shall we meander -forth?" - -The building was empty and the lights were out when they emerged from -the dressing-room. They had to grope their way in darkness. It was -raining when they reached the street, and the only signs of life were a -moist policeman and the distant glare of saloon lights down the road. - -They turned off to the left, and, after walking some hundred yards, -found themselves in a blind alley. - -"Hello!" said John. "Where have we come to?" - -Smith sighed. - -"In my trusting way," he said, "I had imagined that either you or -Comrade Brady was in charge of this expedition and taking me by a known -route to the nearest subway station. I did not think to ask. I placed -myself, without hesitation, wholly in your hands." - -"I thought the Kid knew the way," said John. - -"I was just taggin' along with you gents," protested the light-weight. -"I thought you was taking me right. This is the first time I been up -here." - -"Next time we three go on a little jaunt anywhere," said Smith -resignedly, "it would be as well to take a map and a corps of guides -with us. Otherwise we shall start for Broadway and finish up at -Minneapolis." - -They emerged from the blind alley and stood in the dark street, looking -doubtfully up and down it. - -"Aha!" said Smith suddenly. "I perceive a native. Several natives, in -fact. Quite a little covey of them. We will put our case before them, -concealing nothing, and rely on their advice to take us to our goal." - -A little knot of men was approaching from the left. In the darkness it -was impossible to say how many of them were there. Smith stepped -forward, the Kid at his side. - -"Excuse me, sir," he said to the leader, "but if you can spare me a -moment of your valuable time--" - -There was a sudden shuffle of feet on the pavement, a quick movement on -the part of the Kid, a chunky sound as of wood striking wood, and the -man Smith had been addressing fell to the ground in a heap. - -As he fell, something dropped from his hand on to the pavement with a -bump and a rattle. Stooping swiftly, the Kid picked it up, and handed -it to Smith. His fingers closed upon it. It was a short, wicked-looking -little bludgeon, the black-jack of the New York tough. - -"Get busy," advised the Kid briefly. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE FIRST BATTLE - - -The promptitude and despatch with which the Kid had attended to the -gentleman with the black-jack had not been without its effect on the -followers of the stricken one. Physical courage is not an outstanding -quality of the New York gangsman. His personal preference is for -retreat when it is a question of unpleasantness with a stranger. And, -in any case, even when warring among themselves, the gangs exhibit a -lively distaste for the hard knocks of hand-to-hand fighting. Their -chosen method of battling is to lie down on the ground and shoot. - -The Kid's rapid work on the present occasion created a good deal of -confusion. There was no doubt that much had been hoped for from speedy -attack. Also, the generalship of the expedition had been in the hands -of the fallen warrior. His removal from the sphere of active influence -had left the party without a head. And, to add to their discomfiture, -they could not account for the Kid. Smith they knew, and John was to be -accounted for, but who was this stranger with the square shoulders and -the uppercut that landed like a cannon ball? Something approaching a -panic prevailed among the gang. - -It was not lessened by the behavior of the intended victims. John was -the first to join issue. He had been a few paces behind the others -during the black-jack incident, but, dark as it was, he had seen enough -to show him that the occasion was, as Smith would have said, one for -the shrewd blow rather than the prolonged parley. With a shout, he made -a football rush into the confused mass of the enemy. A moment later -Smith and the Kid followed, and there raged over the body of the fallen -leader a battle of Homeric type. - -It was not a long affair. The rules and conditions governing the -encounter offended the delicate sensibilities of the gang. Like artists -who feel themselves trammeled by distasteful conventions, they were -damped and could not do themselves justice. Their forte was long-range -fighting with pistols. With that they felt en rapport. But this vulgar -brawling in the darkness with muscular opponents who hit hard and often -with the clenched fist was distasteful to them. They could not develop -any enthusiasm for it. They carried pistols, but it was too dark and -the combatants were too entangled to allow them to use these. - -There was but one thing to be done. Reluctant as they might be to -abandon their fallen leader, it must be done. Already they were -suffering grievously from John, the black-jack, and the lightning blows -of the Kid. For a moment they hung, wavering, then stampeded in -half-a-dozen different directions, melting into the night whence they -had come. - -John, full of zeal, pursued one fugitive some fifty yards down the -street, but his quarry, exhibiting a rare turn of speed, easily -outstripped him. - -He came back, panting, to find Smith and the Kid examining the fallen -leader of the departed ones with the aid of a match, which went out -just as John arrived. - -The Kid struck another. The head of it fell off and dropped upon the -up-turned face. The victim stirred, shook himself, sat up, and began to -mutter something in a foggy voice. - -"He's still woozy," said the Kid. - -"Still--what exactly, Comrade Brady?" - -"In the air," explained the Kid. "Bats in the belfry. Dizzy. See what I -mean? It's often like that when a feller puts one in with a bit of -weight behind it just where that one landed. Gee! I remember when I -fought Martin Kelly; I was only starting to learn the game then. Martin -and me was mixing it good and hard all over the ring, when suddenly he -puts over a stiff one right on the point. What do you think I done? -Fall down and take the count? Not on your life. I just turns round and -walks straight out of the ring to my dressing-room. Willie Harvey, who -was seconding me, comes tearing in after me, and finds me getting into -my clothes. 'What's doing, Kid?' he asks. 'I'm going fishin', Willie,' -I says. 'It's a lovely day.' 'You've lost the fight,' he says. 'Fight?' -says I. 'What fight?' See what I mean? I hadn't a notion of what had -happened. It was half an hour and more before I could remember a -thing." - -During this reminiscence, the man on the ground had contrived to clear -his mind of the mistiness induced by the Kid's upper cut. The first -sign he showed of returning intelligence was a sudden dash for safety -up the road. But he had not gone five yards when he sat down limply. - -The Kid was inspired to further reminiscence. - -"Guess he's feeling pretty poor," he said. "It's no good him trying to -run for a while after he's put his chin in the way of a real live one. -I remember when Joe Peterson put me out, way back when I was new to the -game--it was the same year I fought Martin Kelly. He had an awful -punch, had old Joe, and he put me down and out in the eighth round. -After the fight they found me on the fire-escape outside my -dressing-room. 'Come in, Kid,' says they. 'It's all right, chaps,' I -says, 'I'm dying.' Like that. 'It's all right, chaps, I'm dying.' -Same with this guy. See what I mean?" - -They formed a group about the fallen black-jack expert. - -"Pardon us," said Smith courteously, "for breaking in upon your -reverie, but if you could spare us a moment of your valuable time, -there are one or two things which we would like to know." - -"Sure thing," agreed the Kid. - -"In the first place," continued Smith, "would it be betraying -professional secrets if you told us which particular bevy of energetic -cutthroats it is to which you are attached?" - -"Gent," explained the Kid, "wants to know what's your gang." - -The man on the ground muttered something that to Smith and John was -unintelligible. - -"It would be a charity," said the former, "if some philanthropist would -give this fellow elocution lessons. Can you interpret, Comrade Brady?" - -"Says it's the Three Points," said the Kid. - -"The Three Points? That's Spider Reilly's lot. Perhaps this _is_ -Spider Reilly?" - -"Nope," said the Kid. "I know the Spider. This ain't him. This is some -other mutt." - -"Which other mutt in particular?" asked Smith. "Try and find out, -Comrade Brady. You seem to be able to understand what he says. To me, -personally, his remarks sound like the output of a gramophone with a -hot potato in its mouth." - -"Says he's Jack Repetto," announced the interpreter. - -There was another interruption at this moment. The bashful Mr. Repetto, -plainly a man who was not happy in the society of strangers, made -another attempt to withdraw. Reaching out a pair of lean hands, he -pulled the Kid's legs from under him with a swift jerk, and, wriggling -to his feet, started off again down the road. Once more, however, -desire outran performance. He got as far as the nearest street-lamp, -but no further. The giddiness seemed to overcome him again, for he -grasped the lamp-post, and, sliding slowly to the ground, sat there -motionless. - -The Kid, whose fall had jolted and bruised him, was inclined to be -wrathful and vindictive. He was the first of the three to reach the -elusive Mr. Repetto, and if that worthy had happened to be standing -instead of sitting it might have gone hard with him. But the Kid was -not the man to attack a fallen foe. He contented himself with brushing -the dust off his person and addressing a richly abusive flow of remarks -to Mr. Repetto. - -Under the rays of the lamp it was possible to discern more closely the -features of the black-jack exponent. There was a subtle but noticeable -resemblance to those of Mr. Bat Jarvis. Apparently the latter's oiled -forelock, worn low over the forehead, was more a concession to the -general fashion prevailing in gang circles than an expression of -personal taste. Mr. Repetto had it, too. In his case it was almost -white, for the fallen warrior was an albino. His eyes, which were -closed, had white lashes and were set as near together as Nature had -been able to manage without actually running them into one another. His -underlip protruded and drooped. Looking at him, one felt instinctively -that no judging committee of a beauty contest would hesitate a moment -before him. - -It soon became apparent that the light of the lamp, though bestowing -the doubtful privilege of a clearer view of Mr. Repetto's face, held -certain disadvantages. Scarcely had the staff of _Peaceful -Moments_ reached the faint yellow pool of light, in the center of -which Mr. Repetto reclined, than, with a suddenness which caused them -to leap into the air, there sounded from the darkness down the road the -crack-crack-crack of a revolver. Instantly from the opposite direction -came other shots. Three bullets cut grooves in the roadway almost at -John's feet. The Kid gave a sudden howl. Smith's hat, suddenly imbued -with life, sprang into the air and vanished, whirling into the night. - -The thought did not come to them consciously at the moment, there being -little time to think, but it was evident as soon as, diving out of the -circle of light into the sheltering darkness, they crouched down and -waited for the next move, that a somewhat skilful ambush had been -effected. The other members of the gang, who had fled with such -remarkable speed, had by no means been eliminated altogether from the -game. While the questioning of Mr. Repetto had been in progress, they -had crept back, unperceived except by Mr. Repetto himself. It being too -dark for successful shooting, it had become Mr. Repetto's task to lure -his captors into the light, which he had accomplished with considerable -skill. - -For some minutes the battle halted. There was dead silence. The circle -of light was empty now. Mr. Repetto had vanished. A tentative shot from -nowhere ripped through the air close to where Smith lay flattened on -the pavement. And then the pavement began to vibrate and give out a -curious resonant sound. Somewhere--it might be near or far--a policeman -had heard the shots, and was signaling for help to other policemen -along the line by beating on the flagstones with his night stick. The -noise grew, filling the still air. From somewhere down the road sounded -the ring of running feet. - -"De cops!" cried a voice. "Beat it!" - -Next moment the night was full of clatter. The gang was "beating it." - -Smith rose to his feet and felt his wet and muddy clothes ruefully. - -The rescue party was coming up at the gallop. - -"What's doing?" asked a voice. - -"Nothing now," said the disgusted voice of the Kid from the shadows. -"They've beaten it." - -The circle of lamplight became as if by mutual consent a general -rendezvous. Three gray-clad policemen, tough, clean-shaven men with -keen eyes and square jaws, stood there, revolvers in one hand, night -sticks in the other. Smith, hatless and muddy, joined them. John and -the Kid, the latter bleeding freely from his left ear, the lobe of -which had been chipped by a bullet, were the last to arrive. - -"What's been the rough-house?" inquired one of the policemen, mildly -interested. - -"Do you know a sport of the name of Repetto?" enquired Smith. - -"Jack Repetto? Sure." - -"He belongs to the Three Points," said another intelligent officer, as -one naming some fashionable club. - -"When next you see him," said Smith, "I should be obliged if you would -use your authority to make him buy me a new hat. I could do with -another pair of trousers, too, but I will not press the trousers. A new -hat is, however, essential. Mine has a six-inch hole in it." - -"Shot at you, did they?" said one of the policemen, as who should say, -"Tut, tut!" - -"Shot at us!" burst out the ruffled Kid. "What do you think's been -happening? Think an aeroplane ran into my ear and took half of it off? -Think the noise was somebody opening bottles of pop? Think those guys -that sneaked off down the road was just training for a Marathon?" - -"Comrade Brady," said Smith, "touches the spot. He--" - -"Say, are you Kid Brady?" enquired one of the officers. For the first -time the constabulary had begun to display real animation. - -"Reckoned I'd seen you somewhere!" said another. "You licked Cyclone -Dick all right, Kid, I hear." - -"And who but a bone-head thought he wouldn't?" demanded the third -warmly. "He could whip a dozen Cyclone Dicks in the same evening with -his eyes shut." - -"He's the next champeen," admitted the first speaker. - -"If he juts it over Jimmy Garvin," argued the second. - -"Jimmy Garvin!" cried the third. "He can whip twenty Jimmy Garvins with -his feet tied. I tell you--" - -"I am loath," observed Smith, "to interrupt this very impressive brain -barbecue, but, trivial as it may seem to you, to me there is a certain -interest in this other little matter of my ruined hat. I know that it -may strike you as hypersensitive of us to protest against being riddled -with bullets, but--" - -"Well, what's been doin'?" inquired the Force. It was a nuisance, this -perpetual harping on trifles when the deep question of the light-weight -championship of the world was under discussion, but the sooner it was -attended to, the sooner it would be over. - -John undertook to explain. - -"The Three Points laid for us," he said. "This man, Jack Repetto, was -bossing the crowd. The Kid put one over on to Jack Repetto's chin, and -we were asking him a few questions when the rest came back, and started -shooting. Then we got to cover quick, and you came up and they beat -it." - -"That," said Smith, nodding, "is a very fair _precis_ of the -evening's events. We should like you, if you will be so good, to corral -this Comrade Repetto, and see that he buys me a new hat." - -"We'll round Jack up," said one of the policemen indulgently. - -"Do it nicely," urged Smith. "Don't go hurting his feelings." - -The second policeman gave it as his opinion that Jack was getting too -gay. The third policeman conceded this. Jack, he said, had shown signs -for some time past of asking for it in the neck. It was an error on -Jack's part, he gave his hearers to understand, to assume that the lid -was completely off the great city of New York. - -"Too blamed fresh he's gettin'," the trio agreed. They seemed to think -it was too bad of Jack. - -"The wrath of the Law," said Smith, "is very terrible. We will leave -the matter, then, in your hands. In the meantime, we should be glad if -you would direct us to the nearest subway station. Just at the moment, -the cheerful lights of the Great White Way are what I seem chiefly to -need." - - * * * * * - -So ended the opening engagement of the campaign, in a satisfactory but -far from decisive victory for the _Peaceful Moments_' army. - -"The victory," said Smith, "was not bloodless. Comrade Brady's ear, my -hat--these are not slight casualties. On the other hand, the -elimination of Comrade Repetto is pleasant. I know few men whom I would -not rather meet on a lonely road than Comrade Repetto. He is one of -nature's black-jackers. Probably the thing crept upon him slowly. He -started, possibly, in a merely tentative way by slugging one of the -family circle. His aunt, let us say, or his small brother. But, once -started, he is unable to resist the craving. The thing grips him like -dram-drinking. He black-jacks now not because he really wants to, but -because he cannot help himself. There's something singularly consoling -in the thought that Comrade Repetto will no longer be among those -present." - -"There are others," said John. - -"As you justly remark," said Smith, "there are others. I am glad we -have secured Comrade Brady's services. We may need them." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -BETTY AT LARGE - - -It was not till Betty found herself many blocks distant from the office -of _Peaceful Moments_ that she checked her headlong flight. She -had run down the stairs and out into the street blindly, filled only -with that passion for escape which had swept her away from Mervo. Not -till she had dived into the human river of Broadway and reached Times -Square did she feel secure. Then, with less haste, she walked on to the -park, and sat down on a bench, to think. - -Inevitably she had placed her own construction on John's sudden -appearance in New York and at the spot where only one person in any way -connected with Mervo knew her to be. She did not know that Smith and he -were friends, and did not, therefore, suspect that the former and not -herself might be the object of his visit. Nor had any word reached her -of what had happened at Mervo after her departure. She had taken it for -granted that things had continued as she had left them; and the only -possible explanation to her of John's presence in New York was that, -acting under orders from Mr. Scobell, he had come to try and bring her -back. - -She shuddered as she conjured up the scene that must have taken place -if Pugsy had not mentioned his name and she had gone on into the inner -room. In itself the thought that, after what she had said that morning -on the island, after she had forced on him, stripping it of the -uttermost rag of disguise, the realization of how his position appeared -to her, he should have come, under orders, to bring her back, was -well-nigh unendurable. But to have met him, to have seen the man she -loved plunging still deeper into shame, would have been pain beyond -bearing. Better a thousand times than that this panic flight into the -iron wilderness of New York. - -It was cool and soothing in the park. The roar of the city was hushed. -It was pleasant to sit there and watch the squirrels playing on the -green slopes or scampering up into the branches through which one could -see the gleam of water. Her thoughts became less chaotic. The peace of -the summer afternoon stole upon her. - -It did not take her long to make up her mind that the door of -_Peaceful Moments_ was closed to her. John, not finding her, might -go away, but he would return. Reluctantly, she abandoned the paper. Her -heart was heavy when she had formed the decision. She had been as happy -at _Peaceful Moments_ as it was possible for her to be now. She -would miss Smith and the leisurely work and the feeling of being one of -a team, working in a good cause. And that, brought Broster Street back -to her mind, and she thought of the children. No, she could not abandon -them. She had started the tenement articles, and she would go on with -them. But she must do it without ever venturing into the dangerous -neighborhood of the office. - -A squirrel ran up and sat begging for a nut. Betty searched in the -grass in the hope of finding one, but came upon nothing but shells. The -squirrel bounded away, with a disdainful flick of the tail. - -Betty laughed. - -"You think of nothing but food. You ought to be ashamed to be so -greedy." - -And then it came to her suddenly that it was no trifle, this same -problem of food. - -The warm, green park seemed to grow chill and gray. Once again she must -deal with life's material side. - -Her case was at the same time better and worse than it had been on that -other occasion when she had faced the future in the French train; -better, because then New York had been to her something vague and -terrifying, while now it was her city; worse, because she could no -longer seek help from Mrs. Oakley. - -That Mrs. Oakley had given John the information which had enabled him -to discover her hiding-place, Betty felt certain. By what other -possible means could he have found it? Why Mrs. Oakley, whom she had -considered an ally, should have done so, she did not know. She -attributed it to a change of mind, a reconsideration of the case when -uninfluenced by sentiment. And yet it seemed strange. Perhaps John had -gone to her and the sight of him had won the old lady over to his side. -It might be so. At any rate, it meant that the cottage on Staten -Island, like the office of _Peaceful Moments_, was closed to her. -She must look elsewhere for help, or trust entirely to herself. - -She sat on, thinking, with grave, troubled eyes, while the shadows -lengthened and the birds rustled sleepily in the branches overhead. - - * * * * * - -Among the good qualities, none too numerous, of Mr. Bat Jarvis, of -Groome Street in the Bowery, early rising was not included. It was his -habit to retire to rest at an advanced hour, and to balance accounts by -lying abed on the following morning. This idiosyncrasy of his was well -known in the neighborhood and respected, and it was generally bold to -be both bad taste and unsafe to visit Bat's shop until near the -fashionable hour for luncheon, when the great one, shirt-sleeved and -smoking a short pipe, would appear in the doorway, looking out upon the -world and giving it to understand that he was now open to be approached -by deserving acquaintances. - -When, therefore, at ten o'clock in the morning his slumbers were cut -short by a sharp rapping at the front door, his first impression was -that he had been dreaming. When, after a brief interval, the noise was -resumed, he rose in his might and, knuckling the sleep from his eyes, -went down, tight-lipped, to interview this person. - -He had got as far as a preliminary "Say!" when speech was wiped from -his lips as with a sponge, and he stood gaping and ashamed, for the -murderer of sleep and untimely knocker on front doors was Betty. - -Mr. Jarvis had not forgotten Betty. His meeting with her at the office -of _Peaceful Moments_ had marked an epoch in his life. Never -before had anyone quite like her crossed his path, and at that moment -romance had come to him. His was essentially a respectful admiration. -He was content--indeed, he preferred to worship from afar. Of his own -initiative he would never have met her again. In her presence, with -those gray eyes of hers looking at him, tremors ran down his spine, and -his conscience, usually a battered and downtrodden wreck, became -fiercely aggressive. She filled him with novel emotions, and whether -these were pleasant or painful was more than he could say. He had not -the gift of analysis where his feelings were concerned. To himself he -put it, broadly, that she made him feel like a nickel with a hole in -it. But that was not entirely satisfactory. There were other and -pleasanter emotions mixed in with this humility. The thought of her -made him feel, for instance, vaguely chivalrous. He wanted to do risky -and useful things for her. Thus, if any fresh guy should endeavor to -get gay with her, it would, he felt, be a privilege to fix that same -guy. If she should be in bad, he would be more than ready to get busy -on her behalf. - -But he had never expected to meet her again, certainly not on his own -doorstep at ten in the morning. To Bat ten in the morning was included -with the small hours. - -Betty smiled at him, a little anxiously. She had no suspicion that she -played star to Mr. Jarvis' moth in the latter's life, and, as she eyed -him, standing there on the doorstep, her excuse for coming to him began -to seem terribly flimsy. Not being aware that he was in reality a tough -Bayard, keenly desirous of obeying her lightest word, she had staked -her all on the chance of his remembering the cat episode and being -grateful on account of it; and in the cold light of the morning this -idea, born in the watches of the night, when things tend to lose their -proportion, struck her as less happy than she had fancied. Suppose he -had forgotten all about it! Suppose he should be violent! For a moment -her heart sank. He certainly was not a pleasing and encouraging sight, -as he stood there blinking at her. No man looks his best immediately on -rising from bed, and Bat, even at his best, was not a hero of romance. -His forelock drooped dankly over his brow; there was stubble on his -chin; his eyes were red, like a dog's. He did not look like the Fairy -Prince who was to save her in her trouble. - -"I--I hope you remember me, Mr. Jarvis," she faltered. "Your cat. I--" - -He nodded speechlessly. Hideous things happened to his face. He was -really trying to smile pleasantly, but it seemed a scowl to Betty, and -her voice died away. - -Mr. Jarvis spoke. - -"Ma'am--sure!--step 'nside." - -Betty followed him into the shop. There were birds in cages on the -walls, and, patroling the floor, a great company of cats, each with its -leather collar. One rubbed itself against Betty's skirt. She picked it -up, and began to stroke it. And, looking over its head at Mr. Jarvis, -she was aware that he was beaming sheepishly. - -His eyes darted away the instant they met hers, but Betty had seen -enough to show her that she had mistaken nervousness for truculence. -Immediately, she was at her ease, and womanlike, had begun to control -the situation. She made conversation pleasantly, praising the cats, -admiring the birds, touching lightly on the general subject of domestic -pets, until her woman's sixth sense told her that her host's panic had -passed, and that she might now proceed to discuss business. - -"I hope you don't mind my coming to you, Mr. Jarvis," she said. "You -know you told me to if ever I were in trouble, so I've taken you at -your word. You don't mind?" - -Mr. Jarvis gulped, and searched for words. - -"Glad," he said at last. - -"I've left _Peaceful Moments_. You know I used to be stenographer -there." - -She was surprised and gratified to see a look of consternation spread -itself across Mr. Jarvis' face. It was a hopeful sign that he should -take her cause to heart to such an extent. - -But Mr. Jarvis' consternation was not due wholly to solicitude for her. -His thoughts at that moment, put, after having been expurgated, into -speech, might have been summed up in the line: "Of all sad words of -tongue or pen the saddest are these, 'It might have been'!" - -"Ain't youse woikin' dere no more? Is dat right?" he gasped. "Gee! I -wisht I'd 'a' known it sooner. Why, a guy come to me and wants to give -me half a ton of the long green to go to dat poiper what youse was -woikin' on and fix de guy what's runnin' it. An' I truns him down 'cos -I don't want you to be frown out of your job. Say, why youse quit -woikin' dere?" His eyes narrowed as an idea struck him. "Say," he went -on, "you ain't bin fired? Has de boss give youse de trun-down? 'Cos if -he has, say de woid and I'll fix him for youse, loidy. An' it won't set -you back a nickel," he concluded handsomely. - -"No, no," cried Betty, horrified. "Mr. Smith has been very kind to me. -I left of my own free will." - -Mr. Jarvis looked disappointed. His demeanor was like that of some -mediaeval knight called back on the eve of starting out to battle with -the Paynim for the honor of his lady. - -"What was that you said about the man who came to you and offered you -money?" asked Betty. - -Her mind had flashed back to Mr. Parker's visit, and her heart was -beating quickly. - -"Sure! He come to me all right an' wants de guy on de poiper fixed. An' -I truns him down." - -"Oh! You won't dream of doing anything to hurt Mr. Smith, will you, Mr. -Jarvis?" said Betty anxiously. - -"Not if you say so, loidy." - -"And your--friends? You won't let them do anything?" - -"Nope." - -Betty breathed freely again. Her knowledge of the East Side was small, -and that there might be those there who acted independently of Mr. -Jarvis, disdainful of his influence, did not occur to her. She returned -to her own affairs, satisfied that danger no longer threatened. - -"Mr. Jarvis, I wonder if you can help me. I want to find some work to -do," she said. - -"Woik?" - -"I have to earn my living, you see, and I'm afraid I don't know how to -begin." - -Mr. Jarvis pondered. "What sort of woik?" - -"Any sort," said Betty -valiantly. "I don't care what it is." - -Mr. Jarvis knitted his brows in thought. He was not used to being an -employment agency. But Betty was Betty, and even at the cost of a -headache he must think of something. - -At the end of five minutes inspiration came to him. - -"Say," he said, "what do youse call de guy dat sits an' takes de money -at an eatin'-joint? Cashier? Well, say, could youse be dat?" - -"It would be just the thing. Do you know a place?" - -"Sure. Just around de corner. I'll take you dere." - -Betty waited while he put on his coat, and they started out. Betty -chatted as they walked, but Mr. Jarvis, who appeared a little -self-conscious beneath the unconcealed interest of the neighbors, was -silent. At intervals he would turn and glare ferociously at the heads -that popped out of windows or protruded from doorways. Fame has its -penalties, and most of the population of that portion of the Bowery had -turned out to see their most prominent citizen so romantically employed -as a squire of dames. - -After a short walk Bat halted the expedition before a dingy restaurant. -The glass window bore in battered letters the name, Fontelli. - -"Dis is de joint," he said. - -Inside the restaurant a dreamy-eyed Italian sat gazing at vacancy and -twirling a pointed mustache. In a far corner a solitary customer was -finishing a late breakfast. - -Signor Fontelli, for the sad-eyed exile was he, sprang to his feet at -the sight of Mr. Jarvis' well-known figure. An ingratiating, but -nervous, smile came into view behind the pointed mustache. - -"Hey, Tony," said Mr. Jarvis, coming at once to the point, "I want you -to know dis loidy. She's going to be cashier at dis joint." - -Signor Fontelli looked at Betty and shook his head. He smiled -deprecatingly. His manner seemed to indicate that, while she met with -the approval of Fontelli, the slave of her sex, to Fontelli, the -employer, she appealed in vain. He gave his mustache a sorrowful twirl. - -"Ah, no," he sighed. "Not da cashier do I need. I take-a myself da -money." - -Mr. Jarvis looked at him coldly. He continued to look at him coldly. -His lower jaw began slowly to protrude, and his forehead retreated -further behind its zareba of forelock. - -There was a pause. The signor was plainly embarrassed. - -"Dis loidy," repeated Mr. Jarvis, "is cashier at dis joint at six -per--" He paused. "Does dat go?" he added smoothly. - -Certainly there was magnetism about Mr. Jarvis. With a minimum of words -he produced remarkable results. Something seemed to happen suddenly to -Signor Fontelli's spine. He wilted like a tired flower. A gesture, in -which were blended resignation, humility, and a desire to be at peace -with all men, particularly Mr. Jarvis, completed his capitulation. - -Mr. Jarvis waited while Betty was instructed in her simple duties, then -drew her aside. - -"Say," he remarked confidentially, "youse'll be all right here. Six per -ain't all de dough dere is in de woild, but, bein' cashier, see, you -can swipe a whole heap more whenever you feel like it. And if Tony -registers a kick, I'll come around and talk to him--see? Dat's right. -Good-morning, loidy." - -And, having delivered these admirable hints to young cashiers in a -hurry to get rich, Mr. Jarvis ducked his head in a species of bow, -declined to be thanked, and shuffled out into the street, leaving Betty -to open her new career by taking thirty-seven cents from the late -breakfaster. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -CHANGES IN THE STAFF - - -Three days had elapsed since the battle which had opened the campaign, -and there had been no further movement on the part of the enemy. Smith -was puzzled. A strange quiet seemed to be brooding over the other camp. -He could not believe that a single defeat had crushed the foe, but it -was hard to think of any other explanation. - -It was Pugsy Maloney who, on the fourth morning, brought to the office -the inner history of the truce. His version was brief and unadorned, as -was the way with his narratives. Such things as first causes and -piquant details he avoided, as tending to prolong the telling -excessively, thus keeping him from the perusal of his cowboy stories. -He gave the thing out merely as an item of general interest, a bubble -on the surface of the life of a great city. He did not know how nearly -interested were his employers in any matter touching that gang which is -known as the Three Points. - -Pugsy said: "Dere's been fuss'n going on down where I live. Dude -Dawson's mad at Spider Reilly, and now de Table Hills is layin' for de -T'ree Points, to soak it to 'em. Dat's right." - -He then retired to his outer fastness, yielding further details jerkily -and with the distrait air of one whose mind is elsewhere. - -Skilfully extracted and pieced together, these details formed -themselves into the following typical narrative of East Side life. - -There were four really important gangs in New York at this time. There -were other less important institutions besides, but these were little -more than mere friendly gatherings of old boyhood chums for purposes of -mutual companionship. They might grow into formidable organizations in -time, but for the moment the amount of ice which good judges declared -them to cut was but small. They would "stick up" an occasional wayfarer -for his "cush," and they carried "canisters" and sometimes fired them -off, but these things do not signify the cutting of ice. In matters -political there were only four gangs which counted, the East Side, the -Groome Street, the Three Points and the Table Hill. Greatest of these, -by virtue of their numbers, were the East Side and the Groome Street, -the latter presided over at the time of this story by Mr. Bat Jarvis. -These two were colossal, and, though they might fight each other, were -immune from attack at the hands of the rest. - -But between the other gangs, and especially between the Table Hill and -the Three Points, which were much of a size, warfare raged as -frequently as among the Republics of South America. There had always -been bad blood between the Table Hill and the Three Points. Little -events, trifling in themselves, had always occurred to shatter friendly -relations just when there seemed a chance of their being formed. Thus, -just as the Table Hillites were beginning to forgive the Three Points -for shooting the redoubtable Paul Horgan down at Coney Island, a Three -Pointer injudiciously wiped out a Table Hillite near Canal Street. He -pleaded self-defense, and in any case it was probably mere -thoughtlessness, but nevertheless the Table Hillites were ruffled. - -That had been a month or so back. During that month things had been -simmering down, and peace was just preparing to brood when there -occurred the incident alluded to by Pugsy, the regrettable falling out -between Dude Dawson and Spider Reilly. - -To be as brief as possible, Dude Dawson had gone to spend a happy -evening at a dancing saloon named Shamrock Hall, near Groome Street. -Now, Shamrock Hall belonged to a Mr. Maginnis, a friend of Bat Jarvis, -and was under the direct protection of that celebrity. It was, -therefore, sacred ground, and Mr. Dawson visited it in a purely private -and peaceful capacity. The last thing he intended was to spoil the -harmony of the evening. - -Alas for the best intentions! Two-stepping clumsily round the room--for -he was a poor, though enthusiastic, dancer--Dude Dawson collided with -and upset a certain Reddy Davis and his partner. Reddy Davis was a -member of the Three Points, and his temper was the temper of a -red-headed man. He "slugged" Mr. Dawson. Mr. Dawson, more skilful at -the fray than at the dance, joined battle willingly, and they were -absorbed in a stirring combat, when an interruption occurred. In the -far corner of the room, surrounded by admiring friends, sat Spider -Reilly, monarch of the Three Points. He had noticed that there was a -slight disturbance at the other side of the hall, but had given it -little attention till the dancing ceasing suddenly and the floor -emptying itself of its crowd, he had a plain view of Mr. Dawson and Mr. -Davis squaring up at each other for the second round. - -We must assume that Mr. Reilly was not thinking of what he did, for his -action was contrary to all rules of gang etiquette. In the street it -would have been perfectly legitimate, even praiseworthy, but in a -dance-hall under the protection of a neutral power it was unpardonable. - -What he did was to produce his revolver, and shoot the unsuspecting Mr. -Dawson in the leg. Having done which, he left hurriedly, fearing the -wrath of Bat Jarvis. - -Mr. Dawson, meanwhile, was attended to and helped home. Willing -informants gave him the name of his aggressor, and before morning the -Table Hill camp was in a ferment. Shooting broke out in three places, -though there were no casualties. - -When the day dawned there existed between the two gangs a state of war -more bitter than any in their record, for this time it was chieftain -who had assaulted chieftain, Royal blood had been spilt. - -Such was the explanation of the lull in the campaign against -_Peaceful Moments_. The new war had taken the mind of Spider -Reilly and his warriors off the paper and its affairs for the moment, -much as the unexpected appearance of a mad bull would make a man forget -that he had come out snipe-shooting. - -At present there had been no pitched battle. As was usual between the -gangs, war had broken out in a somewhat tentative fashion at first. -There had been skirmishes by the wayside, but nothing more. The two -armies were sparring for an opening. - - * * * * * - -Smith was distinctly relieved at the respite, for necessitating careful -thought. This was the defection of Kid Brady. - -The Kid's easy defeat of Cyclone Dick Fisher had naturally created a -sensation in sporting circles. He had become famous in a night. It was -not with surprise, therefore, that Smith received from his fighting -editor the information that he had been matched against one Eddie Wood, -whose fame outshone even that of the late Cyclone. - -The Kid, a white man to the core, exhibited quite a feudal loyalty to -the paper which had raised him from the ruck and placed him on the road -to eminence. - -"Say the word," he said, "and I'll call it off. If you feel you need me -around here, Mr. Smith, say so, and I'll side-step Eddie." - -"Comrade Brady," said Smith with enthusiasm, "I have had occasion -before to call you sport. I do so again. But I'm not going to stand in -your way. If you eliminate this Comrade Wood, they will have to give -you a chance against Jimmy Garvin, won't they?" - -"I guess that's right," said the Kid. "Eddie stayed nineteen rounds -against Jimmy, and, if I can put him away, it gets me clear into line -with Jim, and he'll have to meet me." - -"Then go in and win, Comrade Brady. We shall miss you. It will be as if -a ray of sunshine had been removed from the office. But you mustn't -throw a chance away." - -"I'll train at White Plains," said the Kid, "so I'll be pretty near in -case I'm wanted." - -"Oh, we shall be all right," said Smith, "and if you win, we'll bring -out a special number. Good luck, Comrade Brady, and many thanks for -your help." - - * * * * * - -John, when he arrived at the office and learned the news, was for -relying on their own unaided efforts. - -"And, anyway," he said, "I don't see who else there is to help us. You -could tell the police, I suppose," he went on doubtfully. - -Smith shook his head. - -"The New York policeman, Comrade John, is, like all great men, somewhat -peculiar. If you go to a New York policeman and exhibit a black eye, he -is more likely to express admiration for the handiwork of the citizen -responsible for the same than sympathy. No; since coming to this city I -have developed a habit of taking care of myself, or employing private -help. I do not want allies who will merely shake their heads at Comrade -Reilly and his merry men, however sternly. I want someone who, if -necessary, will soak it to them good." - -"Sure," said John. "But who is there now the Kid's gone?" - -"Who else but Comrade Jarvis?" said Smith. - -"Jarvis? Bat Jarvis?" - -"The same. I fancy that we shall find, on enquiry, that we are ace -high with him. At any rate, there is no harm in sounding him. It is -true that he may have forgotten, or it may be that it is to Comrade -Brown alone that he is--" - -"Who's Brown?" asked John. - -"Our late stenographer," explained Smith. "A Miss Brown. She -entertained Comrade Jarvis' cat, if you remember. I wonder what has -become of her. She has sent in three more corking efforts on the -subject of Broster Street, but she gives no address. I wish I knew -where she was. I'd have liked for you to meet her." - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -A GATHERING OF CAT SPECIALISTS - - -"It will probably be necessary," said Smith, as they set out for -Groome Street, "to allude to you, Comrade John, in the course of this -interview, as one of our most eminent living cat-fanciers. You have -never met Comrade Jarvis, I believe? Well, he is a gentleman with just -about enough forehead to prevent his front hair getting inextricably -blended with his eyebrows, and he owns twenty-three cats, each with a -leather collar round its neck. It is, I fancy, the cat note which we -shall have to strike to-day. If only Comrade Brown were with us, we -could appeal to his finer feelings. But he has seen me only once and -you never, and I should not care to bet that he will feel the least -particle of dismay at the idea of our occiputs getting all mussed up -with a black-jack. But when I inform him that you are an English -cat-fancier, and that in your island home you have seventy-four fine -cats, mostly Angoras, that will be a different matter. I shall be -surprised if he does not fall on your neck." - -They found Mr. Jarvis in his fancier's shop, engaged in the -intellectual occupation of greasing a cat's paws with butter. He looked -up as they entered, and then resumed his task. - -"Comrade Jarvis," said Smith, "we meet again. You remember me?" - -"Nope," said Mr. Jarvis promptly. - -Smith was not discouraged. - -"Ah!" he said tolerantly, "the fierce rush of New York life! How it -wipes from the retina to-day the image impressed on it but yesterday. -Is it not so, Comrade Jarvis?" - -The cat-expert concentrated himself on his patient's paws without -replying. - -"A fine animal," said Smith, adjusting his monocle. "To what -particular family of the _Felis Domestica_ does that belong? In -color it resembles a Neapolitan ice more than anything." - -Mr. Jarvis' manner became unfriendly. - -"Say, what do youse want? That's straight, ain't it? If youse want to -buy a boid or a snake, why don't youse say so?" - -"I stand corrected," said Smith; "I should have remembered that time -is money. I called in here partly in the hope that, though you only met -me once--on the stairs of my office, you might retain pleasant -recollections of me, but principally in order that I might make two -very eminent cat-fanciers acquainted. This," he said, with a wave of -his hand in the direction of John, "is Comrade Maude, possibly the -best known of English cat-fanciers. Comrade Maude's stud of Angoras is -celebrated wherever the English language is spoken." - -Mr. Jarvis's expression changed. He rose, and, having inspected John -with silent admiration for a while, extended a well-buttered hand -towards him. Smith looked on benevolently. - -"What Comrade Maude does not know about cats," he said, "is not -knowledge. His information on Angoras alone would fill a volume." - -"Say"--Mr. Jarvis was evidently touching on a point which had weighed -deeply upon him--"why's catnip called catnip?" - -John looked at Smith helplessly. It sounded like a riddle, but it was -obvious that Mr. Jarvis's motive in putting the question was not -frivolous. He really wished to know. - -"The word, as Comrade Maude was just about to observe," said Smith, "is -a corruption of catmint. Why it should be so corrupted I do not know. -But what of that? The subject is too deep to be gone fully into at the -moment. I should recommend you to read Mr. Maude's little brochure on -the matter. Passing lightly on from that--" - -"Did youse ever have a cat dat ate bettles?" enquired Mr. Jarvis. - -"There was a time when many of Comrade Maude's _Felidae_ supported -life almost entirely on beetles." - -"Did they git thin?" - -John felt it was time, if he were to preserve his reputation, to assert -himself. - -"No," he replied firmly. - -Mr. Jarvis looked astonished. - -"English beetles," said Smith, "don't make cats thin. Passing -lightly--" - -"I had a cat oncst," said Mr. Jarvis, ignoring the remark and sticking -to his point, "dat ate beetles and got thin and used to tie itself -inter knots." - -"A versatile animal," agreed Smith. - -"Say," Mr. Jarvis went on, now plainly on a subject near to his heart, -"dem beetles is fierce. Sure! Can't keep de cats off of eatin' dem, I -can't. First t'ing you know dey've swallowed dem, and den dey gits thin -and ties theirselves into knots." - -"You should put them into strait-waistcoats," said Smith. "Passing, -however, lightly--" - -"Say, ever have a cross-eyed cat?" - -"Comrade Maude's cats," said Smith, "have happily been almost entirely -free from strabismus." - -"Dey's lucky, cross-eyed cats is. You has a cross-eyed cat, and not'in' -don't never go wrong. But, say, was dere ever a cat wit' one blue and -one yaller one in your bunch? Gee! it's fierce when it's like dat. It's -a skidoo, is a cat wit' one blue eye and one yaller one. Puts you in -bad, surest t'ing you know. Oncst a guy give me a cat like dat, and -first t'ing you know I'm in bad all round. It wasn't till I give him -away to de cop on de corner and gets me one dat's cross-eyed dat I -lifts de skidoo off of me." - -"And what happened to the cop?" enquired Smith, interested. - -"Oh, he got in bad, sure enough," said Mr. Jarvis without emotion. "One -of de boys what he'd pinched and had sent up the road once lays for -him and puts one over on him wit a black-jack. Sure. Dat's what comes -of havin' a cat wit' one blue and one yaller one." - -Mr. Jarvis relapsed into silence. He seemed to be meditating on the -inscrutable workings of Fate. Smith took advantage of the pause to -leave the cat topic and touch on matters of more vital import. - -"Tense and exhilarating as is this discussion of the optical -peculiarities of cats," he said, "there is another matter on which, if -you will permit me, I should like to touch. I would hesitate to bore -you with my own private troubles, but this is a matter which concerns -Comrade Maude as well as myself, and I can see that your regard for -Comrade Maude is almost an obsession." - -"How's that?" - -"I can see," said Smith, "that Comrade Maude is a man to whom you give -the glad hand." - -Mr. Jarvis regarded John with respectful affection. - -"Sure! He's to the good, Mr. Maude is." - -"Exactly," said Smith. "To resume, then. The fact is, Comrade Jarvis, -we are much persecuted by scoundrels. How sad it is in this world! We -look to every side. We look to north, east, south, and west, and what -do we see? Mainly scoundrels. I fancy you have heard a little about our -troubles before this. In fact, I gather that the same scoundrels -actually approached you with a view to engaging your services to do us -up, but that you very handsomely refused the contract. We are the staff -of _Peaceful Moments_." - -"_Peaceful Moments_," said Mr. Jarvis. "Sure, dat's right. A guy -comes to me and says he wants you put through it, but I gives him de -trundown." - -"So I was informed," said Smith. "Well, failing you, they went to a -gentleman of the name of Reilly--" - -"Spider Reilly?" - -"Exactly. Spider Reilly, the lessee and manager of the Three Points -gang." - -Mr. Jarvis frowned. - -"Dose T'ree Points, dey're to de bad. Dey're fresh." - -"It is too true, Comrade Jarvis." - -"Say," went on Mr. Jarvis, waxing wrathful at the recollection, "what -do youse t'ink dem fresh stiffs done de odder night? Started some rough -woik in me own dance-joint." - -"Shamrock Hall?" said Smith. "I heard about it." - -"Dat's right, Shamrock Hall. Got gay, dey did, wit' some of the Table -Hillers. Say, I got it in for dem gazebos, sure I have. Surest t'ing -you know." - -Smith beamed approval. - -"That," he said, "is the right spirit. Nothing could be more admirable. -We are bound together by our common desire to check the ever-growing -spirit of freshness among the members of the Three Points. Add to that -the fact that we are united by a sympathetic knowledge of the manners -and customs of cats, and especially that Comrade Maude, England's -greatest fancier, is our mutual friend, and what more do we want? -Nothing." - -"Mr. Maude's to de good," assented Mr. Jarvis, eying John once more in -friendly fashion. - -"We are all to the good," said Smith. "Now, the thing I wished to ask -you is this. The office of the paper was, until this morning, securely -guarded by Comrade Brady, whose name will be familiar to you." - -"De Kid?" - -"On the bull's-eye, as usual. Kid Brady, the coming light-weight -champion of the world. Well, he has unfortunately been compelled to -leave us, and the way into the office is consequently clear to any -sand-bag specialist who cares to wander in. So what I came to ask was, -will you take Comrade Brady's place for a few days?" - -"How's that?" - -"Will you come in and sit in the office for the next day or so and help -hold the fort? I may mention that there is money attached to the job. -We will pay for your services." - -Mr. Jarvis reflected but a brief moment. - -"Why, sure," he said. "Me fer dat." - -"Excellent, Comrade Jarvis. Nothing could be better. We will see you -to-morrow, then. I rather fancy that the gay band of Three Pointers who -will undoubtedly visit the offices of _Peaceful Moments_ in the -next few days is scheduled to run up against the surprise of their -lives." - -"Sure t'ing. I'll bring me canister." - -"Do," said Smith. "In certain circumstances one canister is worth a -flood of rhetoric. Till to-morrow, then, Comrade Jarvis. I am very much -obliged to you." - - * * * * * - -"Not at all a bad hour's work," he said complacently, as they turned -out of Groome Street. "A vote of thanks to you, John, for your -invaluable assistance." - -"I didn't do much," said John, with a grin. - -"Apparently, no. In reality, yes. Your manner was exactly right. -Reserved, yet not haughty. Just what an eminent cat-fancier's manner -should be. I could see that you made a pronounced hit with Comrade -Jarvis. By the way, as he is going to show up at the office to-morrow, -perhaps it would be as well if you were to look up a few facts bearing -on the feline world. There is no knowing what thirst for information a -night's rest may not give Comrade Jarvis. I do not presume to dictate, -but if you were to make yourself a thorough master of the subject of -catnip, for instance, it might quite possibly come in useful." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE RETIREMENT OF SMITH - - -The first member of the staff of _Peaceful Moments_ to arrive at -the office on the following morning was Master Maloney. This sounds -like the beginning of a "Plod and Punctuality," or "How Great Fortunes -have been Made" story, but, as a matter of fact, Master Maloney, like -Mr. Bat Jarvis, was no early bird. Larks who rose in his neighborhood, -rose alone. He did not get up with them. He was supposed to be at the -office at nine o'clock. It was a point of honor with him, a sort of -daily declaration of independence, never to put in an appearance before -nine-thirty. On this particular morning he was punctual to the minute, -or half an hour late, whichever way you choose to look at it. - -He had only whistled a few bars of "My Little Irish Rose," and had -barely got into the first page of his story of life on the prairie, -when Kid Brady appeared. The Kid had come to pay a farewell visit. He -had not yet begun training, and he was making the best of the short -time before such comforts should be forbidden by smoking a big black -cigar. Master Maloney eyed him admiringly. The Kid, unknown to that -gentleman himself, was Pugsy's ideal. He came from the Plains, and had, -indeed, once actually been a cowboy; he was a coming champion; and he -could smoke big black cigars. There was no trace of his official -well-what-is-it-now? air about Pugsy as he laid down his book and -prepared to converse. - -"Say, Mr. Smith around anywhere, Pugsy?" asked the Kid. - -"Naw, Mr. Brady. He ain't came yet," replied Master Maloney -respectfully. - -"Late, ain't he?" - -"Sure! He generally blows in before I do." - -"Wonder what's keepin' him?" - -As he spoke, John appeared. "Hello, Kid," he said. "Come to say -good-by?" - -"Yep," said the Kid. "Seen Mr. Smith around anywhere, Mr. Maude?" - -"Hasn't he come yet? I guess he'll be here soon. Hello, who's this?" - -A small boy was standing at the door, holding a note. - -"Mr. Maude?" he said. "Cop at Jefferson Market give me dis fer you." - -"What!" He took the letter, and gave the boy a dime. "Why, it's from -Smith. Great Scott!" - -It was apparent that the Kid was politely endeavoring to veil his -curiosity. Master Maloney had no such delicacy. - -"What's in de letter, boss?" he enquired. - -"The letter," said John slowly, "is from Mr. Smith. And it says that he -was sentenced this morning to thirty days on the Island for resisting -the police." - -"He's de guy!" admitted Master Maloney approvingly. - -"What's that?" said the Kid. "Mr. Smith been slugging cops! What's he -been doin' that for?" - -"I must go and find out at once. It beats me." - -It did not take John long to reach Jefferson Market, and by the -judicious expenditure of a few dollars he was enabled to obtain an -interview with Smith in a back room. - -The editor of _Peaceful Moments_ was seated on a bench, looking -remarkably disheveled. There was a bruise on his forehead, just where -the hair began. He was, however, cheerful. - -"Ah, John," he said. "You got my note all right, then?" John looked at -him, concerned. - -"What on earth does it all mean?" - -Smith heaved a regretful sigh. - -"I fear," he said, "I have made precisely the blamed fool of myself -that Comrade Parker hoped I would." - -"Parker!" - -Smith nodded. - -"I may be misjudging him, but I seem to see the hand of Comrade Parker -in this. We had a raid at my house last night, John. We were pulled." - -"What on earth--?" - -"Somebody--if it was not Comrade Parker it was some other citizen -dripping with public spirit--tipped the police off that certain sports -were running a pool-room in the house where I live." - -On his departure from the _News_, Smith, from motives of economy, -had moved from his hotel in Washington Square and taken a furnished -room on Fourteenth Street. - -"There actually was a pool-room there," he went on, "so possibly I am -wronging Comrade Parker in thinking that this was a scheme of his for -getting me out of the way. At any rate, somebody gave the tip, and at -about three o'clock this morning I was aroused from a dreamless slumber -by quite a considerable hammering at my door. There, standing on the -mat, were two policemen. Very cordially the honest fellows invited me -to go with them. A conveyance, it seemed, waited in the street without. -I disclaimed all connection with the bad gambling persons below, but -they replied that they were cleaning up the house, and, if I wished to -make any remarks, I had better make them to the magistrate. This seemed -reasonable. I said I would put on some clothes and come along. They -demurred. They said they couldn't wait about while I put on clothes. I -pointed out that sky-blue pajamas with old-rose frogs were not the -costume in which the editor of a great New York weekly paper should be -seen abroad in one of the world's greatest cities, but they assured -me--more by their manner than their words--that my misgivings were -groundless, so I yielded. These men, I told myself, have lived longer -in New York than I. They know what is done, and what is not done. I -will bow to their views. So I was starting to go with them like a lamb, -when one of them gave me a shove in the ribs with his night stick. And -it was here that I fancy I may have committed a slight error of -policy." - -He smiled dreamily for a moment, then went on. - -"I admit that the old Berserk blood of the Smiths boiled at that -juncture. I picked up a sleep-producer from the floor, as Comrade Brady -would say, and handed it to the big-stick merchant. He went down like a -sack of coal over the bookcase, and at that moment I rather fancy the -other gentleman must have got busy with his club. At any rate, somebody -suddenly loosed off some fifty thousand dollars' worth of fireworks, -and the next thing I knew was that the curtain had risen for the next -act on me, discovered sitting in a prison cell, with an out-size in -lumps on my forehead." - -He sighed again. - -"What _Peaceful Moments_ really needs," he said, "is a -_sitz-redacteur_. A _sitz-redacteur_, John, is a gentleman -employed by German newspapers with a taste for _lese-majeste_ to -go to prison whenever required in place of the real editor. The real -editor hints in his bright and snappy editorial, for instance, that the -Kaiser's mustache gives him bad dreams. The police force swoops down -in a body on the office of the journal, and are met by the -_sitz-redacteur_, who goes with them cheerfully, allowing the -editor to remain and sketch out plans for his next week's article -on the Crown Prince. We need a _sitz-redacteur_ on _Peaceful -Moments_ almost as much as a fighting editor. Not now, of course. -This has finished the thing. You'll have to close down the paper now." - -"Close it down!" cried John. "You bet I won't." - -"My dear old son," said Smith seriously, "what earthly reason have you -for going on with it? You only came in to help me, and I am no more. I -am gone like some beautiful flower that withers in the night. Where's -the sense of getting yourself beaten up then? Quit!" - -John shook his head. - -"I wouldn't quit now if you paid me." - -"But--" - -A policeman appeared at the door. - -"Say, pal," he remarked to John, "you'll have to be fading away soon, I -guess. Give you three minutes more. Say it quick." - -He retired. Smith looked at John. - -"You won't quit?" he said. - -"No." - -Smith smiled. - -"You're an all-wool sport, John," he said. "I don't suppose you know -how to spell quit. Well, then, if you are determined to stand by the -ship like Comrade Casabianca, I'll tell you an idea that came to me in -the watches of the night. If ever you want to get ideas, John, you -spend a night in one of these cells. They flock to you. I suppose I did -more profound thinking last night than I've ever done in my life. Well, -here's the idea. Act on it or not, as you please. I was thinking over -the whole business from soup to nuts, and it struck me that the -queerest part of it all is that whoever owns these Broster Street -tenements should care a Canadian dime whether we find out who he is or -not." - -"Well, there's the publicity," began John. - -"Tush!" said Smith. "And possibly bah! Do you suppose that the sort of -man who runs Broster Street is likely to care a darn about publicity? -What does it matter to him if the papers soak it to him for about two -days? He knows they'll drop him and go on to something else on the -third, and he knows he's broken no law. No, there's something more in -this business than that. Don't think that this bright boy wants to hush -us up simply because he is a sensitive plant who can't bear to think -that people should be cross with him. He has got some private reason -for wanting to lie low." - -"Well, but what difference--?" - -"Comrade, I'll tell you. It makes this difference: that the rents are -almost certainly collected by some confidential person belonging to his -own crowd, not by an ordinary collector. In other words, the collector -knows the name of the man he's collecting for. But for this little -misfortune of mine, I was going to suggest that we waylay that -collector, administer the Third Degree, and ask him who his boss is." - -John uttered an exclamation. - -"You're right! I'll do it." - -"You think you can? Alone?" - -"Sure! Don't you worry. I'll--" - -The door opened and the policeman reappeared. - -"Time's up. Slide, sonny." - -John said good-by to Smith, and went out. He had a last glimpse of his -late editor, a sad smile on his face, telling the policeman what was -apparently a humorous story. Complete good will seemed to exist between -them. John consoled himself as he went away with the reflection that -Smith's was a temperament that would probably find a bright side even -to a thirty-days' visit to Blackwell's Island. - -He walked thoughtfully back to the office. There was something lonely, -and yet wonderfully exhilarating, in the realization that he was now -alone and in sole charge of the campaign. It braced him. For the first -time in several weeks he felt positively light-hearted. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE CAMPAIGN QUICKENS - - -Mr. Jarvis was as good as his word. Early in the afternoon he made his -appearance at the office of _Peaceful Moments_, his forelock more -than usually well oiled in honor of the occasion, and his right -coat-pocket bulging in a manner that betrayed to the initiated eye the -presence of his trusty "canister." With him, in addition, he brought a -long, thin young man who wore under his brown tweed coat a blue-and-red -striped sweater. Whether he brought him as an ally in case of need or -merely as a kindred soul with whom he might commune during his vigil, -did not appear. - -Pugsy, startled out of his wonted calm by the arrival of this -distinguished company, gazed after the pair, as they passed into the -inner office, with protruding eyes. - -John greeted the allies warmly, and explained Smith's absence. Mr. -Jarvis listened to the story with interest, and introduced his -colleague. - -"T'ought I'd let him chase along. Long Otto's his monaker." - -"Sure!" said John. "The more the merrier. Take a seat. You'll find -cigars over there. You won't mind my not talking for the moment? -There's a wad of work to clear up." - -This was an overstatement. He was comparatively free of work, press day -having only just gone by; but he was keenly anxious to avoid -conversation on the subject of cats, of his ignorance of which Mr. -Jarvis's appearance had suddenly reminded him. He took up an old proof -sheet and began to glance through it, frowning thoughtfully. - -Mr. Jarvis regarded the paraphernalia of literature on the table with -interest. So did Long Otto, who, however, being a man of silent habit, -made no comment. Throughout the seance and the events which followed it -he confined himself to an occasional grunt. He seemed to lack other -modes of expression. - -"Is dis where youse writes up pieces fer de poiper?" enquired Mr. -Jarvis. - -"This is the spot," said John. "On busy mornings you could hear our -brains buzzing in Madison Square Garden. Oh, one moment." - -He rose and went into the outer office. - -"Pugsy," he said, "do you know Broster Street?" - -"Sure." - -"Could you find out for me exactly when the man comes round collecting -the rents?" - -"Surest t'ing you know. I knows a kid what knows anodder kid what lives -dere." - -"Then go and do it now. And, after you've found out, you can take the -rest of the day off." - -"Me fer dat," said Master Maloney with enthusiasm. "I'll take me goil -to de Bronx Zoo." - -"Your girl? I didn't know you'd got a girl, Pugsy. I always imagined -you as one of those strong, stern, blood-and-iron men who despised -girls. Who is she?" - -"Aw, she's a kid," said Pugsy. "Her pa runs a delicatessen shop down -our street. She ain't a bad mutt," added the ardent swain. "I'm her -steady." - -"Well, mind you send me a card for the wedding. And if two dollars -would be a help--" - -"Sure t'ing. T'anks, boss. You're all right." - -It had occurred to John that the less time Pugsy spent in the outer -office during the next few days, the better. The lull in the warfare -could not last much longer, and at any moment a visit from Spider -Reilly and his adherents might be expected. Their probable first move -in such an event would be to knock Master Maloney on the head to -prevent his giving warning of their approach. - -Events proved that he had not been mistaken. He had not been back in -the inner office for more than a quarter of an hour when there came -from without the sound of stealthy movements. The handle of the door -began--to revolve slowly and quietly. The next moment three figures -tumbled into the room. - -It was evident that they had not expected to find the door unlocked, -and the absence of resistance when they applied their weight had -surprising effects. Two of the three did not pause in their career till -they cannoned against the table. The third checked himself by holding -the handle. - -John got up coolly. - -"Come right in," he said. "What can we do for you?" It had been too -dark on the other occasion of his meeting with the Three Pointers to -take note of their faces, though he fancied that he had seen the man -holding the door-handle before. The others were strangers. They were -all exceedingly unprepossessing in appearance. - -There was a pause. The three marauders had become aware of the presence -of Mr. Jarvis and his colleague, and the meeting was causing them -embarrassment, which may have been due in part to the fact that both -had produced and were toying meditatively with ugly-looking pistols. - -Mr. Jarvis spoke. - -"Well," he said, "what's doin'?" - -The man to whom the question was directly addressed appeared to have -some difficulty in finding a reply. He shuffled his feet, and looked at -the floor. His two companions seemed equally at a loss. - -"Goin' to start anything?" enquired Mr. Jarvis, casually. - -The humor of the situation suddenly tickled John. The embarrassment of -the uninvited guests was ludicrous. - -"You've just dropped in for a quiet chat, is that it?" he said. "Well, -we're all delighted to see you. The cigars are on the table. Draw up -your chairs." - -Mr. Jarvis opposed the motion. He drew slow circles in the air with his -revolver. - -"Say! Youse had best beat it. See?" - -Long Otto grunted sympathy with the advice. - -"And youse had best go back to Spider Reilly," continued Mr. Jarvis, -"and tell him there ain't nothin' doing in the way of rough-house wit' -dis gent here. And you can tell de Spider," went on Bat with growing -ferocity, "dat next time he gits fresh and starts in to shootin' up my -dance-joint, I'll bite de head off'n him. See? Dat goes. If he t'inks -his little two-by-four crowd can git way wit' de Groome Street, he's -got anodder guess comin'. An' don't fergit dis gent here and me is -friends, and anyone dat starts anyt'ing wit' dis gent is going to find -trouble. Does dat go? Beat it." - -He jerked his shoulder in the direction of the door. - -The delegation then withdrew. - -"Thanks," said John. "I'm much obliged to you both. You're certainly -there with the goods as fighting editors. I don't know what I should -have done without you." - -"Aw, Chee!" said Mr. Jarvis, handsomely dismissing the matter. Long -Otto kicked the leg of a table, and grunted. - -Pugsy Maloney's report on the following morning was entirely -satisfactory. Rents were collected in Broster Street on Thursdays. -Nothing could have been more convenient, for that very day happened to -be Thursday. - -"I rubbered around," said Pugsy, "an' done de sleut' act, an' it's this -way. Dere's a feller blows in every T'ursday 'bout six o'clock, an' den -it's up to de folks to dig down inter deir jeans for de stuff, or out -dey goes before supper. I got dat from my kid frien' what knows a kid -what lives dere. An' say, he has it pretty fierce, dat kid. De kid what -lives dere. He's a wop kid, an Italian, an' he's in bad 'cos his pa -comes over from Italy to woik on de subway." - -"I don't see why that puts him in bad," said John wonderingly. "You -don't construct your stories well, Pugsy. You start at the end, then go -back to any part which happens to appeal to you at the moment, and -eventually wind up at the beginning. Why is this kid in bad because his -father has come to work on the subway?" - -"Why, sure, because his pa got fired an' swatted de foreman one on de -coco, an' dey gives him t'oity days. So de kid's all alone, an' no one -to pay de rent." - -"I see," said John. "Well, come along with me and introduce me, and -I'll look after that." - -At half-past five John closed the office for the day, and, armed with a -big stick and conducted by Master Maloney, made his way to Broster -Street. To reach it, it was necessary to pass through a section of the -enemy's country, but the perilous passage was safely negotiated. The -expedition reached its unsavory goal intact. - -The wop kid inhabited a small room at the very top of a building -half-way down the street. He was out when John and Pugsy arrived. - -It was not an abode of luxury, the tenement; they had to feel their way -up the stairs in almost pitch darkness. Most of the doors were shut, -but one on the second floor was ajar. Through the opening John had a -glimpse of a number of women sitting on up-turned boxes. The floor was -covered with little heaps of linen. All the women were sewing. -Stumbling in the darkness, John almost fell against the door. None of -the women looked up at the noise. In Broster Street time was evidently -money. - -On the top floor Pugsy halted before the open door of an empty room. -The architect in this case had apparently given rein to a passion for -originality, for he had constructed the apartment without a window of -any sort whatsoever. The entire stock of air used by the occupants came -through a small opening over the door. - -It was a warm day, and John recoiled hastily. - -"Is this the kid's room?" he said. "I guess the corridor's good enough -for me to wait in. What the owner of this place wants," he went on -reflectively, "is scalping. Well, we'll do it in the paper if we can't -in any other way. Is this your kid?" - -A small boy had appeared. He seemed surprised to see visitors. Pugsy -undertook to do the honors. Pugsy, as interpreter, was energetic, but -not wholly successful. He appeared to have a fixed idea that the -Italian language was one easily mastered by the simple method of saying -"da" instead of "the," and adding a final "a" to any word that seemed -to him to need one. - -"Say, kid," he began, "has da rent-a-man come yet-a?" - -The black eyes of the wop kid clouded. He gesticulated, and said -something in his native language. - -"He hasn't got next," reported Master Maloney. "He can't git on to me -curves. Dese wop kids is all bone-heads. Say, kid, look-a here." He -walked to the door, rapped on it smartly, and, assuming a look of -extreme ferocity, stretched out his hand and thundered: "Unbelt-a! -Slip-a me da stuff!" - -The wop kid's puzzlement in the face of this address became pathetic. - -"This," said John, deeply interested, "is getting exciting. Don't give -in, Pugsy. I guess the trouble is that your too perfect Italian accent -is making the kid homesick." - -Master Maloney made a gesture of disgust. - -"I'm t'roo. Dese Dagoes makes me tired. Dey don't know enough to go -upstairs to take de elevated. Beat it, you mutt," he observed with -moody displeasure, accompanying the words with a gesture which conveyed -its own meaning. The wop kid, plainly glad to get away, slipped down -the stairs like a shadow. - -Pugsy shrugged his shoulders. - -"Boss," he said resignedly, "it's up to youse." - -John reflected. - -"It's all right," he said. "Of course, if the collector had been here, -the kid wouldn't be. All I've got to do is to wait." - -He peered over the banisters into the darkness below. - -"Not that it's not enough," he said; "for of all the poisonous places I -ever met this is the worst. I wish whoever built it had thought to put -in a few windows. His idea of ventilation was apparently to leave a -hole about the size of a lima bean and let the thing go at that." - -"I guess there's a door on to de roof somewhere," suggested Pugsy. "At -de joint where I lives dere is." - -His surmise proved correct. At the end of the passage a ladder, nailed -against the wall, ended in a large square opening, through which was -visible, if not "that narrow strip of blue which prisoners call the -sky," at any rate a tall brick chimney and a clothesline covered with -garments that waved lazily in the breeze. - -John stood beneath it, looking up. - -"Well," he said, "this isn't much, but it's better than nothing. I -suppose the architect of this place was one of those fellows who don't -begin to appreciate air till it's thick enough to scoop chunks out with -a spoon. It's an acquired taste, I guess, like Limburger cheese. And -now, Pugsy, old scout, you had better beat it. There may be a -rough-house here any minute now." - -Pugsy looked up, indignant. - -"Beat it?" - -"While your shoe-leather's good," said John firmly. "This is no place -for a minister's son. Take it from me." - -"I want to stop and pipe de fun," objected Master Maloney. - -"What fun?" - -"I guess you ain't here to play ball," surmised Pugsy shrewdly, eying -the big stick. - -"Never mind why I'm here," said John. "Beat it. I'll tell you all about -it to-morrow." - -Master Maloney prepared reluctantly to depart. As he did so there was a -sound of well-shod feet on the stairs, and a man in a snuff-colored -suit, wearing a brown Homburg hat and carrying a small notebook in one -hand, walked briskly up the stairs. His whole appearance proclaimed him -to be the long-expected collector of rents. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -CORNERED - - -He did not see John for a moment, and had reached the door of the room -when he became aware of a presence. He turned in surprise. He was a -smallish, pale-faced man with protruding eyes and teeth which gave him -a certain resemblance to a rabbit. - -"Hello!" he said. - -"Welcome to our city," said John, stepping unostentatiously between him -and the stairs. - -Master Maloney, who had taken advantage of the interruption to edge -back into the center of things, now appeared to consider the question -of his departure permanently shelved. He sidled to a corner of the -landing, and sat down on an empty soap box with the air of a dramatic -critic at the opening night of a new play. The scene looked good to -him. It promised interesting developments. He was an earnest student of -the drama, as exhibited in the theaters of the East Side, and few had -ever applauded the hero of "Escaped from Sing Sing," or hissed the -villain of "Nellie, the Beautiful Cloak-model" with more fervor. He -liked his drama to have plenty of action, and to his practised eye this -one promised well. There was a set expression on John's face which -suggested great things. - -His pleasure was abruptly quenched. John, placing a firm hand on his -collar, led him to the top of the stairs and pushed him down. - -"Beat it," he said. - -The rent-collector watched these things with a puzzled eye. He now -turned to John. - -"Say, seen anything of the wops that live here?" he enquired. "My -name's Gooch. I've come to take the rent." - -John nodded. - -"I don't think there's much chance of your seeing them to-night," he -said. "The father, I hear, is in prison. You won't get any rent out of -him." - -"Then it's outside for theirs," said Mr. Gooch definitely. - -"What about the kid?" said John. "Where's he to go?" - -"That's up to him. Nothing to do with me. I'm only acting under orders -from up top." - -"Whose orders?" enquired John. - -"The gent who owns this joint." - -"Who is he?" - -Suspicion crept into the protruding eyes of the rent-collector. - -"Say!" he demanded. "Who are you anyway, and what do you think you're -doing here? That's what I'd like to know. What do you want with the -name of the owner of this place? What business is it of yours?" - -"I'm a newspaper man." - -"I guessed you were," said Mr. Gooch with triumph. "You can't bluff me. -Well, it's no good, sonny. I've nothing for you. You'd better chase off -and try something else." - -He became more friendly. - -"Say, though," he said, "I just guessed you were from some paper. I wish -I could give you a story, but I can't. I guess it's this _Peaceful -Moments_ business that's been and put your editor on to this joint, -ain't it? Say, though, that's a queer thing, that paper. Why, only a few -weeks ago it used to be a sort of take-home-and-read-to-the-kids affair. -A friend of mine used to buy it regular. And then suddenly it comes out -with a regular whoop, and starts knocking these tenements and boosting -Kid Brady, and all that. It gets past me. All I know is that it's begun -to get this place talked about. Why, you see for yourself how it is. -Here is your editor sending you down to get a story about it. But, say, -those _Peaceful Moments_ guys are taking big risks. I tell you -straight they are, and I know. I happen to be wise to a thing or two -about what's going on on the other side, and I tell you there's going -to be something doing if they don't cut it out quick. Mr. Qem, the -fellow who owns this place isn't the man to sit still and smile. He's -going to get busy. Say, what paper do you come from?" - -"_Peaceful Moments_," said John. - -For a moment the inwardness of the information did not seem to come -home to Mr. Gooch. Then it hit him. He spun round. John was standing -squarely between him and the stairs. - -"Hey, what's all this?" demanded Mr. Gooch nervously. The light was dim -in the passage, but it was sufficiently light to enable him to see -John's face, and it did not reassure him. - -"I'll soon tell you," said John. "First, however, let's get this -business of the kid's rent settled. Take it out of this and give me the -receipt." - -He pulled out a bill. - -"Curse his rent," said Mr. Gooch. "Let me pass." - -"Soon," said John. "Business before pleasure. How much does the kid -have to pay for the privilege of suffocating in this infernal place? As -much as that? Well, give me a receipt, and then we can get on to more -important things." - -"Let me pass." - -"Receipt," said John laconically. - -Mr. Gooch looked at the big stick, then scribbled a few words in his -notebook and tore out the page. John thanked him. - -"I will see that it reaches him," he said. "And now will you kindly -tell me the name of the man for whom you collected that money?" - -"Let me pass," bellowed Mr. Gooch. "I'll bring an action against you -for assault and battery. Playing a fool game like this! Get away from -those stairs." - -"There has been no assault and battery--yet," said John. "Well, are you -going to tell me?" - -Mr. Gooch shuffled restlessly. John leaned against the banisters. - -"As you said a moment ago," he observed, "the staff of _Peaceful -Moments_ is taking big risks. I knew it before you told me. I have -had practical demonstration of the fact. And that is why this Broster -Street thing has got to be finished quick. We can't afford to wait. So -I am going to have you tell me this man's name right now." - -"Help!" yelled Mr. Gooch. - -The noise died away, echoing against the walls. No answering cry came -from below. Custom had staled the piquancy of such cries in Broster -Street. If anybody heard it, nobody thought the matter worth -investigation. - -"If you do that again," said John, "I'll break you in half. Now then! I -can't wait much longer. Get busy!" - -He looked huge and sinister to Mr. Gooch, standing there in the -uncertain light; it was very lonely on that top floor and the rest of -the world seemed infinitely far away. Mr. Gooch wavered. He was loyal -to his employer, but he was still more loyal to Mr. Gooch. - -"Well?" said John. - -There was a clatter on the stairs of one running swiftly, and Pugsy -Maloney burst into view. For the first time since John had known him, -Pugsy was openly excited. - -"Say, boss," he cried, "dey's coming!" - -"What? Who?" - -"Why, dem. I seen dem T'ree Pointers--Spider Reilly an'--" - -He broke off with a yelp of surprise. Mr. Gooch had seized his -opportunity, and had made his dash for safety. With a rush he dived -past John, nearly upsetting Pugsy, who stood in his path, and sprang -down the stairs. Once he tripped, but recovered himself, and in another -instant only the faint sound of his hurrying footsteps reached them. - -John had made a movement as if to follow, but the full meaning of -Pugsy's words came upon him and he stopped. - -"Spider Reilly?" he said. - -"I guess it was Spider Reilly," said Pugsy, excitedly. "Dey called him -Spider. I guess dey piped youse comin' in here. Gee! it's pretty -fierce, boss, dis! What youse goin' to do?" - -"Where did you see them, Pugsy?" - -"On the street just outside. Dere was a bunch of dem spielin' togedder, -and I hears dem say you was in here. Dere ain't no ways out but de -front, so dey ain't hurryin'. Dey just reckon to pike along upstairs, -peekin' inter each room till dey find you. An' dere's a bunch of dem -goin' to wait on de street in case youse beat it past down de stairs -while de odder guys is rubberin' for youse. Gee, ain't dis de limit!" - -John stood thinking. His mind was working rapidly. Suddenly he smiled. - -"It's all right, Pugsy," he said. "It looks bad, but I see a way out. -I'm going up that ladder there and through the trapdoor on to the roof. -I shall be all right there. If they find me, they can only get at me one -at a time. And, while I'm there, here's what I want you to do." - -"Shall I go for de cops, boss?" - -"No, not the cops. Do you know where Dude Dawson lives?" - -The light of intelligence began to shine in Master Maloney's face. His -eye glistened with approval. This was strategy of the right sort. - -"I can ask around," he said. "I'll soon find him all right." - -"Do, and as quick as you can. And when you've found him tell him that -his old chum, Spider Reilly, is here, with the rest of his crowd. And -now I'd better be getting up on to my perch. Off you go, Pugsy, my son, -and don't take a week about it. Good-by." - -Pugsy vanished, and John, going to the ladder, climbed out on to the -roof with his big stick. He looked about him. The examination was -satisfactory. The trapdoor appeared to be the only means of access to -the roof, and between this roof and that of the next building there was -a broad gulf. The position was practically impregnable. Only one thing -could undo him, and that was, if the enemy should mount to the next -roof and shoot from there. And even then he would have cover in the -shape of the chimney. It was a pity that the trap opened downward, for -he had no means of securing it and was obliged to allow it to hang -open. But, except for that, his position could hardly have been -stronger. - -As yet there was no sound of the enemy's approach. Evidently, as Pugsy -had said, they were conducting the search, room by room, in a thorough -and leisurely way. He listened with his ear close to the open trapdoor, -but could hear nothing. - -A startled exclamation directly behind him brought him to his feet in a -flash, every muscle tense. He whirled his stick above his head as he -turned, ready to strike, then let it fall with a clatter. For there, a -bare yard away, stood Betty. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -JOURNEY'S END - - -The capacity of the human brain for surprise, like that of the human -body for pain, is limited. For a single instant a sense of utter -unreality struck John like a physical blow. The world flickered before -his eyes and the air seemed full of strange noises. Then, quite -suddenly, these things passed, and he found himself looking at her with -a total absence of astonishment, mildly amused in some remote corner of -his brain at his own calm. It was absurd, he told himself, that he -should be feeling as if he had known of her presence there all the -time. Yet it was so. If this were a dream, he could not be taking the -miracle more as a matter of course. Joy at the sight of her he felt, -keen and almost painful, but no surprise. The shock had stunned his -sense of wonder. - -She was wearing a calico apron over her dress, an apron that had -evidently been designed for a large woman. Swathed in its folds, she -suggested a child playing at being grown up. Her sleeves were rolled -back to the elbow, and her slim arms dripped with water. Strands of -brown hair were blowing loose in the evening breeze. To John she had -never seemed so bewitchingly pretty. He stared at her till the pallor -of her face gave way to a warm red glow. - -As they stood there, speechless, there came from the other side of the -chimney, softly at first, then swelling, the sound of a child's voice, -raised in a tentative wail. Betty started violently. The next moment -she was gone, and from the unseen parts beyond the chimney came the -noise of splashing water. - -And at the same instant, through the trap, came a trampling of feet and -the sound of whispering. The enemy had reached the top floor. - -John was conscious of a remarkable exhilaration. He felt insanely -light-hearted. He laughed aloud at the thought that until then he had -completely forgotten the very existence of these earnest seekers after -his downfall. He threw back his head and shouted. There was something -so ridiculous in their assumption that they mattered to a man who had -found Betty again. - -He thrust his head down through the trap, to see what was going on. The -dark passage was full of indistinct forms, gathered together in puzzled -groups. The mystery of the vanished object of their pursuit was being -discussed in hoarse whispers. - -Suddenly there was an excited shout, then a rush of feet. John drew -back his head, and waited, gripping his stick. - -Voices called to each other in the passage below. - -"De roof!" - -"On top de roof!" - -"He's beaten it for de roof!" - -Feet shuffled on the stone floor. The voices ceased abruptly. And then, -like a jack-in-the-box, there popped through the trap a head and -shoulders. - -The new arrival was a young man with a shock of red hair, a broken -nose, and a mouth from which force or the passage of time had removed -three front teeth. He held on to the edge of the trap, and stared up at -John. - -John beamed down at him, and shifted his grip on the stick. - -"Who's here?" he cried. "Historic picture. 'Old Dr. Cook discovers the -North Pole.'" - -The red-headed young man blinked. The strong light of the open air was -trying to his eyes. - -"Youse had best come down," he observed coldly. "We've got youse." - -"And," continued John, unmoved, "is instantly handed a gum-drop by his -faithful Eskimo." - -As he spoke, he brought the stick down on the knuckles which disfigured -the edges of the trap. The intruder uttered a howl and dropped out of -sight. In the passage below there were whisperings and mutterings, -growing gradually louder till something resembling coherent -conversation came to John's ears, as he knelt by the trap making -meditative billiard shots with the stick at a small pebble. - -"Aw g'wan! Don't be a quitter." - -"Who's a quitter?" - -"Youse a quitter. Get on top de roof. He can't hoit youse." - -"De guy's gotten a big stick." - -John nodded appreciatively. - -"I and Theodore," he murmured. - -A somewhat baffled silence on the part of the attacking force was -followed by further conversation. - -"Gee! Some guy's got to go up." - -Murmur of assent from the audience. - -A voice, in inspired tones: "Let Sam do it." - -The suggestion made a hit. There was no doubt about that. It was a -success from the start. Quite a little chorus of voices expressed -sincere approval of the very happy solution to what had seemed an -insoluble problem. John, listening from above, failed to detect in the -choir of glad voices one that might belong to Sam himself. Probably -gratification had rendered the chosen one dumb. - -"Yes, let Sam do it," cried the unseen chorus. The first speaker, -unnecessarily, perhaps--for the motion had been carried almost -unanimously--but possibly with the idea of convincing the one member of -the party in whose bosom doubts might conceivably be harbored, went on -to adduce reasons. - -"Sam bein' a coon," he argued, "ain't goin' to git hoit by no stick. -Youse can't hoit a coon by soakin' him on de coco, can you, Sam?" - -John waited with some interest for the reply, but it did not come. -Possibly Sam did not wish to generalize on insufficient experience. - -"We can but try," said John softly, turning the stick round in his -fingers. - -A report like a cannon sounded in the passage below. It was merely a -revolver shot, but in the confined space it was deafening. The bullet -sang up into the sky. - -"Never hit me," said John cheerfully. - -The noise was succeeded by a shuffling of feet. John grasped his stick -more firmly. This was evidently the real attack. The revolver shot had -been a mere demonstration of artillery to cover the infantry's advance. - -Sure enough, the next moment a woolly head popped through the opening, -and a pair of rolling eyes gleamed up at him. - -"Why, Sam!" he said cordially, "this is great. Now for our interesting -experiment. My idea is that you _can_ hurt a coon's head with a -stick if you hit it hard enough. Keep quite still. Now. What, are you -coming up? Sam, I hate to do it, but--" - -A yell rang out. John's theory had been tested and proved correct. - -By this time the affair had begun to attract spectators. The noise of -the revolver had proved a fine advertisement. The roof of the house -next door began to fill up. Only a few of the occupants could get a -clear view of the proceedings, for the chimney intervened. There was -considerable speculation as to what was passing in the Three Points -camp. John was the popular favorite. The early comers had seen his -interview with Sam, and were relating it with gusto to their friends. -Their attitude toward John was that of a group of men watching a dog at -a rat hole. They looked to him to provide entertainment for them, but -they realized that the first move must be with the attackers. They were -fair-minded men, and they did not expect John to make any aggressive -move. - -Their indignation, when the proceedings began to grow slow, was -directed entirely at the dilatory Three Pointers. They hooted the Three -Pointers. They urged them to go home and tuck themselves up in bed. The -spectators were mostly Irishmen, and it offended them to see what -should have been a spirited fight so grossly bungled. - -"G'wan away home, ye quitters!" roared one. - -A second member of the audience alluded to them as "stiffs." - -It was evident that the besieging army was beginning to grow a little -unpopular. More action was needed if they were to retain the esteem of -Broster Street. - -Suddenly there came another and a longer explosion from below, and more -bullets wasted themselves on air. John sighed. - -"You make me tired," he said. - -The Irish neighbors expressed the same sentiment in different and more -forcible words. There was no doubt about it--as warriors, the Three -Pointers were failing to give satisfaction. - -A voice from the passage called to John. - -"Say!" - -"Well?" said John. - -"Are youse comin' down off out of dat roof?" - -"Would you mind repeating that remark?" - -"Are youse goin' to quit off out of dat roof?" - -"Go away and learn some grammar," said John severely. - -"Hey!" - -"Well?" - -"Are youse--?" - -"No, my son," said John, "since you ask it, I am not. I like being up -here. How is Sam?" - -There was silence below. The time began to pass slowly. The Irishmen on -the other roof, now definitely abandoning hope of further -entertainment, proceeded with hoots of derision to climb down one by -one into the recesses of their own house. - -And then from the street far below there came a fusillade of shots and -a babel of shouts and counter-shouts. The roof of the house next door -filled again with a magical swiftness, and the low wall facing the -street became black with the backs of those craning over. There -appeared to be great doings in the street. - -John smiled comfortably. - -In the army of the corridor confusion had arisen. A scout, clattering -upstairs, had brought the news of the Table Hillites' advent, and there -was doubt as to the proper course to pursue. Certain voices urged going -down to help the main body. Others pointed out that this would mean -abandoning the siege of the roof. The scout who had brought the news -was eloquent in favor of the first course. - -"Gee!" he cried, "don't I keep tellin' youse dat de Table Hills is -here? Sure, dere's a whole bunch of dem, and unless youse come on down -dey'll bite de hull head off of us lot. Leave dat stiff on de roof. Let -Sam wait here wit' his canister, and den he can't get down, 'cos Sam'll -pump him full of lead while he's beatin' it t'roo de trapdoor. Sure!" - -John nodded reflectively. - -"There is certainly something in that," he murmured. "I guess the grand -rescue scene in the third act has sprung a leak. This will want -thinking over." - -In the street the disturbance had now become terrible. Both sides were -hard at it, and the Irishmen on the roof, rewarded at last for their -long vigil, were yelling encouragement promiscuously and whooping with -the unfettered ecstasy of men who are getting the treat of their lives -without having paid a penny for it. - -The behavior of the New York policeman in affairs of this kind is based -on principles of the soundest practical wisdom. The unthinking man -would rush in and attempt to crush the combat in its earliest and -fiercest stages. The New York policeman, knowing the importance of his -safety, and the insignificance of the gangsman's, permits the opposing -forces to hammer each other into a certain distaste for battle, and -then, when both sides have begun to have enough of it, rushes in -himself and clubs everything in sight. It is an admirable process in -its results, but it is sure rather than swift. - -Proceedings in the affair below had not yet reached the -police-interference stage. The noise, what with the shots and yells -from the street and the ear-piercing approval of the roof audience, was -just working up to a climax. - -John rose. He was tired of kneeling by the trap, and there was no -likelihood of Sam making another attempt to climb through. He got up -and stretched himself. - -And then he saw that Betty was standing beside him, holding with each -hand a small and--by Broster Street standards--uncannily clean child. -The children were scared and whimpering, and she stooped to soothe -them. Then she turned to John, her eyes wide with anxiety. - -"Are you hurt?" she cried. "What has been happening? Are you hurt?" - -John's heart leaped at the anxious break in her voice. - -"It's all right," he said soothingly. "It's absolutely all right. -Everything's over." - -As if to give him the lie, the noise in the street swelled to a -crescendo of yells and shots. - -"What's that?" cried Betty, starting. - -"I fancy," said John, "the police must be taking a hand. It's all -right. There's a little trouble down below there between two of the -gangs. It won't last long now." - -"Who were those men?" - -"My friends in the passage?" he said lightly. "Those were some of the -Three Points gang. We were holding the concluding exercise of a rather -lively campaign that's been--" - -Betty leaned weakly against the chimney. There was silence now in the -street. Only the distant rumble of an elevated train broke the -stillness. She drew her hands from the children's grasp, and covered -her face. As she lowered them again, John saw that the blood had left -her cheeks. She was white and shaking. He moved forward impulsively. - -"Betty!" - -She tottered, reaching blindly for the chimney for support, and without -further words he gathered her into his arms as if she had been the -child she looked, and held her there, clutching her to him fiercely, -kissing the brown hair that brushed against his face, and soothing her -with vague murmurings. - -Her breath came in broken gasps. She laughed hysterically. - -"I thought they were killing you--killing you--and I couldn't leave my -babies--they were so frightened, poor little mites--I thought they were -killing you." - -"Betty!" - -Her arms about his neck tightened their grip convulsively, forcing his -head down until his face rested against hers. And so they stood, -rigid, while the two children stared with round eyes and whimpered -unheeded. - -Her grip relaxed. Her hands dropped slowly to her side. She leaned back -against the circle of his arms, and looked up at him--a strange look, -full of a sweet humility. - -"I thought I was strong," she said quietly. "I'm weak--but I don't -care." - -He looked at her with glowing eyes, not understanding, but content that -the journey was ended, that she was there, in his arms, speaking to -him. - -"I always loved you, dear," she went on. "You knew that, didn't you? -But I thought I was strong enough to give you up for--for a -principle--but I was wrong. I can't do without you--I knew it just now -when I saw--" She stopped, and shuddered. "I can't do without you," she -repented. - -She felt the muscles of his arms quiver, and pressed more closely -against them. They were strong arms, protecting arms, restful to lean -against at the journey's end. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -A LEMON - - -That bulwark of _Peaceful Moments_, Pugsy Maloney, was rather the -man of action than the man of tact. Otherwise, when, a moment later, he -thrust his head up through the trap, he would have withdrawn -delicately, and not split the silence with a raucous "Hey!" which acted -on John and Betty like an electric shock. - -John glowered at him. Betty was pink, but composed. Pugsy climbed -leisurely on to the roof, and surveyed the group. - -"Why, hello!" he said, as he saw Betty more closely. - -"Well, Pugsy," said Betty. "How are you?" - -John turned in surprise. - -"Do you know Pugsy?" - -Betty looked at him, puzzled. - -"Why, of course I do." - -"Sure," said Pugsy. "Miss Brown was stenographer on de poiper till she -beat it." - -"Miss Brown!" - -There was utter bewilderment in John's face. - -"I changed my name when I went to _Peaceful Moments_." - -"Then are you--did you--?" - -"Yes, I wrote those articles. That's how I happen to be here now. I -come down every day and help look after the babies. Poor little souls, -there seems to be nobody else here who has time to do it. It's -dreadful. Some of them--you wouldn't believe--I don't think they could -ever have had a real bath in their lives." - -"Baths is foolishness," commented Master Maloney austerely, eying the -scoured infants with a touch of disfavor. - -John was reminded of a second mystery that needed solution. - -"How on earth did you get up here, Pugsy?" he asked. "How did you get -past Sam?" - -"Sam? I didn't see no Sam. Who's Sam?" - -"One of those fellows. A coon. They left him on guard with a gun, so -that I shouldn't get down." - -"Ah, I met a coon beating it down de stairs. I guess dat was him. I -guess he got cold feet." - -"Then there's nothing to stop us from getting down." - -"Nope. Dat's right. Dere ain't a T'ree Pointer wit'in a mile. De cops -have been loadin' dem into de patrol-wagon by de dozen." - -John turned to Betty. - -"We'll go and have dinner somewhere. You haven't begun to explain -things yet." - -Betty shook her head with a smile. - -"I haven't got time to go out to dinners," she said. "I'm a -working-girl. I'm cashier at Fontelli's Italian Restaurant. I shall be -on duty in another half-hour." - -John was aghast. - -"You!" - -"It's a very good situation," said Betty demurely. "Six dollars a week -and what I steal. I haven't stolen anything yet, and I think Mr. Jarvis -is a little disappointed in me. But of course I haven't settled down -properly." - -"Jarvis? Bat Jarvis?" - -"Yes. He has been very good to me. He got me this place, and has looked -after me all the time." - -"I'll buy him a thousand cats," said John fervently. "But, Betty, you -mustn't go there any more. You must quit. You--" - -"If _Peaceful Moments_ would reengage me?" said Betty. - -She spoke lightly, but her face was serious. - -"Dear," she said quickly, "I can't be away from you now, while there's -danger. I couldn't bear it. Will you let me come?" - -He hesitated. - -"You will. You must." Her manner changed again. "That's settled, then. -Pugsy, I'm coming back to the paper. Are you glad?" - -"Sure t'ing," said Pugsy. "You're to de good." - -"And now," she went on, "I must give these babies back to their -mothers, and then I'll come with you." - -She lowered herself through the trap, and John handed the children down -to her. Pugsy looked on, smoking a thoughtful cigarette. - -John drew a deep breath. Pugsy, removing the cigarette from his mouth, -delivered himself of a stately word of praise. - -"She's a boid," he said. - -"Pugsy," said John, feeling in his pocket, and producing a roll of -bills, "a dollar a word is our rate for contributions like that." - - * * * * * - -John pushed back his chair slightly, stretched out his legs, and -lighted a cigarette, watching Betty fondly through the smoke. The -resources of the Knickerbocker Hotel had proved equal to supplying the -staff of _Peaceful Moments_ with an excellent dinner, and John had -stoutly declined to give or listen to any explanations until the coffee -arrived. - -"Thousands of promising careers," he said, "have been ruined by the -fatal practise of talking seriously at dinner. But now we might begin." - -Betty looked at him across the table with shining eyes. It was good to -be together again. - -"My explanations won't take long," she said. "I ran away from you. And, -when you found me, I ran away again." - -"But I didn't find you," objected John. "That was my trouble." - -"But my aunt told you I was at _Peaceful Moments_!" - -"On the contrary, I didn't even know you had an aunt." - -"Well, she's not exactly that. She's my stepfather's aunt--Mrs. Oakley. -I was certain you had gone straight to her, and that she had told you -where I was." - -"The Mrs. Oakley? The--er--philanthropist?" - -"Don't laugh at her," said Betty quickly. "She was so good to me!" - -"She passes," said John decidedly. - -"And now," said Betty, "it's your turn." - -John lighted another cigarette. - -"My story," he said, "is rather longer. When they threw me out of -Mervo--" - -"What!" - -"I'm afraid you don't keep abreast of European history," he said. -"Haven't you heard of the great revolution in Mervo and the overthrow -of the dynasty? Bloodless, but invigorating. The populace rose against -me as one man--except good old General Poineau. He was for me, and -Crump was neutral, but apart from them my subjects were unanimous. -There's a republic again in Mervo now." - -"But why? What had you done?" - -"Well, I abolished the gaming-tables. But, more probably," he went on -quickly, "they saw what a perfect dub I was in every--" - -She interrupted him. - -"Do you mean to say that, just because of me--?" - -"Well," he said awkwardly, "as a matter of fact what you said did make -me think over my position, and, of course, directly I thought over -it--oh, well, anyway, I closed down gambling in Mervo, and then--" - -"John!" - -He was aware of a small hand creeping round the table under cover of -the cloth. He pressed it swiftly, and, looking round, caught the eye of -a hovering waiter, who swooped like a respectful hawk. - -"Did you want anything, sir?" - -"I've got it, thanks," said John. - -The waiter moved away. - -"Well, directly they had fired me, I came over here. I don't know what -I expected to do. I suppose I thought I might find you by chance. I -pretty soon saw how hopeless it was, and it struck me that, if I didn't -get some work to do mighty quick, I shouldn't be much good to anyone -except the alienists." - -"Dear!" - -The waiter stared, but John's eyes stopped him in mid-swoop. - -"Then I found Smith--" - -"Where is Mr. Smith?" - -"In prison," said John with a chuckle. - -"In prison!" - -"He resisted and assaulted the police. I'll tell you about it later. -Well, Smith told me of the alterations in _Peaceful Moments_, and -I saw that it was just the thing for me. And it has occupied my mind -quite some. To think of you being the writer of those Broster Street -articles! You certainly have started something, Betty! Goodness knows -where it will end. I hoped to have brought off a coup this afternoon, -but the arrival of Sam and his friends just spoiled it." - -"This afternoon? Yes, why were you there? What were you doing?" - -"I was interviewing the collector of rents and trying to dig his -employer's name out of him. It was Smith's idea. Smith's theory was -that the owner of the tenements must have some special private reason -for lying low, and that he would employ some special fellow, whom he -could trust, as a rent-collector. And I'm pretty certain he was right. -I cornered the collector, a little, rabbit-faced man named Gooch, and I -believe he was on the point of--What's the matter?" - -Betty's forehead was wrinkled. Her eyes wore a far-away expression. - -"I'm trying to remember something. I seem to know the name, Gooch. And -I seem to associate it with a little, rabbit-faced man. And--quick, -tell me some more about him. He's just hovering about on the edge of my -memory. Quick! Push him in!" - -John threw his mind back to the interview in the dark passage, trying -to reconstruct it. - -"He's small," he said slowly. "His eyes protrude--so do his -teeth--He--he--yes, I remember now--he has a curious red mark--" - -"On his right cheek," said Betty triumphantly. - -"By Jove!" cried John. "You've got him?" - -"I remember him perfectly. He was--" She stopped with a little gasp. - -"Yes?" - -"John, he was one of my stepfather's secretaries," she said. - -They looked at each other in silence. - -"It can't be," said John at length. - -"It can. It is. He must be. He has scores of interests everywhere. He -prides himself on it. It's the most natural thing." - -John shook his head doubtfully. - -"But why all the fuss? Your stepfather isn't the man to mind public -opinion--" - -"But don't you see? It's as Mr. Smith said. The private reason. It's as -clear as daylight. Naturally he would do anything rather than be found -out. Don't you see? Because of Mrs. Oakley." - -"Because of Mrs. Oakley?" - -"You don't know her as I do. She is a curious mixture. She's -double-natured. You called her the philanthropist just now. Well, she -would be one, if--if she could bear to part with money. Yes, I know it -sounds ridiculous. But it's so. She is mean about money, but she -honestly hates to hear of anybody treating poor people badly. If my -stepfather were really the owner of those tenements, and she should -find it out, she would have nothing more to do with him. It's true. I -know her." - -The smile passed away from John's face. - -"By George!" he said. "It certainly begins to hang together." - -"I know I'm right." - -"I think you are." - -He sat meditating for a moment. - -"Well?" he said at last. - -"What do you mean?" - -"I mean, what are we to do? Do we go on with this?" - -"Go on with it? I don't understand." - -"I mean--well, it has become rather a family matter, you see. Do you -feel as--warlike against Mr. Scobell as you did against an unknown -lessee?" - -Betty's eyes sparkled. - -"I don't think I should feel any different if--if it was you," she -said. "I've been spending days and days in those houses, John dear, and -I've seen such utter squalor and misery, where there needn't be any at -all if only the owner would do his duty, and--and--" - -She stopped. Her eyes were misty. - -"Thumbs down, in fact," said John, nodding. "I'm with you." - -As he spoke, two men came down the broad staircase into the grill-room. -Betty's back was towards them, but John saw them, and stared. - -"What are you looking at?" asked Betty. - -"Will you count ten before looking round?" - -"What is it?" - -"Your stepfather has just come in." - -"What!" - -"He's sitting at the other side of the room, directly behind you. Count -ten!" - -But Betty had twisted round in her chair. - -"Where? Where?" - -"Just where you're looking. Don't let him see you." - -"I don't-- Oh!" - -"Got him?" - -He leaned back in his chair. - -"The plot thickens, eh?" he said. "What is Mr. Scobell doing in New -York, I wonder, if he has not come to keep an eye on his interests?" - -Betty had whipped round again. Her face was white with excitement. - -"It's true," she whispered. "I was right. Do you see who that is with -him? The man?" - -"Do you know him? He's a stranger to me." - -"It's Mr. Parker," said Betty. - -John drew in his breath sharply. - -"Are you sure?" - -"Positive." - -John laughed quietly. He thought for a moment, then beckoned to the -hovering waiter. - -"What are you going to do?" asked Betty. - -"Bring me a small lemon," said John. - -"Lemon squash, sir?" - -"Not a lemon squash. A plain lemon. The fruit of that name. The common -or garden citron, which is sharp to the taste and not pleasant to have -handed to one. Also a piece of note paper, a little tissue paper, and -an envelope. - -"What are you going to do?" asked Betty again. - -John beamed. - -"Did you ever read the Sherlock Holmes story entitled 'The Five Orange -Pips'? Well, when a man in that story received a mysterious envelope -containing five orange pips, it was a sign that he was due to get his. -It was all over, as far as he was concerned, except 'phoning for the -undertaker. I propose to treat Mr. Scobell better than that. He shall -have a whole lemon." - -The waiter returned. John wrapped up the lemon carefully, wrote on the -note paper the words, "To B. Scobell, Esq., Property Owner, Broster -Street, from Prince John of _Peaceful Moments_, this gift," and -enclosed it in the envelope. - -"Do you see that gentleman at the table by the pillar?" he said. "Give -him these. Just say a gentleman sent them." - -The waiter smiled doubtfully. John added a two-dollar bill to the -collection in his hand. - -"You needn't give him that," he said. - -The waiter smiled again, but this time not doubtfully. - -"And now," said John as the messenger ambled off, "perhaps it would be -just as well if we retired." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -THE FINAL ATTEMPT - - -Proof that his shot had not missed its mark was supplied to John -immediately upon his arrival at the office on the following morning, -when he was met by Pugsy Maloney with the information that a gentleman -had called to see him. - -"With or without a black-jack?" enquired John. "Did he give any name?" - -"Sure. Parker's his name. He blew in oncst before when Mr. Smith was -here. I loosed him into de odder room." - -John walked through. The man he had seen with Mr. Scobell at the -Knickerbocker was standing at the window. - -"Mr. Parker?" - -The other turned, as the door opened, and looked at him keenly. - -"Are you Mr. Maude?" - -"I am," said John. - -"I guess you don't need to be told what I've come about?" - -"No." - -"See here," said Mr. Parker. "I don't know how you've found things out, -but you've done it, and we're through. We quit." - -"I'm glad of that," said John. "Would you mind informing Spider Reilly -of that fact? It will make life pleasanter for all of us." - -"Mr. Scobell sent me along here to ask you to come and talk over this -thing with him. He's at the Knickerbocker. I've a cab waiting outside. -Can you come along?" - -"I'd rather he came here." - -"And I bet he'd rather come here than be where he is. That little -surprise packet of yours last night put him down and out. Gave him a -stroke of some sort. He's in bed now, with half-a-dozen doctors working -on him." - -John thought for a moment. - -"Oh," he said slowly, "if it's that--very well." - -He could not help feeling a touch of remorse. He had no reason to be -fond of Mr. Scobell, but he was sorry that this should have happened. - -They went out on the street. A taximeter cab was standing by the -sidewalk. They got in. Neither spoke. John was thoughtful and -preoccupied. Mr. Parker, too, appeared to be absorbed in his own -thoughts. He sat with folded arms and lowered head. - -The cab buzzed up Fifth Avenue. Suddenly something, half-seen through -the window, brought John to himself with a jerk. It was the great white -mass of the Plaza Hotel. The next moment he saw that they were abreast -of the park, and for the first time an icy wave of suspicion swept over -him. - -"Here, what's this?" he cried. "Where are you taking me?" - -Mr. Parker's right hand came swiftly out of ambush, and something -gleamed in the sun. - -"Don't move," said Mr. Parker. The hard nozzle of a pistol pressed -against John's chest. "Keep that hand still." - -John dropped his hand. Mr. Parker leaned back, with the pistol resting -easily on his knee. The cab began to move more quickly. - -John's mind was in a whirl. His chief emotion was not fear, but disgust -that he should have allowed himself to be trapped, with such absurd -ease. He blushed for himself. Mr. Parker's face was expressionless, but -who could say what tumults of silent laughter were not going on inside -him? John bit his lip. - -"Well?" he said at last. - -Mr. Parker did not reply. - -"Well?" said John again. "What's the next move?" - -It flashed across his mind that, unless driven to it by an attack, his -captor would do nothing for the moment without running grave risks -himself. To shoot now would be to attract attention. The cab would be -overtaken at once by bicycle police, and stopped. There would be no -escape. No, nothing could happen till they reached open country. At -least he would have time to think this matter over in all its bearings. - -Mr. Parker ignored the question. He was sitting in the same attitude of -watchfulness, the revolver resting on his knee. He seemed mistrustful -of John's right hand, which was hanging limply at his side. It was from -this quarter that he appeared to expect attack. The cab was bowling -easily up the broad street, past rows and rows of high houses each -looking exactly the same as the last. Occasionally, to the right, -through a break in the line of buildings, a glimpse of the river could -be seen. - -A faint hope occurred to John that, by talking, he might put the other -off his guard for just that instant which was all he asked. He exerted -himself to find material for conversation. - -"Tell me," he said, "what you said about Mr. Scobell, was that true? -About his being ill in bed?" - -Mr. Parker did not answer, but a wintry smile flittered across his -face. - -"It was not?" said John. "Well, I'm glad of that. I don't wish Mr. -Scobell any harm." - -Mr. Parker looked at him doubtfully. - -"Say, why are you in this game at all?" he said. "What made you butt -in?" - -"One must do something," said John. "It's interesting work." - -"If you'll quit--" - -John shook his head. - -"I own it's a tempting proposition, things being as they are, but I -won't give up yet. You never know what may happen." - -"Well, you can make a mighty near guess this trip." - -"You can't do a thing yet, that's sure," said John confidently. "If you -shot me now, the cab would be stopped, and you would be lynched by the -populace. I seem to see them tearing you limb from limb. 'She loves -me!' Off comes an arm. 'She loves me not!' A leg joins the little heap -on the ground. That is what would happen, Mr. Parker." - -The other shrugged his shoulders, and relapsed into silence once more. - -"What are you going to do with me, Mr. Parker?" asked John. - -Mr. Parker did not reply. - - * * * * * - -The cab moved swiftly on. Now they had reached the open country. An -occasional wooden shack was passed, but that was all. At any moment, -John felt, the climax of the drama might be reached, and he got ready. -His muscles stiffened for a spring. There was little chance of its -being effective, but at least it would be good to put up some kind of a -fight. And he had a faint hope that the suddenness of his movement -might upset the other's aim. He was bound to be hit somewhere. That was -certain. But quickness might save him to some extent. He braced his leg -against the back of the cab. And, as he did so, its smooth speed -changed to a series of jarring jumps, each more emphatic than the last. -It slowed down, then came to a halt. There was a thud, as the chauffeur -jumped down. John heard him fumbling in the tool box. Presently the -body of the machine was raised slightly as he got to work with the -jack. John's muscles relaxed. He leaned back. Surely something could be -made of this new development. But the hand that held the revolver never -wavered. He paused, irresolute. And at the moment somebody spoke in the -road outside. - -"Had a breakdown?" enquired the voice. - -John recognized it. It was the voice of Kid Brady. - - * * * * * - -The Kid, as he had stated that he intended to do, had begun his -training for his match with Eddie Wood at White Plains. It was his -practise to open a course of training with a little gentle road-work, -and it was while jogging along the highway a couple of miles from his -training camp, in company with the two thick-necked gentlemen who acted -as his sparring partners, that he had come upon the broken-down -taxicab. - -If this had happened after his training had begun in real earnest, he -would have averted his eyes from the spectacle, however alluring, and -continued on his way without a pause. But now, as he had not yet -settled down to genuine hard work, he felt justified in turning aside -and looking into the matter. The fact that the chauffeur, who seemed to -be a taciturn man, lacking the conversational graces, manifestly -objected to an audience, deterred him not at all. One cannot have -everything in this world, and the Kid and his attendant thick-necks -were content to watch the process of mending the tire, without -demanding the additional joy of sparkling small talk from the man in -charge of the operations. - -"Guy's had a breakdown, sure," said the first of the thick-necks. - -"Surest thing you know," agreed his colleague. - -"Seems to me the tire's punctured," said the Kid. - -All three concentrated their gaze on the machine. - -"Kid's right," said thick-neck number one. "Guy's been an' bust a -tire." - -"Surest thing you know," said thick-neck number two. - -They observed the perspiring chauffeur in silence for a while. - -"Wonder how he did that, now?" speculated the Kid. - -"Ran over a nail, I guess," said thick-neck number one. - -"Surest thing you know," said the other, who, while perhaps somewhat -deficient in the matter of original thought, was a most useful fellow -to have by one--a sort of Boswell. - -"Did you run over a nail?" the Kid enquired of the chauffeur. - -The chauffeur worked on, unheeding. - -"This is his busy day," said the first thick-neck, with satire. "Guy's -too full of work to talk to us." - -"Deaf, shouldn't wonder," surmised the Kid. "Say, wonder what's he -doing with a taxi so far out of the city." - -"Some guy tells him to drive him out here, I guess. Say, it'll cost him -something, too. He'll have to strip off a few from his roll to pay for -this." - -John glanced at Mr. Parker, quivering with excitement. It was his last -chance. Would the Kid think to look inside the cab, or would he move -on? Could he risk a shout? - -Mr. Parker leaned forward, and thrust the muzzle of the pistol against -his body. The possibilities of the situation had evidently not been -lost upon him. - -"Keep quiet," he whispered. - -Outside, the conversation had begun again, and the Kid had made his -decision. - -"Pretty rich guy inside," he said, following up his companion's train -of thought. "I'm going to rubber through the window." - -John met Mr. Parker's eye, and smiled. - -There came the sound of the Kid's feet grating on the road, as he -turned, and, as he heard it, Mr. Parker for the first time lost his -head. With a vague idea of screening John, he half-rose. The pistol -wavered. It was the chance John had prayed for. His left hand shot out, -grasped the other's wrist, and gave it a sharp wrench. The pistol went -off with a deafening report, the bullet passing through the back of the -cab, then fell to the floor, as the fingers lost their hold. And the -next moment John's right fist, darting upward, crashed home. - -The effect was instantaneous. John had risen from his seat as he -delivered the blow, and it got the full benefit of his weight. Mr. -Parker literally crumpled up. His head jerked, then fell limply forward. -John pushed him on to the seat as he slid toward the floor. - -The interested face of the Kid appeared at the window. Behind him could -be seen portions of the faces of the two thick-necks. - -"Hello, Kid," said John. "I heard your voice. I hoped you might look in -for a chat." - -The Kid stared, amazed. - -"What's doin'?" he queried. - -"A good deal. I'll explain later. First, will you kindly knock that -chauffeur down and sit on his head?" - -"De guy's beat it," volunteered the first thick-neck. - -"Surest thing you know," said the other. - -"What's been doin'?" asked the Kid. "What are you going to do with this -guy?" - -John inspected the prostrate Mr. Parker, who had begun to stir -slightly. - -"I guess we'll leave him here," he said. "I've had all of his company -that I need for to-day. Show me the nearest station, Kid. I must be -getting back to New York. I'll tell you all about it as we go. A walk -will do me good. Riding in a taxi is pleasant, but, believe me, you can -have too much of it." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -A REPRESENTATIVE GATHERING - - -When John returned to the office, he found that his absence had been -causing Betty an anxious hour's waiting. She had been informed by Pugsy -that he had gone out in the company of Mr. Parker, and she felt uneasy. -She turned white at his story of the ride, but he minimized the -dangers. - -"I don't think he ever meant to shoot. I think he was going to shut me -up somewhere out there, and keep me till I promised to be good." - -"Do you think my stepfather told him to do it?" - -"I doubt it. I fancy Parker is a man who acts a good deal on his own -inspirations. But we'll ask him, when he calls to-day." - -"Is he going to call?" - -"I have an idea he will," said John. "I sent him a note just now, -asking if he could manage a visit." - -It was unfortunate, in the light of subsequent events, that Mr. Jarvis -should have seen fit to bring with him to the office that afternoon two -of his collection of cats, and that Long Otto, who, as before, -accompanied him, should have been fired by his example to the extent of -introducing a large yellow dog. For before the afternoon was ended, -space in the office was destined to be at premium. - -Mr. Jarvis, when he had recovered from the surprise of seeing Betty and -learning that she had returned to her old situation, explained: - -"T'ought I'd bring de kits along," he said. "Dey starts fuss'n' wit' -each odder yesterday, so I brings dem along." - -John inspected the menagerie without resentment. - -"Sure!" he said. "They add a kind of peaceful touch to the scene." - -The atmosphere was, indeed, one of peace. The dog, after an inquisitive -journey round the room, lay down and went to sleep. The cats settled -themselves comfortably, one on each of Mr. Jarvis' knees. Long Otto, -surveying the ceiling with his customary glassy stare, smoked a long -cigar. And Bat, scratching one of the cats under the ear, began to -entertain John with some reminiscences of fits and kittens. - -But the peace did not last. Ten minutes had barely elapsed when the -dog, sitting up with a start, uttered a whine. The door burst open and -a little man dashed in. He was brown in the face, and had evidently -been living recently in the open air. Behind him was a crowd of -uncertain numbers. They were all strangers to John. - -"Yes?" he said. - -The little man glared speechlessly at the occupants of the room. The -two Bowery boys rose awkwardly. The cats fell to the floor. - -The rest of the party had entered. Betty recognized the Reverend Edwin -T. Philpotts and Mr. B. Henderson Asher. - -"My name is Renshaw," said the little man, having found speech. - -"What can I do for you?" asked John. - -The question appeared to astound the other. - -"What can you--! Of all--!" - -"Mr. Renshaw is the editor of _Peaceful Moments_," she said. "Mr. -Smith was only acting for him." - -Mr. Renshaw caught the name. - -"Yes. Mr. Smith. I want to see Mr. Smith. Where is he?" - -"In prison," said John. - -"In prison!" - -John nodded. - -"A good many things have happened since you left for your vacation. -Smith assaulted a policeman, and is now on Blackwell's Island." - -Mr. Renshaw gasped. Mr. B. Henderson Asher stared, and stumbled over -the cat. - -"And who are you?" asked the editor. - -"My name is Maude. I--" - -He broke off, to turn his attention to Mr. Jarvis and Mr. Asher, -between whom unpleasantness seemed to have arisen. Mr. Jarvis, holding -a cat in his arms, was scowling at Mr. Asher, who had backed away and -appeared apprehensive. - -"What is the trouble?" asked John. - -"Dis guy here wit' two left feet," said Bat querulously, "treads on de -kit." - -Mr. Renshaw, eying Bat and the silent Otto with disgust, intervened. - -"Who are these persons?" he enquired. - -"Poison yourself," rejoined Bat, justly incensed. "Who's de little -squirt, Mr. Maude?" - -John waved his hands. - -"Gentlemen, gentlemen," he said, "why descend to mere personalities? I -ought to have introduced you. This is Mr. Renshaw, our editor. These, -Mr. Renshaw, are Bat Jarvis and Long Otto, our acting fighting editors, -vice Kid Brady, absent on unavoidable business." - -The name stung Mr. Renshaw to indignation, as Smith's had done. - -"Brady!" he shrilled. "I insist that you give me a full explanation. I -go away by my doctor's orders for a vacation, leaving Mr. Smith to -conduct the paper on certain clearly defined lines. By mere chance, -while on my vacation, I saw a copy of the paper. It had been ruined." - -"Ruined?" said John. "On the contrary. The circulation has been going -up every week." - -"Who is this person, Brady? With Mr. Philpotts I have been going -carefully over the numbers which have been issued since my departure--" - -"An intellectual treat," murmured John. - -"--and in each there is a picture of this young man in a costume which -I will not particularize--" - -"There is hardly enough of it to particularize." - -"--together with a page of disgusting autobiographical matter." - -John held up his hand. - -"I protest," he said. "We court criticism, but this is mere abuse. I -appeal to these gentlemen to say whether this, for instance, is not -bright and interesting." - -He picked up the current number of _Peaceful Moments_, and turned -to the Kid's page. - -"This," he said, "describes a certain ten-round unpleasantness with one -Mexican Joe. 'Joe comes up for the second round and he gives me a nasty -look, but I thinks of my mother and swats him one in the lower ribs. He -gives me another nasty look. "All right, Kid," he says; "now I'll knock -you up into the gallery." And with that he cuts loose with a right -swing, but I falls into the clinch, and then--'" - -"Pah!" exclaimed Mr. Renshaw. - -"Go on, boss," urged Mr. Jarvis approvingly. "It's to de good, dat -stuff." - -"There!" said John triumphantly. "You heard? Mr. Jarvis, one of the -most firmly established critics east of Fifth Avenue stamps Kid Brady's -reminiscences with the hall-mark of his approval." - -"I falls fer de Kid every time," assented Mr. Jarvis. - -"Sure! You know a good thing when you see one. Why," he went on warmly, -"there is stuff in these reminiscences which would stir the blood of a -jellyfish. Let me quote you another passage, to show that they are not -only enthralling, but helpful as well. Let me see, where is it? Ah, I -have it. 'A bully good way of putting a guy out of business is this. -You don't want to use it in the ring, because rightly speaking it's a -foul, but you will find it mighty useful if any thick-neck comes up to -you in the street and tries to start anything. It's this way. While -he's setting himself for a punch, just place the tips of the fingers of -your left hand on the right side of the chest. Then bring down the heel -of your left hand. There isn't a guy living that could stand up against -that. The fingers give you a leverage to beat the band. The guy doubles -up, and you upper-cut him with your right, and out he goes.' Now, I bet -you never knew that before, Mr. Philpotts. Try it on your -parishioners." - -_"Peaceful Moments_," said Mr. Renshaw irately, "is no medium for -exploiting low prize-fighters." - -"Low prize-fighters! No, no! The Kid is as decent a little chap as -you'd meet anywhere. And right up in the championship class, too! He's -matched against Eddie Wood at this very moment. And Mr. Waterman will -support me in my statement that a victory over Eddie Wood means that he -gets a cast-iron claim to meet Jimmy Garvin for the championship." - -"It is abominable," burst forth Mr. Renshaw. "It is disgraceful. The -paper is ruined." - -"You keep saying that. It really isn't so. The returns are excellent. -Prosperity beams on us like a sun. The proprietor is more than -satisfied." - -"Indeed!" said Mr. Renshaw sardonically. - -"Sure," said John. - -Mr. Renshaw laughed an acid laugh. - -"You may not know it," he said, "but Mr. Scobell is in New York at this -very moment. We arrived together yesterday on the _Mauretania_. I -was spending my vacation in England when I happened to see the copy of -the paper. I instantly communicated with Mr. Scobell, who was at Mervo, -an island in the Mediterranean--" - -"I seem to know the name--" - -"--and received in reply a long cable desiring me to return to New York -immediately. I sailed on the _Mauretania_, and found that he was -one of the passengers. He was extremely agitated, let me tell you. So -that your impudent assertion that the proprietor is pleased--" - -John raised his eyebrows. - -"I don't quite understand," he said. "From what you say, one would -almost imagine that you thought Mr. Scobell was the proprietor of this -paper." - -Mr. Renshaw stared. Everyone stared, except Mr. Jarvis, who, since the -readings from the Kid's reminiscences had ceased, had lost interest in -the proceedings, and was now entertaining the cats with a ball of paper -tied to a string. - -"Thought that Mr. Scobell--?" repeated Mr. Renshaw. "Who is, if he is -not?" - -"I am," said John. - -There was a moment's absolute silence. - -"You!" cried Mr. Renshaw. - -"You!" exclaimed Mr. Waterman, Mr. Asher, and the Reverend Edwin T. -Philpotts. - -"Sure thing," said John. - -Mr. Renshaw groped for a chair, and sat down. - -"Am I going mad?" he demanded feebly. "Do I understand you to say that -you own this paper?" - -"I do." - -"Since when?" - -"Roughly speaking, about three days." - -Among his audience (still excepting Mr. Jarvis, who was tickling one of -the cats and whistling a plaintive melody) there was a tendency toward -awkward silence. To start assailing a seeming nonentity and then to -discover he is the proprietor of the paper to which you wish to -contribute is like kicking an apparently empty hat and finding your -rich uncle inside it. Mr. Renshaw in particular was disturbed. -Editorships of the kind to which he aspired are not easy to get. If he -were to be removed from _Peaceful Moments_ he would find it hard -to place himself anywhere else. Editors, like manuscripts, are rejected -from want of space. - -"I had a little money to invest," continued John. "And it seemed to me -that I couldn't do better than put it into _Peaceful Moments_. If -it did nothing else, it would give me a free hand in pursuing a policy -in which I was interested. Smith told me that Mr. Scobell's -representatives had instructions to accept any offer, so I made an -offer, and they jumped at it." - -Pugsy Maloney entered, bearing a card. - -"Ask him to wait just one moment," said John, reading it. - -He turned to Mr. Renshaw. - -"Mr. Renshaw," he said, "if you took hold of the paper again, helped by -these other gentlemen, do you think you could gather in our old -subscribers and generally make the thing a live proposition on the old -lines? Because, if so, I should be glad if you would start in with the -next number. I am through with the present policy. At least, I hope to -be in a few minutes. Do you think you can undertake that?" - -Mr. Renshaw, with a sigh of relief, intimated that he could. - -"Good," said John. "And now I'm afraid I must ask you to go. A rather -private and delicate interview is in the offing. Bat, I'm very much -obliged to you and Otto for your help. I don't know what we should have -done without it." - -"Aw, Chee!" said Mr. Jarvis. - -"Then good-by for the present." - -"Good-by, boss. Good-by, loidy." - -Long Otto pulled his forelock, and, accompanied by the cats and the -dog, they left the room. - -When Mr. Renshaw and the others had followed them, John rang the bell -for Pugsy. - -"Ask Mr. Scobell to step in," he said. - -The man of many enterprises entered. His appearance had deteriorated -since John had last met him. He had the air of one who has been caught -in the machinery. His face was even sallower than of yore, and there -was no gleam in his dull green eyes. - -He started at the sight of Betty, but he was evidently too absorbed in -the business in hand to be surprised at seeing her. He sank into a -chair, and stared gloomily at John. - -"Well?" he said. - -"Well?" said John. - -"This," observed Mr. Scobell simply, "is hell." He drew a cigar stump -mechanically from his vest pocket and lighted it. - -"What are you going to do about it?" he asked. - -"What are you?" said John. "It's up to you." - -Mr. Scobell gazed heavily into vacancy. - -"Ever since I started in to monkey with that darned Mervo," he said -sadly, "there ain't a thing gone right. I haven't been able to turn -around without bumping into myself. Everything I touch turns to mud. I -guess I can still breathe, but I'm not betting on that lasting long. Of -all the darned hoodoos that island was the worst. Say, I gotta close -down that Casino. What do you know about that! Sure thing. The old lady -won't stand for it. I had a letter from her." He turned to Betty. "You -got her all worked up, Betty. I'm not blaming you. It's just my jinx. -She took it into her head I'd been treating you mean, and she kicked at -the Casino. I gotta close it down or nix on the heir thing. That was -enough for me. I'm going to turn it into a hotel." - -He relighted his cigar. - -"And now, just as I got her smoothed down, along comes this darned -tenement business. Say, Prince, for the love of Mike cut it out. If -those houses are as bad as you say they are, and the old lady finds out -that I own them, it'll be Katie bar the door for me. She wouldn't stand -for it for a moment. I guess I didn't treat you good, Prince, but let's -forget it. Ease up on this rough stuff. I'll do anything you want." - -Betty spoke. - -"We only want you to make the houses fit to live in," she said. "I -don't believe you know what they're like." - -"Why, no. I left Parker in charge. It was up to him to do what was -wanted. Say, Prince, I want to talk to you about that guy, Parker. I -understand he's been rather rough with you and your crowd. That wasn't -my doing. I didn't know anything about it till he told me. It's the -darned Wild West strain in him coming out. He used to do those sort of -things out there, and he's forgotten his manners. I pay him well, and I -guess he thinks that's the way it's up to him to earn it. You mustn't -mind Parker." - -"Oh, well! So long as he means well--!" said John. "I've no grudge -against Parker. I've settled with him." - -"Well, then, what about this Broster Street thing? You want me to fix -some improvements, is that it?" - -"That's it." - -"Why, say, I'll do that. Sure. And then you'll quit handing out the -newspaper stories? That goes. I'll start right in." - -He rose. - -"That's taken a heap off my mind," he said. - -"There's just one other thing," said John. "Have you by any chance such -a thing as a stepfather's blessing on you?" - -"Eh?" - -John took Betty's hand. - -"We've come round to your views, Mr. Scobell," he said. "That scheme of -yours for our future looks good to us." - -Mr. Scobell bit through his cigar in his emotion. - -"Now, why the Heck," he moaned, "couldn't you have had the sense to do -that before, and save all this trouble?" - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -CONCLUSION - - -Smith drew thoughtfully at his cigar, and shifted himself more -comfortably into his chair. It was long since he had visited the West, -and he had found all the old magic in the still, scented darkness of -the prairie night. He gave a little sigh of content. When John, a year -before, had announced his intention of buying this ranch, and, as it -seemed to Smith, burying himself alive a thousand miles from anywhere, -he had disapproved. He had pointed out that John was not doing what -Fate expected of him. A miracle, in the shape of a six-figure wedding -present from Mrs. Oakley, who had never been known before, in the -memory of man, to give away a millionth of that sum, had happened to -him. Fate, argued Smith, plainly intended him to stay in New York and -spend his money in a civilized way. - -John had had only one reply, but it was clinching. - -"Betty likes the idea," he said, and Smith ceased to argue. - -Now, as he sat smoking on the porch on the first night of his inaugural -visit to the ranch, a conviction was creeping over him that John had -chosen wisely. - -A door opened behind him. Betty came out on to the porch, and dropped -into a chair close to where John's cigar glowed redly in the darkness. -They sat there without speaking. The stirring of unseen cattle in the -corral made a soothing accompaniment to thought. - -"It is very pleasant for an old jail bird like myself," said Smith at -last, "to sit here at my ease. I wish all our absent friends could be -with us to-night. Or perhaps not quite all. Let us say, Comrade Parker -here, Comrades Brady and Maloney over there by you, and our old friend -Renshaw sharing the floor with B. Henderson Asher, Bat Jarvis, and the -cats. By the way, I was round at Broster Street before I left New York. -There is certainly an improvement. Millionaires now stop there instead -of going on to the Plaza. Are you asleep, John?" - -"No." - -"Excellent. I also saw Comrade Brady before I left. He has definitely -got on his match with Jimmy Garvin." - -"Good. He'll win." - -"The papers seem to think so. _Peaceful Moments_, however, I am -sorry to say, is silent on the subject. It was not like this in the -good old days. How is the paper going now, John? Are the receipts -satisfactory?" - -"Pretty fair. Renshaw is rather a marvel in his way. He seems to have -roped in nearly all the old subscribers. They eat out of his hand." - -Smith stretched himself. - -"These," he said, "are the moments in life to which we look back with -that wistful pleasure. This peaceful scene, John, will remain with me -when I have forgotten that such a man as Spider Reilly ever existed. -These are the real Peaceful Moments." - -He closed his eyes. The cigar dropped from his fingers. There was a -long silence. - -"Mr. Smith," said Betty. - -There was no answer. - -"He's asleep," said John. "He had a long journey to-day." - -Betty drew her chair closer. From somewhere out in the darkness, from -the direction of the men's quarters, came the soft tinkle of a guitar -and a voice droning a Mexican love-song. - -Her hand stole out and found his. They began to talk in whispers. - - - - -THE END - - - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prince and Betty, by P. G. 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Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. - -This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project -Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a -donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!**** - - -Title: The Prince and Betty -(American edition) - -Author: P. G. Wodehouse - -Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6955] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on February 17, 2003] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCE AND BETTY *** - - - - -Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team - - - - - - - - - - -THE PRINCE AND BETTY - - - - - -by P. G. WODEHOUSE - -[American edition] -1912 - - - - -CONTENTS - - -CHAPTER - -I THE CABLE FROM MERVO - -II MERVO AND ITS OWNER - -III JOHN - -IV VIVE LE ROI - -V MR. SCOBELL HAS ANOTHER IDEA - -VI YOUNG ADAM CUPID - -VII MR. SCOBELL IS FRANK - -VIII AN ULTIMATUM FROM THE THRONE - -IX MERVO CHANGES ITS CONSTITUTION - -X MRS. OAKLEY - -XI A LETTER OP INTRODUCTION - -XII "PEACEFUL MOMENTS" - -XIII BETTY MAKES A FRIEND - -XIV A CHANGE OF POLICY - -XV THE HONEYED WORD - -XVI TWO VISITORS TO THE OFFICE - -XVII THE MAN AT THE ASTOR - -XVIII THE HIGHFIELD - -XIX THE FIRST BATTLE - -XX BETTY AT LARGE - -XXI CHANGES IN THE STAFF - -XXII A GATHERING OF CAT SPECIALISTS - -XXIII THE RETIREMENT OF SMITH - -XXIV THE CAMPAIGN QUICKENS - -XXV CORNERED - -XXVI JOURNEY'S END - -XXVII A LEMON - -XXVIII THE FINAL ATTEMPT - -XXIX A REPRESENTATIVE GATHERING - -XXX CONCLUSION - - - - -THE PRINCE AND BETTY - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE CABLE PROM MERVO - - -A pretty girl in a blue dress came out of the house, and began to walk -slowly across the terrace to where Elsa Keith sat with Marvin Rossiter -in the shade of the big sycamore. Elsa and Marvin had become engaged -some few days before, and were generally to be found at this time -sitting together in some shaded spot in the grounds of the Keith's Long -Island home. - -"What's troubling Betty, I wonder," said Elsa. "She looks worried." - -Marvin turned his head. - -"Is that your friend, Miss Silver?" - -"That's Betty. We were at college together. I want you to like Betty." - -"Then I will. When did she arrive?" - -"Last night. She's here for a month. What's the matter, Betty? This is -Marvin. I want you to like Marvin." - -Betty Silver smiled. Her face, in repose, was rather wistful, but it -lighted up when she smiled, and an unsuspected dimple came into being -on her chin. - -"Of course I shall," she said. - -Her big gray eyes seemed to search Marvin's for an instant and Marvin -had, almost subconsciously, a comfortable feeling that he had been -tested and found worthy. - -"What were you scowling at so ferociously, Betty?" asked Elsa. - -"Was I scowling? I hope you didn't think it was at you. Oh, Elsa, I'm -miserable! I shall have to leave this heavenly place." - -"Betty!" - -"At once. And I was meaning to have the most lovely time. See what has -come!" - -She held out some flimsy sheets of paper. - -"A cable!" said Elsa. - -"Great Scott! it looks like the scenario of a four-act play," said -Marvin. "That's not all one cable, surely? Whoever sent it must be a -millionaire." - -"He is. It's from my stepfather. Read it out, Elsa. I want Mr. Rossiter -to hear it. He may be able to tell me where Mervo is. Did you ever hear -of Mervo, Mr. Rossiter?" - -"Never. What is it?" - -"It's a place where my stepfather is, and where I've got to go. I do -call it hard. Go on, Elsa." - -Elsa, who had been skimming the document with raised eyebrows, now read -it out in its spacious entirety. - - _On receipt of this come instantly Mervo without moment - delay vital importance presence urgently required come - wherever you are cancel engagements urgent necessity hustle - have advised bank allow you draw any money you need expenses - have booked stateroom Mauretania sailing Wednesday don't fail - catch arrive Fishguard Monday train London sleep London catch - first train Tuesday Dover now mind first train no taking root - in London and spending a week shopping mid-day boat Dover - Calais arrive Paris Tuesday evening Dine Paris catch train de - luxe nine-fifteen Tuesday night for Marseilles have engaged - sleeping coupe now mind Tuesday night no cutting loose around - Paris stores you can do all that later on just now you want to - get here right quick arrive Marseilles Wednesday morning boat - Mervo Wednesday night will meet you Mervo now do you follow - all that because if not cable at once and say which part of - journey you don't understand now mind special points to be - remembered firstly come instantly secondly no cutting loose - around London Paris stores see._ - - _SCOBELL._ - -"_Well!_" said Elsa, breathless. - -"By George!" said Marvin. "He certainly seems to want you badly enough. -He hasn't spared expense. He has put in about everything you could put -into a cable." - -"Except why he wants me," said Betty. - -"Yes," said Elsa. "Why does he want you? And in such a desperate hurry, -too!" - -Marvin was re-reading the message. - -"It isn't a mere invitation," he said. "There's no -come-right-along-you'll-like-this-place-it's-fine about it. He seems to -look on your company more as a necessity than a luxury. It's a sort of -imperious C.Q.D." - -"That's what makes it so strange. We have hardly met for years. Why, he -didn't even know where I was. The cable was sent to the bank and -forwarded on. And I don't know where he is!" - -"Which brings us back," said Marvin, "to mysterious Mervo. Let us -reason inductively. If you get to the place by taking a boat from -Marseilles, it can't be far from the French coast. I should say at a -venture that Mervo is an island in the Mediterranean. And a small -island for if it had been a big one we should have heard of it." - -"Marvin!" cried Elsa, her face beaming with proud affection. "How -clever you are!" - -"A mere gift," he said modestly. "I have been like that from a boy." He -got up from his chair. "Isn't there an encyclopaedia in the library, -Elsa?" - -"Yes, but it's an old edition." - -"It will probably touch on Mervo. I'll go and fetch it." - -As he crossed the terrace, Elsa turned quickly to Betty. - -"Well?" she said. - -Betty smiled at her. - -"He's a dear. Are you very happy, Elsa?" - -Elsa's eyes danced. She drew in her breath softly. Betty looked at her -in silence for a moment. The wistful expression was back on her face. - -"Elsa," she said, suddenly. "What is it like? How does it feel, knowing -that there's someone who is fonder of you than anything--?" - -Elsa closed her eyes. - -"It's like eating berries and cream in a new dress by moonlight on a -summer night while somebody plays the violin far away in the distance -so that you can just hear it," she said. - -Her eyes opened again. - -"And it's like coming along on a winter evening and seeing the windows -lit up and knowing you've reached home." - -Betty was clenching her hands, and breathing quickly. - -"And it's like--" - -"Elsa, don't! I can't bear it!" - -"Betty! What's the matter?" - -Betty smiled again, but painfully. - -"It's stupid of me. I'm just jealous, that's all. I haven't got a -Marvin, you see. You have." - -"Well, there are plenty who would like to be your Marvin." - -Betty's face grew cold. - -"There are plenty who would like to be Benjamin Scobell's son-in-law," -she said. - -"Betty!" Elsa's voice was serious. "We've been friends for a good long -time, so you'll let me say something, won't you? I think you're getting -just the least bit hard. Now turn and rend me," she added -good-humoredly. - -"I'm not going to rend you," said Betty. "You're perfectly right. I am -getting hard. How can I help it? Do you know how many men have asked me -to marry them since I saw you last? Five." - -"Betty!" - -"And not one of them cared the slightest bit about me." - -"But, Betty, dear, that's just what I mean. Why should you say that? -How can you know?" - -"How do I know? Well, I do know. Instinct, I suppose. The instinct of -self-preservation which nature gives hunted animals. I can't think of a -single man in the world--except your Marvin, of course--who wouldn't -do anything for money." She stopped. "Well, yes, one." - -Elsa leaned forward eagerly. - -"Who, Betty?" - -"You don't know him." - -"But what's his name?" - -Betty hesitated. - -"Well, if I am on the witness-stand--Maude." - -"Maude? I thought you said a man?" - -"It's his name. John Maude." - -"But, Betty! Why didn't you tell me before? This is tremendously -interesting." - -Betty laughed shortly. - -"Not so very, really. I only met him two or three times, and I haven't -seen him for years, and I don't suppose I shall ever see him again. He -was a friend of Alice Beecher's brother, who was at Harvard. Alice took -me over to meet her brother, and Mr. Maude was there. That's all." - -Elsa was plainly disappointed. - -"But how do you know, then--? What makes you think that he--?" - -"Instinct, again, I suppose. I do know." - -"And you've never met him since?" - -Betty shook her head. Elsa relapsed into silence. She had a sense of -pathos. - -At the further end of the terrace Marvin Rossiter appeared, carrying a -large volume. - -"Here we are," he said. "Scared it up at the first attempt. Now then." - -He sat down, and opened the book. - -"You don't want to hear all about how Jason went there in search of the -Golden Fleece, and how Ulysses is supposed to have taken it in on his -round-trip? You want something more modern. Well, it's an island in the -Mediterranean, as I said, and I'm surprised that you've never heard of -it, Elsa, because it's celebrated in its way. It's the smallest -independent state in the world. Smaller than Monaco, even. Here are -some facts. Its population when this encyclopaedia was printed--there -may be more now--was eleven thousand and sixteen. It was ruled over up -to 1886 by a prince. But in that year the populace appear to have said -to themselves, 'When in the course of human events....' Anyway, they -fired the prince, and the place is now a republic. So that's where -you're going, Miss Silver. I don't know if it's any consolation to you, -but the island, according to this gentleman, is celebrated for the -unspoilt beauty of its scenery. He also gives a list of the fish that -can be caught there. It takes up about three lines." - -"But what can my stepfather be doing there? I last heard of him in -London. Well, I suppose I shall have to go." - -"I suppose you will," said Elsa mournfully. "But, oh, Betty, what a -shame!" - - - - -CHAPTER II - -MERVO AND ITS OWNER - - -"By heck!" cried Mr. Benjamin Scobell. - -He wheeled round from the window, and transferred his gaze from the -view to his sister Marion; losing by the action, for the view was a joy -to the eye, which his sister Marion was not. - -Mervo was looking its best under the hot morning sun. Mr. Scobell's -villa stood near the summit of the only hill the island possessed, and -from the window of the morning-room, where he had just finished -breakfast, he had an uninterrupted view of valley, town, and harbor--a -two-mile riot of green, gold and white, and beyond the white the blue -satin of the Mediterranean. Mr. Scobell did not read poetry except that -which advertised certain breakfast foods in which he was interested, or -he might have been reminded of the Island of Flowers in Tennyson's -"Voyage of Maeldive." Violets, pinks, crocuses, yellow and purple -mesembryanthemum, lavender, myrtle, and rosemary ... his two-mile view -contained them all. The hillside below him was all aglow with the -yellow fire of the mimosa. But his was not one of those emotional -natures to which the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that -do often lie too deep for tears. A primrose by the river's brim a -simple primrose was to him--or not so much a simple primrose, perhaps, -as a basis for a possible Primrosina, the Soap that Really Cleans You. - -He was a nasty little man to hold despotic sway over such a Paradise: a -goblin in Fairyland. Somewhat below the middle height, he was lean of -body and vulturine of face. He had a greedy mouth, a hooked nose, -liquid green eyes and a sallow complexion. He was rarely seen without a -half-smoked cigar between his lips. This at intervals he would relight, -only to allow it to go out again; and when, after numerous fresh -starts, it had dwindled beyond the limits of convenience, he would -substitute another from the reserve supply that protruded from his -vest-pocket. - - * * * * * - -How Benjamin Scobell had discovered the existence of Mervo is not -known. It lay well outside the sphere of the ordinary financier. But -Mr. Scobell took a pride in the versatility of his finance. It -distinguished him from the uninspired who were content to concentrate -themselves on steel, wheat and such-like things. It was Mr. Scobell's -way to consider nothing as lying outside his sphere. In a financial -sense he might have taken Terence's _Nihil humanum alienum_ as his -motto. He was interested in innumerable enterprises, great and small. -He was the power behind a company which was endeavoring, without much -success, to extract gold from the mountains of North Wales, and another -which was trying, without any success at all, to do the same by sea -water. He owned a model farm in Indiana, and a weekly paper in New -York. He had financed patent medicines, patent foods, patent corks, -patent corkscrews, patent devices of all kinds, some profitable, some -the reverse. - -Also--outside the ordinary gains of finance--he had expectations. He -was the only male relative of his aunt, the celebrated Mrs. Jane -Oakley, who lived in a cottage on Staten Island, and was reputed to -spend five hundred dollars a year--some said less--out of her snug -income of eighteen million. She was an unusual old lady in many ways, -and, unfortunately, unusually full of deep-rooted prejudices. The fear -lest he might inadvertently fall foul of these rarely ceased to haunt -Mr. Scobell. - -This man of many projects had descended upon Mervo like a stone on the -surface of some quiet pool, bubbling over with modern enterprise in -general and, in particular, with a scheme. Before his arrival, Mervo -had been an island of dreams and slow movement and putting things off -till to-morrow. The only really energetic thing it had ever done in its -whole history had been to expel his late highness, Prince Charles, and -change itself into a republic. And even that had been done with the -minimum of fuss. The Prince was away at the time. Indeed, he had been -away for nearly three years, the pleasures of Paris, London and Vienna -appealing to him more keenly than life among his subjects. Mervo, -having thought the matter over during these years, decided that it had -no further use for Prince Charles. Quite quietly, with none of that -vulgar brawling which its neighbor, France, had found necessary in -similar circumstances, it had struck his name off the pay-roll, and -declared itself a republic. The royalist party, headed by General -Poineau, had been distracted but impotent. The army, one hundred and -fifteen strong, had gone solid for the new regime, and that had settled -it. Mervo had then gone to sleep again. It was asleep when Mr. Scobell -found it. - -The financier's scheme was first revealed to M. d'Orby, the President -of the Republic, a large, stout statesman with even more than the -average Mervian instinct for slumber. He was asleep in a chair on the -porch of his villa when Mr. Scobell paid his call, and it was not until -the financier's secretary, who attended the seance in the capacity of -interpreter, had rocked him vigorously from side to side for quite a -minute that he displayed any signs of animation beyond a snore like the -growling of distant thunder. When at length he opened his eyes, he -perceived the nightmare-like form of Mr. Scobell standing before him, -talking. The financier, impatient of delay, had begun to talk some -moments before the great awakening. - -"Sir," Mr. Scobell was saying, "I gotta proposition to which I'd like -you to give your complete attention. Shake him some more, Crump. Sir, -there's big money in it for all of us, if you and your crowd'll sit in. -Money. _Lar' monnay_. No, that means change. What's money, Crump? -_Arjong_? There's _arjong_ in it, Squire. Get that? Oh, shucks! -Hand it to him in French, Crump." - -Mr. Secretary Crump translated. The President blinked, and intimated -that he would hear more. Mr. Scobell relighted his cigar-stump, and -proceeded. - -"Say, you've heard of _Moosieer_ Blonk? Ask the old skeesicks if -he's ever heard of _Mersyaw_ Blonk, Crump, the feller who started -the gaming-tables at Monte Carlo." - -Filtered through Mr. Crump, the question became intelligible to the -President. He said he had heard of M. Blanc. Mr. Crump caught the reply -and sent it on to Mr. Scobell, as the man on first base catches the -ball and throws it to second. - -Mr. Scobell relighted his cigar. - -"Well, I'm in that line. I'm going to put this island on the map just -like old Doctor Blonk put Monte Carlo. I've been studying up all about -the old man, and I know just what he did and how he did it. Monte Carlo -was just such another jerkwater little place as this is before he hit -it. The government was down to its last bean and wondering where the -Heck its next meal-ticket was coming from, when in blows Mr. Man, tucks -up his shirt-sleeves, and starts the tables. And after that the place -never looked back. You and your crowd gotta get together and pass a -vote to give me a gambling concession here, same as they did him. -Scobell's my name. Hand him that, Crump." - -Mr. Crump obliged once more. A gleam of intelligence came into the -President's dull eye. He nodded once or twice. He talked volubly in -French to Mr. Crump, who responded in the same tongue. - -"The idea seems to strike him, sir," said Mr. Crump. - -"It ought to, if he isn't a clam," replied Mr. Scobell. He started to -relight his cigar, but after scorching the tip of his nose, bowed to -the inevitable and threw the relic away. - -"See here," he said, having bitten the end off the next in order; "I've -thought this thing out from soup to nuts. There's heaps of room for -another Monte Carlo. Monte's a dandy place, but it's not perfect by a -long way. To start with, it's hilly. You have to take the elevator to -get to the Casino, and when you've gotten to the end of your roll and -want to soak your pearl pin, where's the hock-shop? Half a mile away up -the side of a mountain. It ain't right. In my Casino there's going to -be a resident pawnbroker inside the building, just off the main -entrance. That's only one of a heap of improvements. Another is that my -Casino's scheduled to be a home from home, a place you can be real cosy -in. You'll look around you, and the only thing you'll miss will be -mother's face. Yes, sir, there's no need for a gambling Casino to look -and feel and smell like the reading-room at the British Museum. -Comfort, coziness and convenience. That's the ticket I'm running on. -Slip that to the old gink, Crump." - -A further outburst of the French language from Mr. Crump, supplemented -on the part of the "old gink" by gesticulations, interrupted the -proceedings. - -"What's he saying now?" asked Mr. Scobell. - -"He wants to know--" - -"Don't tell. Let me guess. He wants to know what sort of a rake-off he -and the other somnambulists will get--the darned old pirate! Is that -it?" - -Mr. Crump said that that was just it. - -"That'll be all right," said Mr. Scobell. "Old man Blong's offer to the -Prince of Monaco was five hundred thousand francs a year--that's -somewhere around a hundred thousand dollars in real money--and half the -profits made by the Casino. That's my offer, too. See how that hits -him, Crump." - -Mr. Crump investigated. - -"He says he accepts gladly, on behalf of the Republic, sir," he -announced. - -M. d'Orby confirmed the statement by rising, dodging the cigar, and -kissing Mr. Scobell on both cheeks. - -"Cut it out," said the financier austerely, breaking out of the clinch. -"We'll take the Apache Dance as read. Good-by, Squire. Glad it's -settled. Now I can get busy." - -He did. Workmen poured into Mervo, and in a very short time, dominating -the town and reducing to insignificance the palace of the late Prince, -once a passably imposing mansion, there rose beside the harbor a -mammoth Casino of shining stone. - -Imposing as was the exterior, it was on the interior that Mr. Scobell -more particularly prided himself, and not without reason. Certainly, a -man with money to lose could lose it here under the most charming -conditions. It had been Mr. Scobell's object to avoid the cheerless -grandeur of the rival institution down the coast. Instead of one large -hall sprinkled with tables, each table had a room to itself, separated -from its neighbor by sound-proof folding-doors. And as the building -progressed, Mr. Scobell's active mind had soared above the original -idea of domestic coziness to far greater heights of ingenuity. Each of -the rooms was furnished and arranged in a different style. The note of -individuality extended even to the _croupiers_. Thus, a man with -money at his command could wander from the Dutch room, where, in the -picturesque surroundings of a Dutch kitchen, _croupiers_ in the -costume of Holland ministered to his needs, to the Japanese room, where -his coin would be raked in by quite passable imitations of the Samurai. -If he had any left at this point, he was free to dispose of it under -the auspices of near-Hindoos in the Indian room, of merry Swiss -peasants in the Swiss room, or in other appropriately furnished -apartments of red-shirted, Bret Harte miners, fur-clad Esquimaux, or -languorous Spaniards. He could then, if a man of spirit, who did not -know when he was beaten, collect the family jewels, and proceed down -the main hall, accompanied by the strains of an excellent band, to the -office of a gentlemanly pawnbroker, who spoke seven languages like a -native and was prepared to advance money on reasonable security in all -of them. - -It was a colossal venture, but it suffered from the defect from which -most big things suffer; it moved slowly. That it also moved steadily -was to some extent a consolation to Mr. Scobell. Undoubtedly it would -progress quicker and quicker, as time went on, until at length the -Casino became a permanent gold mine. But at present it was being -conducted at a loss. It was inevitable, but it irked Mr. Scobell. He -paced the island and brooded. His mind dwelt incessantly on the -problem. Ideas for promoting the prosperity of his nursling came to him -at all hours--at meals, in the night watches, when he was shaving, -walking, washing, reading, brushing his hair. - -And now one had come to him as he stood looking at the view from the -window of his morning-room, listening absently to his sister Marion as -she read stray items of interest from the columns of the _New York -Herald_, and had caused him to utter the exclamation recorded at the -beginning of the chapter. - - * * * * * - -"By Heck!" he said. "Read that again, Marion. I gottan idea." - -Miss Scobell, deep in her paper, paid no attention. Few people would -have taken her for the sister of the financier. She was his exact -opposite in almost every way. He was small, jerky and aggressive; she, -tall, deliberate and negative. She was one of those women whom nature -seems to have produced with the object of attaching them to some man in -a peculiar position of independent dependence, and who defy the -imagination to picture them in any other condition whatsoever. One -could not see Miss Scobell doing anything but pour out her brother's -coffee, darn his socks, and sit placidly by while he talked. Yet it -would have been untrue to describe her as dependent upon him. She had a -detached mind. Though her whole life had been devoted to his comfort -and though she admired him intensely, she never appeared to give his -conversation any real attention. She listened to him much as she would -have listened to a barking Pomeranian. - -"Marion!" cried Mr. Scobell. - -"A five-legged rabbit has been born in Carbondale, Southern Illinois," -she announced. - -Mr. Scobell cursed the five-legged rabbit. - -"Never mind about your rabbits. I want to hear that piece you read -before. The one about the Prince of Monaco. Will--you--listen, Marion!" - -"The Prince of Monaco, dear? Yes. He has caught another fish or -something of that sort, I think. Yes. A fish with 'telescope eyes,' the -paper says. And very convenient too, I should imagine." - -Mr. Scobell thumped the table. - -"I've got it. I've found out what's the matter with this darned place. -I see why the Casino hasn't struck its gait." - -"_I_ think it must be the _croupiers_, dear. I'm sure I never -heard of _croupiers_ in fancy costume before. It doesn't seem -right. I'm sure people don't like those nasty Hindoos. I am quite -nervous myself when I go into the Indian room. They look at me so -oddly." - -"Nonsense! That's the whole idea of the place, that it should be -different. People are sick and tired of having their money gathered in -by seedy-looking Dagoes in second-hand morning coats. We give 'em -variety. It's not the Casino that's wrong: it's the darned island. -What's the use of a republic to a place like this? I'm not saying that -you don't want a republic for a live country that's got its way to make -in the world; but for a little runt of a sawn-off, hobo, one-night -stand like this you gotta have something picturesque, something that'll -advertise the place, something that'll give a jolt to folks' curiosity, -and make 'em talk! There's this Monaco gook. He snoops around in his -yacht, digging up telescope-eyed fish, and people talk about it. -'Another darned fish,' they say. 'That's the 'steenth bite the Prince of -Monaco has had this year.' It's like a soap advertisement. It works by -suggestion. They get to thinking about the Prince and his pop-eyed -fishes, and, first thing they know, they've packed their grips and come -along to Monaco to have a peek at him. And when they're there, it's a -safe bet they aren't going back again without trying to get a mess of -easy money from the Bank. That's what this place wants. Whoever heard -of this blamed Republic doing anything except eat and sleep? They used -to have a prince here 'way back in eighty-something. Well, I'm going to -have him working at the old stand again, right away." - -Miss Scobell looked up from her paper, which she had been reading with -absorbed interest throughout tins harangue. - -"Dear?" she said enquiringly. - -"I say I'm going to have him back again," said Mr. Scobell, a little -damped. "I wish you would listen." - -"I think you're quite right, dear. Who?" - -"The Prince. Do listen, Marion. The Prince of this island, His -Highness, the Prince of Mervo. I'm going to send for him and put him on -the throne again." - -"You can't, dear. He's dead." - -"I know he's dead. You can't faze me on the history of this place. He -died in ninety-one. But before he died he married an American girl, and -there's a son, who's in America now, living with his uncle. It's the -son I'm going to send for. I got it all from General Poineau. He's a -royalist. He'll be tickled to pieces when Johnny comes marching home -again. Old man Poineau told me all about it. The Prince married a girl -called Westley, and then he was killed in an automobile accident, and -his widow went back to America with the kid, to live with her brother. -Poineau says he could lay his hand on him any time he pleased." - -"I hope you won't do anything rash, dear," said his sister comfortably. -"I'm sure we don't want any horrid revolution here, with people -shooting and stabbing each other." - -"Revolution?" cried Mr. Scobell. "Revolution! Well, I should say nix! -Revolution nothing. I'm the man with the big stick in Mervo. Pretty -near every adult on this island is dependent on my Casino for his -weekly envelope, and what I say goes--without argument. I want a -prince, so I gotta have a prince, and if any gazook makes a noise like -a man with a grouch, he'll find himself fired." - -Miss Scobell turned to her paper again. - -"Very well, dear," she said. "Just as you please. I'm sure you know -best." - -"Sure!" said her brother. "You're a good guesser. I'll go and beat up -old man Poineau right away." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -JOHN - - -Ten days after Mr. Scobell's visit to General Poineau, John, Prince of -Mervo, ignorant of the greatness so soon to be thrust upon him, was -strolling thoughtfully along one of the main thoroughfares of that -outpost of civilization, Jersey City. He was a big young man, tall and -large of limb. His shoulders especially were of the massive type -expressly designed by nature for driving wide gaps in the opposing line -on the gridiron. He looked like one of nature's center-rushes, and had, -indeed, played in that position for Harvard during two strenuous -seasons. His face wore an expression of invincible good-humor. He had a -wide, good-natured mouth, and a pair of friendly gray eyes. One felt -that he liked his follow men and would be surprised and pained if they -did not like him. - -As he passed along the street, he looked a little anxious. Sherlock -Holmes--and possibly even Doctor Watson--would have deduced that he had -something on his conscience. - -At the entrance to a large office building, he paused, and seemed to -hesitate. Then, as if he had made up his mind to face an ordeal, he -went in and pressed the button of the elevator. - -Leaving the elevator at the third floor, he went down the passage, and -pushed open a door on which was inscribed the legend, "Westley, Martin -& Co." - -A stout youth, walking across the office with his hands full of papers, -stopped in astonishment. - -"Hello, John Maude!" he cried. - -The young man grinned. - -"Say, where have you been? The old man's been as mad as a hornet since -he found you had quit without leave. He was asking for you just now." - -"I guess I'm up against it," admitted John cheerfully. - -"Where did you go yesterday?" - -John put the thing to him candidly, as man to man. - -"See here, Spiller, suppose you got up one day and found it was a -perfectly bully morning, and remembered that the Giants were playing -the Athletics, and looked at your mail, and saw that someone had sent -you a pass for the game--" - -"Were you at the ball-game? You've got the nerve! Didn't you know there -would be trouble?" - -"Old man," said John frankly, "I could no more have turned down that -pass-- Oh, well, what's the use? It was just great. I suppose I'd -better tackle the boss now. It's got to be done." - -It was not a task to which many would have looked forward. Most of -those who came into contact with Andrew Westley were afraid of him. He -was a capable rather than a lovable man, and too self-controlled to be -quite human. There was no recoil in him, no reaction after anger, as -there would have been in a hotter-tempered man. He thought before he -acted, but, when he acted, never yielded a step. - -John, in all the years of their connection, had never been able to make -anything of him. At first, he had been prepared to like him, as he -liked nearly everybody. But Mr. Westley had discouraged all advances, -and, as time went by, his nephew had come to look on him as something -apart from the rest of the world, one of those things which no fellow -could understand. - -On Mr. Westley's side, there was something to be said in extenuation of -his attitude. John reminded him of his father, and he had hated the -late Prince of Mervo with a cold hatred that had for a time been the -ruling passion of his life. He had loved his sister, and her married -life had been one long torture to him, a torture rendered keener by the -fact that he was powerless to protect either her happiness or her -money. Her money was her own, to use as she pleased, and the use which -pleased her most was to give it to her husband, who could always find a -way of spending it. As to her happiness, that was equally out of his -control. It was bound up in her Prince, who, unfortunately, was a bad -custodian for it. At last, an automobile accident put an end to His -Highness's hectic career (and, incidentally, to that of a blonde lady -from the _Folies Bergeres_), and the Princess had returned to her -brother's home, where, a year later, she died, leaving him in charge of -her infant son. - -Mr. Westley's desire from the first had been to eliminate as far as -possible all memory of the late Prince. He gave John his sister's name, -Maude, and brought him up as an American, in total ignorance of his -father's identity. During all the years they had spent together, he had -never mentioned the Prince's name. - -He disliked John intensely. He fed him, clothed him, sent him to -college, and gave him a place in his office, but he never for a moment -relaxed his bleakness of front toward him. John was not unlike his -father in appearance, though built on a larger scale, and, as time went -on, little mannerisms, too, began to show themselves, that reminded Mr. -Westley of the dead man, and killed any beginnings of affection. - -John, for his part, had the philosophy which goes with perfect health. -He fitted his uncle into the scheme of things, or, rather, set him -outside them as an irreconcilable element, and went on his way enjoying -life in his own good-humored fashion. - -It was only lately, since he had joined the firm, that he had been -conscious of any great strain. College had given him a glimpse of a -larger life, and the office cramped him. He felt vaguely that there -were bigger things in the world which he might be doing. His best -friends, of whom he now saw little, were all men of adventure and -enterprise, who had tried their hand at many things; men like Jimmy -Pitt, who had done nearly everything that could be done before coming -into an unexpected half-million; men like Rupert Smith, who had been at -Harvard with him and was now a reporter on the _News_; men like -Baker, Faraday, Williams--he could name half-a-dozen, all men who were -_doing_ something, who were out on the firing line. - -He was not a man who worried. He had not that temperament. But -sometimes he would wonder in rather a vague way whether he was not -allowing life to slip by him a little too placidly. An occasional -yearning for something larger would attack him. There seemed to be -something in him that made for inaction. His soul was sleepy. - -If he had been told of the identity of his father, it is possible that -he might have understood. The Princes of Mervo had never taken readily -to action and enterprise. For generations back, if they had varied at -all, son from father, it had been in the color of hair or eyes, not in -character--a weak, shiftless procession, with nothing to distinguish -them from the common run of men except good looks and a talent for -wasting money. - -John was the first of the line who had in him the seeds of better -things. The Westley blood and the bracing nature of his education had -done much to counteract the Mervo strain. He did not know it, but the -American in him was winning. The desire for action was growing steadily -every day. - -It had been Mervo that had sent him to the polo grounds on the previous -day. That impulse had been purely Mervian. No prince of that island had -ever resisted a temptation. But it was America that was sending him now -to meet his uncle with a quiet unconcern as to the outcome of the -interview. The spirit of adventure was in him. It was more than -possible that Mr. Westley would sink the uncle in the employer and -dismiss him as summarily as he would have dismissed any other clerk in -similar circumstances. If so, he was prepared to welcome dismissal. -Other men fought an unsheltered fight with the world, so why not he? - -He moved towards the door of the inner office with a certain -exhilaration. - -As he approached, it flew open, disclosing Mr. Westley himself, a tall, -thin man, at the sight of whom Spiller shot into his seat like a -rabbit. - -John went to meet him. - -"Ah," said Mr. Westley; "come in here. I want to speak to you." - -John followed him into the room. - -"Sit down," said his uncle. - -John waited while he dictated a letter. Neither spoke till the -stenographer had left the room. John met the girl's eye as she passed. -There was a compassionate look in it. John was popular with his fellow -employes. His absence had been the cause of discussion and speculation -among them, and the general verdict had been that there would be -troublous times for him on the morrow. - -When the door closed, Mr. Westley leaned back in his chair, and -regarded his nephew steadily from under a pair of bushy gray eyebrows -which lent a sort of hypnotic keenness to his gaze. - -"You were at the ball-game yesterday?" he said. - -The unexpectedness of the question startled John into a sharp laugh. - -"Yes," he said, recovering himself. - -"Without leave." - -"It didn't seem worth while asking for leave." - -"You mean that you relied so implicitly on our relationship to save you -from the consequences?" - -"No, I meant--" - -"Well, we need not try and discover what you may have meant. What claim -do you put forward for special consideration? Why should I treat you -differently from any other member of the staff?" - -John had a feeling that the interview was being taken at too rapid a -pace. He felt confused. - -"I don't want you to treat me differently," he said. - -Mr. Westley did not reply. John saw that he had taken a check-book from -its pigeonhole. - -"I think we understand each other," said Mr. Westley. "There is no need -for any discussion. I am writing you a check for ten thousand -dollars--" - -"Ten thousand dollars!" - -"It happens to be your own. It was left to me in trust for you by your -mother. By a miracle your father did not happen to spend it." - -John caught the bitter note which the other could not keep out of his -voice, and made one last attempt to probe this mystery. As a boy he had -tried more than once before he realized that this was a forbidden -topic. - -"Who was my father?" he said. - -Mr. Westley blotted the check carefully. - -"Quite the worst blackguard I ever had the misfortune to know," he -replied in an even tone. "Will you kindly give me a receipt for this? -Then I need not detain you. You may return to the ball-game without any -further delay. Possibly," he went on, "you may wonder why you have not -received this money before. I persuaded your mother to let me use my -discretion in choosing the time when it should be handed over to you. I -decided to wait until, in my opinion, you had sense enough to use it -properly. I do not think that time has arrived. I do not think it will -ever arrive. But as we are parting company and shall, I hope, never -meet again, you had better have it now." - -John signed the receipt in silence. - -"Thank you," said Mr. Westley. "Good-by." - -At the door John hesitated. He had looked forward to this moment as one -of excitement and adventure, but now that it had come it had left him -in anything but an uplifted mood. He was naturally warm-hearted, and -his uncle's cold anger hurt him. It was so different from anything -sudden, so essentially not of the moment. He felt instinctively that it -had been smoldering for a long time, and realized with a shock that his -uncle had not been merely indifferent to him all these years, but had -actually hated him. It was as if he had caught a glimpse of something -ugly. He felt that this was the last scene of some long drawn-out -tragedy. - -Something made him turn impulsively back towards the desk. - -"Uncle--" he cried. - -He stopped. The hopelessness of attempting any step towards a better -understanding overwhelmed him. Mr. Westley had begun to write. He must -have seen John's movement, but he continued to write as if he were -alone in the room. - -John turned to the door again. - -"Good-by," he said. - -Mr. Westley did not look up. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -VIVE LE ROI! - - -When, an hour later, John landed in New York from the ferry, his mood -had changed. The sun and the breeze had done their work. He looked on -life once more with a cheerful and optimistic eye. - -His first act, on landing, was to proceed to the office of the -_News_ and enquire for Rupert Smith. He felt that he had urgent -need of a few minutes' conversation with him. Now that the painter had -been definitely cut that bound him to the safe and conventional, and he -had set out on his own account to lead the life adventurous, he was -conscious of an absurd diffidence. New York looked different to him. It -made him feel positively shy. A pressing need for a friendly native in -this strange land manifested itself. Smith would have ideas and advice -to bestow--he was notoriously prolific of both--and in this crisis both -were highly necessary. - -Smith, however, was not at the office. He had gone out, John was -informed, earlier in the morning to cover a threatened strike somewhere -down on the East Side. John did not go in search of him. The chance of -finding him in that maze of mean streets was remote. He decided to go -uptown, select a hotel, and lunch. To the need for lunch he attributed -a certain sinking sensation of which he was becoming more and more -aware, and which bore much too close a resemblance to dismay to be -pleasant. The poet's statement that "the man who's square, his chances -always are best; no circumstance can shoot a scare into the contents of -his vest," is only true within limits. The squarest men, deposited -suddenly in New York and faced with the prospect of earning his living -there, is likely to quail for a moment. New York is not like other -cities. London greets the stranger with a sleepy grunt. Paris giggles. -New York howls. A gladiator, waiting in the center of the arena while -the Colosseum officials fumbled with the bolts of the door behind which -paced the noisy tiger he was to fight, must have had some of the -emotions which John experienced during his first hour as a masterless -man in Gotham. - -A surface car carried him up Broadway. At Times Square the Astor Hotel -loomed up on the left. It looked a pretty good hotel to John. He -dismounted. - -Half an hour later he decided that he was acclimated. He had secured a -base of operations in the shape of a room on the seventh floor, his -check was safely deposited in the hotel bank, and he was half-way -through a lunch which had caused him already to look on New York not -only as the finest city in the world, but also, on the whole, as the -one city of all others in which a young man might make a fortune with -the maximum of speed and the minimum of effort. - -After lunch, having telegraphed his address to his uncle in case of -mail, he took the latter's excellent advice and went to the polo -grounds. Returning in time to dress, he dined at the hotel, after which -he visited a near-by theater, and completed a pleasant and strenuous -day at one of those friendly restaurants where the music is continuous -and the waiters are apt to burst into song in the intervals of their -other duties. - -A second attempt to find Smith next morning failed, as the first had -done. The staff of the News were out of bed and at work ridiculously -early, and when John called up the office between eleven and twelve -o'clock--nature's breakfast-hour--Smith was again down East, observing -the movements of those who were about to strike or who had already -struck. - -It hardly seemed worth while starting to lay the bed plates of his -fortune till he had consulted the expert. What would Rockefeller have -done? He would, John felt certain, have gone to the ball-game. - -He imitated the great financier. - - * * * * * - -It was while he was smoking a cigar after dinner that night, musing on -the fortunes of the day's game and, in particular, on the almost -criminal imbecility of the umpire, that he was dreamily aware that he -was being "paged." A small boy in uniform was meandering through the -room, chanting his name. - -"Gent wants five minutes wit' you," announced the boy, intercepted. -"Hasn't got no card. Business, he says." - -This disposed of the idea that Rupert Smith had discovered his retreat. -John was puzzled. He could not think of another person in New York who -knew of his presence at the Astor. But it was the unknown that he was -in search of, and he decided to see the mysterious stranger. - -"Send him along," he said. - -The boy disappeared, and presently John observed him threading his way -back among the tables, followed by a young man of extraordinary gravity -of countenance, who was looking about him with an intent gaze through a -pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. - -John got up to meet him. - -"My name is Maude," he said. "Won't you sit down? Have you had dinner?" - -"Thank you, yes," said the spectacled young man. - -"You'll have a cigar and coffee, then?" - -"Thank you, yes." - -The young man remained silent until the waiter had filled his cup. - -"My name is Crump," he said. "I am Mr. Benjamin Scobell's private -secretary." - -"Yes?" said John. "Snug job?" - -The other seemed to miss something in his voice. - -"You have heard of Mr. Scobell?" he asked. - -"Not to my knowledge," said John. - -"Ah! you have lost touch very much with Mervo, of course." - -John stared. - -"Mervo?" - -It sounded like some patent medicine. - -"I have been instructed," said Mr. Crump solemnly, "to inform Your -Highness that the Republic has been dissolved, and that your subjects -offer you the throne of your ancestors." - -John leaned back in his chair, and looked at the speaker in dumb -amazement. The thought flashed across him that Mr. Crump had been -perfectly correct in saying that he had dined. - -His attitude appeared to astound Mr. Crump. He goggled through his -spectacles at John, who was reminded of some rare fish. - -"You are John Maude? You said you were." - -"I'm John Maude right enough. We're solid on that point." - -"And your mother was the only sister of Mr. Andrew Westley?" - -"You're right there, too." - -"Then there is no mistake. I say the Republic--" He paused, as if -struck with an idea. "Don't you know?" he said. "Your father--" - -John became suddenly interested. - -"If you've got anything to tell me about my father, go right ahead. -You'll be the only man I've ever met who has said a word about him. Who -the deuce was he, anyway?" - -Mr. Crump's face cleared. - -"I understand. I had not expected this. You have been kept in -ignorance. Your father, Mr. Maude, was the late Prince Charles of -Mervo." - -It was not easy to astonish John, but this announcement did so. He -dropped his cigar in a shower of gray ash on to his trousers, and -retrieved it almost mechanically, his wide-open eyes fixed on the -other's face. - -"What!" he cried. - -Mr. Crump nodded gravely. - -"You are Prince John of Mervo, and I am here--" he got into his stride -as he reached the familiar phrase--"to inform Your Highness that the -Republic has been dissolved, and that your subjects offer you the -throne of your ancestors." - -A horrid doubt seized John. - -"You're stringing me. One of those Indians at the _News_, Rupert -Smith, or someone, has put you up to this." - -Mr. Crump appeared wounded. - -"If Your Highness would glance at these documents-- This is a copy -of the register of the church in which your mother and father were -married." - -John glanced at the document. It was perfectly lucid. - -"Then--then it's true!" he said. - -"Perfectly true, Your Highness. And I am here to inform--" - -"But where the deuce is Mervo? I never heard of the place." - -"It is an island principality in the Mediterranean, Your High--" - -"For goodness' sake, old man, don't keep calling me 'Your Highness.' It -may be fun to you, but it makes me feel a perfect ass. Let me get into -the thing gradually." - -Mr. Crump felt in his pocket. - -"Mr. Scobell," he said, producing a roll of bills, "entrusted me with -money to defray any expenses--" - -More than any words, this spectacle removed any lingering doubt which -John might have had as to the possibility of this being some intricate -practical joke. - -"Are these for me?" he said. - -Mr. Crump passed them across to him. - -"There are a thousand dollars here," he said. "I am also instructed to -say that you are at liberty to draw further against Mr. Scobell's -account at the Wall Street office of the European and Asiatic Bank." - -The name Scobell had been recurring like a _leit-motif_ in Mr. -Crump's conversation. This suddenly came home to John. - -"Before we go any further," he said, "let's get one thing clear. Who is -this Mr. Scobell? How does he get mixed up in this?" - -"He is the proprietor of the Casino at Mervo." - -"He seems to be one of those generous, open-handed fellows. Nothing of -the tight wad about him." - -"He is deeply interested in Your High--in your return." - -John laid the roll of bills beside his coffee cup, and relighted his -cigar. - -"That's mighty good of him," he said. "It strikes me, old man, that I -am not absolutely up-to-date as regards the internal affairs of this -important little kingdom of mine. How would it be if you were to put me -next to one or two facts? Start at the beginning and go right on." - -When Mr. Crump had finished a condensed history of Mervo and Mervian -politics, John smoked in silence for some minutes. - -"Life, Crump," he said at last, "is certainly speeding up as far as I -am concerned. Up till now nothing in particular has ever happened to -me. A couple of days ago I lost my job, was given ten thousand dollars -that I didn't know existed, and now you tell me I'm a prince. Well, -well! These are stirring times. When do we start for the old -homestead?" - -"Mr. Scobell was exceedingly anxious that we should return by -Saturday's boat." - -"Saturday? What, to-morrow?" - -"Perhaps it is too soon. You will not be able to settle your affairs?" - -"I guess I can settle my affairs all right. I've only got to pack a -grip and tip the bell hops. And as Scobell seems to be financing this -show, perhaps it's up to me to step lively if he wants it. But it's a -pity. I was just beginning to like this place. There is generally -something doing along the White Way after twilight, Crump." - -The gravity of Mr. Scobell's secretary broke up unexpectedly into a -slow, wide smile. His eyes behind their glasses gleamed with a wistful -light. - -"Gee!" he murmured. - -John looked at him, amazed. - -"Crump," he cried. "Crump, I believe you're a sport!" - -Mr. Crump seemed completely to have forgotten his responsible position -as secretary to a millionaire and special messenger to a prince. He -smirked. - -"I'd have liked a day or two in the old burg," he said softly. "I -haven't been to Rector's since Ponto was a pup." - -John reached across the table and seized the secretary's hand. - -"Crump," he said, "you _are_ a sport. This is no time for delay. -If we are to liven up this great city, we must get busy right away. -Grab your hat, and come along. One doesn't become a prince every day. -The occasion wants celebrating. Are you with me, Crump, old scout?" - -"Sure thing," said the envoy ecstatically. - - * * * * * - -At eight o'clock on the following morning, two young men, hatless and a -little rumpled, but obviously cheerful, entered the Astor Hotel, -demanding breakfast. - -A bell boy who met them was addressed by the larger of the two, and -asked his name. - -"Desmond Ryan," he replied. - -The young man patted him on his shoulder. - -"I appoint you, Desmond Ryan," he said, "Grand Hereditary Bell Hop to -the Court of Mervo." - -Thus did Prince John formally enter into his kingdom. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -MR. SCOBELL HAS ANOTHER IDEA - - -Owing to collaboration between Fate and Mr. Scobell, John's state entry -into Mervo was an interesting blend between a pageant and a vaudeville -sketch. The pageant idea was Mr. Scobell's. Fate supplied the -vaudeville. - -The reception at the quay, when the little steamer that plied between -Marseilles and the island principality gave up its precious freight, -was not on quite so impressive a scale as might have been given to the -monarch of a more powerful kingdom; but John was not disappointed. -During the voyage from New York, in the intervals of seasickness--for -he was a poor sailor--Mr. Crump had supplied him with certain facts -about Mervo, one of which was that its adult population numbered just -under thirteen thousand, and this had prepared him for any shortcomings -in the way of popular demonstration. - -As a matter of fact, Mr. Scobell was exceedingly pleased with the scale -of the reception, which to his mind amounted practically to pomp. The -Palace Guard, forty strong, lined the quay. Besides these, there were -four officers, a band, and sixteen mounted carbineers. The rest of the -army was dotted along the streets. In addition to the military, there -was a gathering of a hundred and fifty civilians, mainly drawn from -fishing circles. The majority of these remained stolidly silent -throughout, but three, more emotional, cheered vigorously as a young -man was seen to step on to the gangway, carrying a grip, and make for -the shore. General Poineau, a white-haired warrior with a fierce -mustache, strode forward and saluted. The Palace Guards presented arms. -The band struck up the Mervian national anthem. General Poineau, -lowering his hand, put on a pair of _pince-nez_ and began to -unroll an address of welcome. - -It was then seen that the young man was Mr. Crump. General Poineau -removed his glasses and gave an impatient twirl to his mustache. Mr. -Scobell, who for possibly the first time in his career was not smoking -(though, as was afterward made manifest, he had the materials on his -person), bustled to the front. - -"Where's his nibs, Crump?" he enquired. - -The secretary's reply was swept away in a flood of melody. To the band -Mr. Crump's face was strange. They had no reason to suppose that he was -not Prince John, and they acted accordingly. With a rattle of drums -they burst once more into their spirited rendering of the national -anthem. - -Mr. Scobell sawed the air with his arms, but was powerless to dam the -flood. - -"His Highness is shaving, sir!" bawled Mr. Crump, depositing his grip -on the quay and making a trumpet of his hands. - -"Shaving!" - -"Yes, sir. I told him he ought to come along, but His Highness said he -wasn't going to land looking like a tramp comedian." - -By this time General Poineau had explained matters to the band and they -checked the national anthem abruptly in the middle of a bar, with the -exception of the cornet player, who continued gallantly by himself till -a feeling of loneliness brought the truth home to him. An awkward stage -wait followed, which lasted until John was seen crossing the deck, when -there were more cheers, and General Poineau, resuming his -_pince-nez_, brought out the address of welcome again. - -At this point Mr. Scobell made his presence felt. - -"Glad to meet you, Prince," he said, coming forward. "Scobell's my -name. Shake hands with General Poineau. No, that's wrong. I guess he -kisses your hand, don't he?" - -"I'll swing on him if he does," said John, cheerfully. - -Mr. Scobell eyed him doubtfully. His Highness did not appear to him to -be treating the inaugural ceremony with that reserved dignity which we -like to see in princes on these occasions. Mr. Scobell was a business -man. He wanted his money's worth. His idea of a Prince of Mervo was -something statuesquely aloof, something--he could not express it -exactly--on the lines of the illustrations in the Zenda stories in the -magazines--about eight feet high and shinily magnificent, something -that would give the place a tone. That was what he had had in his mind -when he sent for John. He did not want a cheerful young man in a soft -hat and a flannel suit who looked as if at any moment he might burst -into a college yell. - -General Poineau, meanwhile, had embarked on the address of welcome. -John regarded him thoughtfully. - -"I can see," he said to Mr. Scobell, "that the gentleman is making a -good speech, but what is he saying? That is what gets past me." - -"He is welcoming Your Highness," said Mr. Crump, the linguist, "in the -name of the people of Mervo." - -"Who, I notice, have had the bully good sense to stay in bed. I guess -they knew that the Boy Orator would do all that was necessary. He -hasn't said anything about a bite of breakfast, has he? Has his address -happened to work around to the subject of shredded wheat and shirred -eggs yet? That's the part that's going to make a hit with me." - -"There'll be breakfast at my villa, Your Highness," said Mr. Scobell. -"My automobile is waiting along there." - -The General reached his peroration, worked his way through it, and -finished with a military clash of heels and a salute. The band rattled -off the national anthem once more. - -"Now, what?" said John, turning to Mr. Scobell. "Breakfast?" - -"I guess you'd better say a few words to them, Your Highness; they'll -expect it." - -"But I can't speak the language, and they can't understand English. The -thing'll be a stand-off." - -"Crump will hand it to 'em. Here, Crump." - -"Sir?" - -"Line up and shoot His Highness's remarks into 'em." - -"Yes, sir. - -"It's all very well for you, Crump," said John. "You probably enjoy -this sort of thing. I don't. I haven't felt such a fool since I sang -'The Maiden's Prayer' on Tremont Street when I was joining the frat. -Are you ready? No, it's no good. I don't know what to say." - -"Tell 'em you're tickled to death," advised Mr. Scobell anxiously. - -John smiled in a friendly manner at the populace. Then he coughed. -"Gentlemen," he said--"and more particularly the sport on my left who -has just spoken his piece whose name I can't remember--I thank you for -the warm welcome you have given me. If it is any satisfaction to you to -know that it has made me feel like thirty cents, you may have that -satisfaction. Thirty is a liberal estimate." - -"'His Highness is overwhelmed by your loyal welcome. He thanks you -warmly,'" translated Mr. Crump, tactfully. - -"I feel that we shall get along nicely together," continued John. "If -you are chumps enough to turn out of your comfortable beds at this time -of the morning simply to see me, you can't be very hard to please. We -shall hit it off fine." - -_Mr. Crump:_ "His Highness hopes and believes that he will always -continue to command the affection of his people." - -"I--" John paused. "That's the lot," he said. "The flow of inspiration -has ceased. The magic fire has gone out. Break it to 'em, Crump. For -me, breakfast." - -During the early portion of the ride Mr. Scobell was silent and -thoughtful. John's speech had impressed him neither as oratory nor as -an index to his frame of mind. He had not interrupted him, because he -knew that none of those present could understand what was being said, -and that Mr. Crump was to be relied on as an editor. But he had not -enjoyed it. He did not take the people of Mervo seriously himself, but -in the Prince such an attitude struck him as unbecoming. Then he -cheered up. After all, John had given evidence of having a certain -amount of what he would have called "get-up" in him. For the purposes -for which he needed him, a tendency to make light of things was not -amiss. It was essentially as a performing prince that he had engaged -John. He wanted him to do unusual things, which would make people -talk--aeroplaning was one that occurred to him. Perhaps a prince who -took a serious view of his position would try to raise the people's -minds and start reforms and generally be a nuisance. John could, at any -rate, be relied upon not to do that. - -His face cleared. - -"Have a good cigar, Prince?" he said, cordially, inserting two fingers -in his vest-pocket. - -"Sure, Mike," said His Highness affably. - -Breakfast over, Mr. Scobell replaced the remains of his cigar between -his lips, and turned to business. - -"Eh, Prince?" he said. - -"Yes!" - -"I want you, Prince," said Mr. Scobell, "to help boom this place. -That's where you come in." - -"Sure," said John. - -"As to ruling and all that," continued Mr. Scobell, "there isn't any to -do. The place runs itself. Some guy gave it a shove a thousand years -ago, and it's been rolling along ever since. What I want you to do is -the picturesque stunts. Get a yacht and catch rare fishes. Whoop it up. -Entertain swell guys when they come here. Have a Court--see what I -mean?--same as over in England. Go around in aeroplanes and that style -of thing. Don't worry about money. That'll be all right. You draw your -steady hundred thousand a year and a good chunk more besides, when we -begin to get a move on, so the dough proposition doesn't need to scare -you any." - -"Do I, by George!" said John. "It seems to me that I've fallen into a -pretty soft thing here. There'll be a joker in the deck somewhere, I -guess. There always is in these good things. But I don't see it yet. -You can count me in all right." - -"Good boy," said Mr. Scobell. "And now you'll be wanting to get to the -Palace. I'll have them bring the automobile round." - -The council of state broke up. - -Having seen John off in the car, the financier proceeded to his -sister's sitting-room. Miss Scobell had breakfasted apart that morning, -by request, her brother giving her to understand that matters of state, -unsuited to the ear of a third party, must be discussed at the meal. -She was reading her _New York Herald_. - -"Well," said Mr. Scobell, "he's come." - -"Yes, dear?" - -"And just the sort I want. Saw the idea of the thing right away, and is -ready to go the limit. No nonsense about him." - -"Is he nice-looking, Bennie?" - -"Sure. All these Mervo princes have been good-lookers, I hear, and this -one must be near the top of the list. You'll like him, Marion. All the -girls will be crazy about him in a week." - -Miss Scobell turned a page. - -"Is he married?" - -Her brother started. - -"Married? I never thought of that. But no, I guess he's not. He'd have -mentioned it. He's not the sort to hush up a thing like that. I--" - -He stopped short. His green eyes gleamed excitedly. - -"Marion!" he cried. "_Marion!_" - -"Well, dear?" - -"Listen. Gee, this thing is going to be the biggest ever. I gotta new -idea. It just came to me. Your saying that put it into my head. Do you -know what I'm going to do? I'm going to cable over to Betty to come -right along here, and I'm going to have her marry this prince guy. Yes, -sir!" - -For once Miss Scobell showed signs that her brother's conversation -really interested her. She laid down her paper, and stared at him. - -"Betty!" - -"Sure, Betty. Why not? She's a pretty girl. Clever too. The Prince'll -be lucky to get such a wife, for all his darned ancestors away back to -the flood." - -"But suppose Betty does not like him?" - -"Like him? She's gotta like him. Say, can't you make your mind soar, or -won't you? Can't you see that a thing like this has gotta be fixed -different from a marriage between--between a ribbon-counter clerk and -the girl who takes the money at a twenty-five-cent hash restaurant in -Flatbush? This is a royal alliance. Do you suppose that when a European -princess is introduced to the prince she's going to marry, they let her -say: 'Nothing doing. I don't like the shape of his nose'?" - -He gave a spirited imitation of a European princess objecting to the -shape of her selected husband's nose. - -"It isn't very romantic, Bennie," sighed Miss Scobell. She was a -confirmed reader of the more sentimental class of fiction, and this -business-like treatment of love's young dream jarred upon her. - -"It's founding a dynasty. Isn't that romantic enough for you? You make -me tired, Marion." - -Miss Scobell sighed again. - -"Very well, dear. I suppose you know best. But perhaps the Prince won't -like Betty." - -Mr. Scobell gave a snort of disgust. - -"Marion," he said, "you've got a mind like a chunk of wet dough. Can't -you understand that the Prince is just as much in my employment as the -man who scrubs the Casino steps? I'm hiring him to be Prince of Mervo, -and his first job as Prince of Mervo will be to marry Betty. I'd like -to see him kick!" He began to pace the room. "By Heck, it's going to -make this place boom to beat the band. It'll be the biggest kind of -advertisement. Restoration of Royalty at Mervo. That'll make them take -notice by itself. Then, biff! right on top of that, Royal -Romance--Prince Weds American Girl--Love at First Sight--Picturesque -Wedding! Gee, we'll wipe Monte Carlo clean off the map. We'll have 'em -licked to a splinter. We--It's the greatest scheme on earth." - -"I have no doubt you are right, Bennie," said Miss Scobell, "but--" her -voice became dreamy again--"it's not very romantic." - -"Oh, shucks!" said the schemer impatiently. "Here, where's a cable -form?" - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -YOUNG ADAM CUPID - - -On a red sandstone rock at the edge of the water, where the island -curved sharply out into the sea, Prince John of Mervo sat and brooded -on first causes. For nearly an hour and a half he had been engaged in -an earnest attempt to trace to its source the acute fit of depression -which had come--apparently from nowhere--to poison his existence that -morning. - -It was his seventh day on the island, and he could remember every -incident of his brief reign. The only thing that eluded him was the -recollection of the exact point when the shadow of discontent had begun -to spread itself over his mind. Looking back, it seemed to him that he -had done nothing during that week but enjoy each new aspect of his -position as it was introduced to his notice. Yet here he was, sitting -on a lonely rock, consumed with an unquenchable restlessness, a kind of -trapped sensation. Exactly when and exactly how Fate, that king of -gold-brick men, had cheated him he could not say; but he knew, with a -certainty that defied argument, that there had been sharp practise, and -that in an unguarded moment he had been induced to part with something -of infinite value in exchange for a gilded fraud. - -The mystery baffled him. He sent his mind back to the first definite -entry of Mervo into the foreground of his life. He had come up from his -stateroom on to the deck of the little steamer, and there in the -pearl-gray of the morning was the island, gradually taking definite -shape as the pink mists shredded away before the rays of the rising -sun. As the ship rounded the point where the lighthouse still flashed a -needless warning from its cluster of jagged rocks, he had had his first -view of the town, nestling at the foot of the hill, gleaming white -against the green, with the gold-domed Casino towering in its midst. In -all Southern Europe there was no view to match it for quiet beauty. For -all his thews and sinews there was poetry in John, and the sight had -stirred him like wine. - -It was not then that depression had begun, nor was it during the -reception at the quay. - -The days that had followed had been peaceful and amusing. He could not -detect in any one of them a sign of the approaching shadow. They had -been lazy days. His duties had been much more simple than he had -anticipated. He had not known, before he tried it, that it was possible -to be a prince with so small an expenditure of mental energy. As Mr. -Scobell had hinted, to all intents and purposes he was a mere ornament. -His work began at eleven in the morning, and finished as a rule at -about a quarter after. At the hour named a report of the happenings of -the previous day was brought to him. When he had read it the state -asked no more of him until the next morning. - -The report was made up of such items as "A fisherman named Lesieur -called Carbineer Ferrier a fool in the market-place at eleven minutes -after two this afternoon; he has not been arrested, but is being -watched," and generally gave John a few minutes of mild enjoyment. -Certainly he could not recollect that it had ever depressed him. - -No, it had been something else that had worked the mischief and in -another moment the thing stood revealed, beyond all question of doubt. -What had unsettled him was that unexpected meeting with Betty Silver -last night at the Casino. - -He had been sitting at the Dutch table. He generally visited the Casino -after dinner. The light and movement of the place interested him. As a -rule, he merely strolled through the rooms, watching the play; but last -night he had slipped into a vacant seat. He had only just settled -himself when he was aware of a girl standing beside him. He got up. - -"Would you care--?" he had begun, and then he saw her face. - -It had all happened in an instant. Some chord in him, numbed till then, -had begun to throb. It was as if he had awakened from a dream, or -returned to consciousness after being stunned. There was something in -the sight of her, standing there so cool and neat and composed, so -typically American, a sort of goddess of America, in the heat and stir -of the Casino, that struck him like a blow. - -How long was it since he had seen her last? Not more than a couple of -years. It seemed centuries. It all came back to him. It was during his -last winter at Harvard that they had met. A college friend of hers had -been the sister of a college friend of his. They had met several times, -but he could not recollect having taken any particular notice of her -then, beyond recognizing that she was certainly pretty. The world had -been full of pretty American girls then. But now-- - -He looked at her. And, as he looked, he heard America calling to him. -Mervo, by the appeal of its novelty, had caused him to forget. But now, -quite suddenly, he knew that he was homesick--and it astonished him, -the readiness with which he had permitted Mr. Crump to lead him away -into bondage. It seemed incredible that he had not foreseen what must -happen. - -Love comes to some gently, imperceptibly, creeping in as the tide, -through unsuspected creeks and inlets, creeps on a sleeping man, until -he wakes to find himself surrounded. But to others it comes as a wave, -breaking on them, beating them down, whirling them away. - -It was so with John. In that instant when their eyes met the miracle -must have happened. It seemed to him, as he recalled the scene now, -that he had loved her before he had had time to frame his first remark. -It amazed him that he could ever have been blind to the fact that he -loved her, she was so obviously the only girl in the world. - -"You--you don't remember me," he stammered. - -She was flushing a little under his stare, but her eyes were shining. - -"I remember you very well, Mr. Maude," she said with a smile. "I -thought I knew your shoulders before you turned round. What are you -doing here?" - -"I--" - -There was a hush. The _croupier_ had set the ball rolling. A -wizened little man and two ladies of determined aspect were looking up -disapprovingly. John realized that he was the only person in the room -not silent. It was impossible to tell her the story of the change in -his fortunes in the middle of this crowd. He stopped, and the moment -passed. - -The ball dropped with a rattle. The tension relaxed. - -"Won't you take this seat?" said John. - -"No, thank you. I'm not playing. I only just stopped to look on. My -aunt is in one of the rooms, and I want to make her come home. I'm -tired." - -"Have you--?" - -He caught the eye of the wizened man, and stopped again. - -"Have you been in Mervo long?" he said, as the ball fell. - -"I only arrived this morning. It seems lovely. I must explore -to-morrow." - -She was beginning to move off. - -"Er--" John coughed to remove what seemed to him a deposit of sawdust -and unshelled nuts in his throat. "Er--may I--will you let me show -you--" prolonged struggle with the nuts and sawdust; then -rapidly--"some of the places to-morrow?" - -He had hardly spoken the words when it was borne in upon him that he -was a vulgar, pushing bounder, presuming on a dead and buried -acquaintanceship to force his company on a girl who naturally did not -want it, and who would now proceed to snub him as he deserved. He -quailed. Though he had not had time to collect and examine and label -his feelings, he was sufficiently in touch with them to know that a -snub from her would be the most terrible thing that could possibly -happen to him. - -She did not snub him. Indeed, if he had been in a state of mind -coherent enough to allow him to observe, he might have detected in her -eyes and her voice signs of pleasure. - -"I should like it very much," she said. - -John made his big effort. He attacked the nuts and sawdust which had -come back and settled down again in company with a large lump of some -unidentified material, as if he were bucking center. They broke before -him as, long ago, the Yale line had done, and his voice rang out as if -through a megaphone, to the unconcealed disgust of the neighboring -gamesters. - -"If you go along the path at the foot of the hill," he bellowed -rapidly, "and follow it down to the sea, you get a little bay full of -red sandstone rocks--you can't miss it--and there's a fine view of the -island from there. I'd like awfully well to show that to you. It's -great." - -She nodded. - -"Then shall we meet there?" she said. "When?" - -John was in no mood to postpone the event. - -"As early as ever you like," he roared. - -"At about ten, then. Good-night, Mr. Maude." - - * * * * * - -John had reached the bay at half-past eight, and had been on guard -there ever since. It was now past ten, but still there were no signs of -Betty. His depression increased. He told himself that she had -forgotten. Then, that she had remembered, but had changed her mind. -Then, that she had never meant to come at all. He could not decide -which of the three theories was the most distressing. - -His mood became morbidly introspective. He was weighed down by a sense -of his own unworthiness. He submitted himself to a thorough -examination, and the conclusion to which he came was that, as an -aspirant to the regard, of a girl like Betty, he did not score a single -point. No wonder she had ignored the appointment. - -A cold sweat broke out on him. This was the snub! She had not -administered it in the Casino simply in order that, by being delayed, -its force might be the more overwhelming. - -He looked at his watch again, and the world grew black. It was twelve -minutes after ten. - -John, in his time, had thought and read a good deal about love. Ever -since he had grown up, he had wanted to fall in love. He had imagined -love as a perpetual exhilaration, something that flooded life with a -golden glow as if by the pressing of a button or the pulling of a -switch, and automatically removed from it everything mean and hard and -uncomfortable; a something that made a man feel grand and god-like, -looking down (benevolently, of course) on his fellow men as from some -lofty mountain. - -That it should make him feel a worm-like humility had not entered his -calculations. He was beginning to see something of the possibilities of -love. His tentative excursions into the unknown emotion, while at -college, had never really deceived him; even at the time a sort of -second self had looked on and sneered at the poor imitation. - -This was different. This had nothing to do with moonlight and soft -music. It was raw and hard. It hurt. It was a thing sharp and jagged, -tearing at the roots of his soul. - -He turned his head, and looked up the path for the hundredth time, and -this time he sprang to his feet. Between the pines on the hillside his -eye had caught the flutter of a white dress. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -MR. SCOBELL IS FRANK - - -Much may happen in these rapid times in the course of an hour and a -half. While John was keeping his vigil on the sandstone rock, Betty was -having an interview with Mr. Scobell which was to produce far-reaching -results, and which, incidentally, was to leave her angrier and more at -war with the whole of her world than she could remember to have been in -the entire course of her life. - -The interview began, shortly after breakfast, in a gentle and tactful -manner, with Aunt Marion at the helm. But Mr. Scobell was not the man -to stand by silently while persons were being tactful. At the end of -the second minute he had plunged through his sister's mild monologue -like a rhinoceros through a cobweb, and had stated definitely, with an -economy of words, the exact part which Betty was to play in Mervian -affairs. - -"You say you want to know why you were cabled for. I'll tell you. -There's no use talking for half a day before you get to the point. I -guess you've heard that there's a prince here instead of a republic -now? Well, that's where you come in." - -"Do you mean--?" she hesitated. - -"Yes, I do," said Mr. Scobell. There was a touch of doggedness in his -voice. He was not going to stand any nonsense, by Heck, but there was -no doubt that Betty's wide-open eyes were not very easy to meet. He -went on rapidly. "Cut out any fool notions about romance." Miss -Scobell, who was knitting a sock, checked her needles for a moment in -order to sigh. Her brother eyed her morosely, then resumed his remarks. -"This is a matter of state. That's it. You gotta cut out fool notions -and act for good of state. You gotta look at it in the proper spirit. -Great honor--see what I mean? Princess and all that. Chance of a -lifetime--dynasty--you gotta look at it that way." - -Miss Scobell heaved another sigh, and dropped a stitch. - -"For the love of Mike," said her brother, irritably, "don't snort like -that, Marion." - -"Very well, dear." - -Betty had not taken her eyes off him from his first word. An unbiased -observer would have said that she made a pretty picture, standing -there, in her white dress, but in the matter of pictures, still life -was evidently what Mr. Scobell preferred for his gaze never wandered -from the cigar stump which he had removed from his mouth in order to -knock off the ash. - -Betty continued to regard him steadfastly. The shock of his words had -to some extent numbed her. At this moment she was merely thinking, -quite dispassionately, what a singularly nasty little man he looked, -and wondering--not for the first time--what strange quality, invisible -to everybody else, it had been in him that had made her mother his -adoring slave during the whole of their married life. - -Then her mind began to work actively once more. She was a Western girl, -and an insistence on freedom was the first article in her creed. A -great rush of anger filled her, that this man should set himself up to -dictate to her. - -"Do you mean that you want me to marry this Prince?" she said. - -"That's right." - -"I won't do anything of the sort." - -"Pshaw! Don't be foolish. You make me tired." - -Betty's eye shone mutinously. Her cheeks were flushed, and her slim, -boyish figure quivered. Her chin, always determined, became a silent -Declaration of Independence. - -"I won't," she said. - -Aunt Marion, suspending operations on the sock, went on with tact at -the point where her brother's interruption had forced her to leave off. - -"I'm sure he's a very nice young man. I have not seen him, but -everybody says so. You like him, Bennie, don't you?" - -"Sure, I like him. He's a corker. Wait till you see him, Betty. -Nobody's asking you to marry him before lunch. You'll have plenty of -time to get acquainted. It beats me what you're kicking at. You give me -a pain in the neck. Be reasonable." - -Betty sought for arguments to clinch her refusal. - -"It's ridiculous," she said. "You talk as if you had just to wave your -hand. Why should your prince want to marry a girl he has never seen?" - -"He will," said Mr. Scobell confidently. - -"How do you know?" - -"Because I know he's a sensible young skeesicks. That's how. See here, -Betty, you've gotten hold of wrong ideas about this place. You don't -understand the position of affairs. Your aunt didn't till I put her -wise." - -"He bit my head off, my dear," murmured Miss Scobell, knitting -placidly. - -"You're thinking that Mervo is an ordinary state, and that the Prince -is one of those independent, all-wool, off-with-his-darned-head rulers -like you read about in the best sellers. Well, you've got another guess -coming. If you want to know who's the big noise here, it's me--me! This -Prince guy is my hired man. See? Who sent for him? I did. Who put him -on the throne? I did. Who pays him his salary? I do, from the profits -of the Casino. Now do you understand? He knows his job. He knows which -side his bread's buttered. When I tell him about this marriage, do you -know what he'll say? He'll say 'Thank you, sir!' That's how things are -in this island." - -Betty shuddered. Her face was white with humiliation. She half-raised -her hands with an impulsive movement to hide it. - -"I won't. I won't. I won't!" she gasped. - -Mr. Scobell was pacing the room in an ecstasy of triumphant rhetoric. - -"There's another thing," he said, swinging round suddenly and causing -his sister to drop another stitch. "Maybe you think he's some kind of a -Dago, this guy? Maybe that's what's biting you. Let me tell you that -he's an American--pretty near as much an American as you are yourself." - -Betty stared at him. - -"An American!" - -"Don't believe it, eh? Well, let me tell you that his mother was born -and raised in Jersey, and that he has lived all his life in the States. -He's no little runt of a Dago. No, sir. He's a Harvard man, six-foot -high and weighs two hundred pounds. That's the sort of man he is. I -guess that's not American enough for you, maybe? No?" - -"You do shout so, Bennie!" murmured Miss Scobell. "I'm sure there's no -need." - -Betty uttered a cry. Something had told her who he was, this Harvard -man who had sold himself. That species of sixth sense which lies -undeveloped at the back of our minds during the ordinary happenings of -life wakes sometimes in moments of keen emotion. At its highest, it is -prophecy; at its lowest, a vague presentiment. It woke in Betty now. -There was no particular reason why she should have connected her -stepfather's words with John. The term he had used was an elastic one. -Among the visitors to the island there were probably several Harvard -men. But somehow she knew. - -"Who is he?" she cried. "What was his name before he--when he--?" - -"His name?" said Mr. Scobell. "John Maude. Maude was his mother's name. -She was a Miss Westley. Here, where are you going?" - -Betty was walking slowly toward the door. Something in her face checked -Mr. Scobell. - -"I want to think," she said quietly. "I'm going out." - - * * * * * - -In days of old, in the age of legend, omens warned heroes of impending -doom. But to-day the gods have grown weary, and we rush unsuspecting on -our fate. No owl hooted, no thunder rolled from the blue sky as John -went up the path to meet the white dress that gleamed between the -trees. - -His heart was singing within him. She had come. She had not forgotten, -or changed her mind, or willfully abandoned him. His mood lightened -swiftly. Humility vanished. He was not such an outcast, after all. He -was someone. He was the man Betty Silver had come to meet. - -But with the sight of her face came reaction. - -Her face was pale and cold and hard. She did not speak or smile. As she -drew near she looked at him, and there was that in her look which set a -chill wind blowing through the world and cast a veil across the sun. - -And in this bleak world they stood silent and motionless while eons -rolled by. - -Betty was the first to speak. - -"I'm late," she said. - -John searched in his brain for words, and came empty away. He shook his -head dumbly. - -"Shall we sit down?" said Betty. - -John indicated silently the sandstone rock on which he had been -communing with himself. - -They sat down. A sense of being preposterously and indecently big -obsessed John. There seemed no end to him. Wherever he looked, there -were hands and feet and legs. He was a vast blot on the face of the -earth. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Betty. She was gazing -out to sea. - -He dived into his brain again. It was absurd! There must be something -to say. - -And then he realized that a worse thing had befallen. He had no voice. -It had gone. He knew that, try he never so hard to speak, he would not -be able to utter a word. A nightmare feeling of unreality came upon -him. Had he ever spoken? Had he ever done anything but sit dumbly on -that rock, looking at those sea gulls out in the water? - -He shot another swift glance at Betty, and a thrill went through him. -There were tears in her eyes. - -The next moment--the action was almost automatic--his left hand was -clasping her right, and he was moving along the rock to her side. - -She snatched her hand away. - -His brain, ransacked for the third time, yielded a single word. - -"Betty!" - -She got up quickly. - -In the confused state of his mind, John found it necessary if he were -to speak at all, to say the essential thing in the shortest possible -way. Polished periods are not for the man who is feeling deeply. - -He blurted out, huskily, "I love you!" and finding that this was all -that he could say, was silent. - -Even to himself the words, as he spoke them, sounded bald and -meaningless. To Betty, shaken by her encounter with Mr. Scobell, they -sounded artificial, as if he were forcing himself to repeat a lesson. -They jarred upon her. - -"Don't!" she said sharply. "Oh, don't!" - -Her voice stabbed him. It could not have stirred him more if she had -uttered a cry of physical pain. - -"Don't! I know. I've been told." - -"Been told?" - -She went on quickly. - -"I know all about it. My stepfather has just told me. He said--he said -you were his--" she choked--"his hired man; that he paid you to stay -here and advertise the Casino. Oh, it's too horrible! That it should be -you! You, who have been--you can't understand what you--have been to -me--ever since we met; you couldn't understand. I can't tell you--a -sort of help--something--something that--I can't put it into words. -Only it used to help me just to think of you. It was almost impersonal. -I didn't mind if I never saw you again. I didn't expect ever to see you -again. It was just being able to think of you. It helped--you were -something I could trust. Something strong--solid." She laughed -bitterly. "I suppose I made a hero of you. Girls are fools. But it -helped me to feel that there was one man alive who--who put his honor -above money--" - -She broke off. John stood motionless, staring at the ground. For the -first time in his easy-going life he knew shame. Even now he had not -grasped to the full the purport of her words. The scales were falling -from his eyes, but as yet he saw but dimly. - -She began to speak again, in a low, monotonous voice, almost as if she -were talking to herself. She was looking past him, at the gulls that -swooped and skimmed above the glittering water. - -"I'm so tired of money--money--money. Everything's money. Isn't there a -man in the world who won't sell himself? I thought that you--I suppose -I'm stupid. It's business, I suppose. One expects too much." - -She looked at him wearily. - -"Good-by," she said. "I'm going." - -He did not move. - -She turned, and went slowly up the path. Still he made no movement. A -spell seemed to be on him. His eyes never left her as she passed into -the shadow of the trees. For a moment her white dress stood out -clearly. She had stopped. With his whole soul he prayed that she would -look back. But she moved on once more, and was gone. And suddenly a -strange weakness came upon John. He trembled. The hillside flickered -before his eyes for an instant, and he clutched at the sandstone rock -to steady himself. - -Then his brain cleared, and he found himself thinking swiftly. He could -not let her go like this. He must overtake her. He must stop her. He -must speak to her. He must say--he did not know what it was that he -would say--anything, so that he spoke to her again. - -He raced up the path, calling her name. No answer came to his cries. -Above him lay the hillside, dozing in the noonday sun; below, the -Mediterranean, sleek and blue, without a ripple. He stood alone in a -land of silence and sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -AN ULTIMATUM FROM THE THRONE - - -At half-past twelve that morning business took Mr. Benjamin Scobell to -the royal Palace. He was not a man who believed in letting the grass -grow under his feet. He prided himself on his briskness of attack. -Every now and then Mr. Crump, searching the newspapers, would discover -and hand to him a paragraph alluding to his "hustling methods." When -this happened, he would preserve the clipping and carry it about in his -vest-pocket with his cigars till time and friction wore it away. He -liked to think of himself as swift and sudden--the Human Thunderbolt. - -In this matter of the royal alliance, it was his intention to have at -it and clear it up at once. Having put his views clearly before Betty, -he now proposed to lay them with equal clarity before the Prince. There -was no sense in putting the thing off. The sooner all parties concerned -understood the position of affairs, the sooner the business would be -settled. - -That Betty had not received his information with joy did not distress -him. He had a poor opinion of the feminine intelligence. Girls got their -minds full of nonsense from reading novels and seeing plays--like Betty. -Betty objected to those who were wiser than herself providing a perfectly -good prince for her to marry. Some fool notion of romance, of course. Not -that he was angry. He did not blame her any more than the surgeon blames -a patient for the possession of an unsuitable appendix. There was no -animus in the matter. Her mind was suffering from foolish ideas, and he -was the surgeon whose task it was to operate upon it. That was all. One -had to expect foolishness in women. It was their nature. The only thing -to do was to tie a rope to them and let them run around till they were -tired of it, then pull them in. He saw his way to managing Betty. - -Nor did he anticipate trouble with John. He had taken an estimate of -John's character, and it did not seem to him likely that it contained -unsuspected depths. He set John down, as he had told Betty, as a young -man acute enough to know when he had a good job and sufficiently -sensible to make concessions in order to retain it. Betty, after the -manner of woman, might make a fuss before yielding to the inevitable, -but from level-headed John he looked for placid acquiescence. - -His mood, as the automobile whirred its way down the hill toward the -town, was sunny. He looked on life benevolently and found it good. The -view appealed to him more than it had managed to do on other days. As a -rule, he was the man of blood and iron who had no time for admiring -scenery, but to-day he vouchsafed it a not unkindly glance. It was -certainly a dandy little place, this island of his. A vineyard on the -right caught his eye. He made a mental note to uproot it and run up a -hotel in its place. Further down the hill, he selected a site for a -villa, where the mimosa blazed, and another where at present there were -a number of utterly useless violets. A certain practical element was -apt, perhaps, to color Mr. Scobell's half-hours with nature. - -The sight of the steamboat leaving the harbor on its journey to -Marseilles gave him another idea. Now that Mervo was a going concern, a -real live proposition, it was high time that it should have an adequate -service of boats. The present system of one a day was absurd. He made a -note to look into the matter. These people wanted waking up. - -Arriving at the Palace, he was informed that His Highness had gone out -shortly after breakfast, and had not returned. The majordomo gave the -information with a tinkle of disapproval in his voice. Before taking up -his duties at Mervo, he had held a similar position in the household of -a German prince, where rigid ceremonial obtained, and John's cheerful -disregard of the formalities frankly shocked him. To take the present -case for instance: When His Highness of Swartzheim had felt inclined to -enjoy the air of a morning, it had been a domestic event full of stir -and pomp. He had not merely crammed a soft hat over his eyes and -strolled out with his hands in his pockets, but without a word to his -household staff as to where he was going or when he might be expected -to return. - -Mr. Scobell received the news equably, and directed his chauffeur to -return to the villa. He could not have done better, for, on his -arrival, he was met with the information that His Highness had called -to see him shortly after he had left, and was now waiting in the -morning-room. - -The sound of footsteps came to Mr. Scobell's ears as he approached the -room. His Highness appeared to be pacing the floor like a caged animal -at the luncheon hour. The resemblance was heightened by the expression -in the royal eye as His Highness swung round at the opening of the door -and faced the financier. - -"Why, say, Prince," said Mr. Scobell, "this is lucky. I been looking -for you. I just been to the Palace, and the main guy there told me you -had gone out." - -"I did. And I met your stepdaughter." - -Mr. Scobell was astonished. Fate was certainly smoothing his way if it -arranged meetings between Betty and the Prince before he had time to do -it himself. There might be no need for the iron hand after all. - -"You did?" he said. "Say, how the Heck did you come to do that? What -did you know about Betty?" - -"Miss Silver and I had met before, in America, when I was in college." - -Mr. Scobell slapped his thigh joyously. - -"Gee, it's all working out like a fiction story in the magazines!" - -"Is it?" said John. "How? And, for the matter of that, what?" - -Mr. Scobell answered question with question. "Say, Prince, you and -Betty were pretty good friends in the old days, I guess?" - -John looked at him coldly. - -"We won't discuss that, if you don't mind," he said. - -His tone annoyed Mr. Scobell. Off came the velvet glove, and the iron -hand displayed itself. His green eyes glowed dully and the tip of his -nose wriggled, as was its habit in times of emotion. - -"Is that so?" he cried, regarding John with disfavor. "Well, I guess! -Won't discuss it! You gotta discuss it, Your Royal Texas League -Highness! You want making a head shorter, my bucko. You--" - -John's demeanor had become so dangerous that he broke off abruptly, and -with an unostentatious movement, as of a man strolling carelessly about -his private sanctum, put himself within easy reach of the door handle. - -He then became satirical. - -"Maybe Your Serene, Imperial Two-by-Fourness would care to suggest a -subject we can discuss?" - -John took a step forward. - -"Yes, I will," he said between his teeth. "You were talking to Miss -Silver about me this morning. She told me one or two of the things you -said, and they opened my eyes. Until I heard them, I had not quite -understood my position. I do now. You said, among other things, that I -was your hired man." - -"It wasn't intended for you to hear," said Mr. Scobell, slightly -mollified, "and Betty shouldn't oughter have handed it to you. I don't -wonder you feel raw. I wouldn't say that sort of thing to a guy's face. -Sure, no. Tact's my middle name. But, since you have heard it, well--!" - -"Don't apologize. You were quite right. I was a fool not to see it -before. No description could have been fairer. You might have said much -more. You might have added that I was nothing more than a steerer for a -gambling hell." - -"Oh, come, Prince!" - -There was a knock at the door. A footman entered, bearing, with a -detached air, as if he disclaimed all responsibility, a letter on a -silver tray. - -Mr. Scobell slit the envelope, and began to read. As he did so his eyes -grew round, and his mouth slowly opened till his cigar stump, after -hanging for a moment from his lower lip, dropped off like an exhausted -bivalve and rolled along the carpet. - -"Prince," he gasped, "she's gone. Betty!" - -"Gone! What do you mean?" - -"She's beaten it. She's half-way to Marseilles by now. Gee, and I saw -the darned boat going out!" - -"She's gone!" - -"This is from her. Listen what she says: - - "_By the time you read this I shall be gone. I am going back - to America as quickly as I can. I am giving this to a boy to - take to you directly the boat has started. Please do not try - to bring me back. I would sooner die than marry the Prince._" - -John started violently. - -"What!" he cried. - -Mr. Scobell nodded sympathy. - -"That's what she says. She sure has it in bad for you. What does she -mean? Seeing you and she are old friends--" - -"I don't understand. Why does she say that to you? Why should she think -that you knew that I had asked her to marry me?" - -"Eh?" cried Mr. Scobell. "You asked her to marry you? And she turned -you down! Prince, this beats the band. Say, you and I must get together -and do something. The girl's mad. See here, you aren't wise to what's -been happening. I been fixing this thing up. I fetched you over here, -and then I fetched Betty, and I was going to have you two marry. I told -Betty all about it this morning." - -John cut through his explanations with a sudden sharp cry. A blinding -blaze of understanding had flashed upon him. It was as if he had been -groping his way in a dark cavern and had stumbled unexpectedly into -brilliant sunlight. He understood everything now. Every word that Betty -had spoken, every gesture that she had made, had become amazingly -clear. He saw now why she had shrunk back from him, why her eyes had -worn that look. He dared not face the picture of himself as he must -have appeared in those eyes, the man whom Mr. Benjamin Scobell's Casino -was paying to marry her, the hired man earning his wages by speaking -words of love. - -A feeling of physical sickness came over him. He held to the table for -support as he had held to the sandstone rock. And then came rage, rage -such as he had never felt before, rage that he had not thought himself -capable of feeling. It swept over him in a wave, pouring through his -veins and blinding him, and he clung to the table till his knuckles -whitened under the strain, for he knew that he was very near to murder. - -A minute passed. He walked to the window, and stood there, looking out. -Vaguely he heard Mr. Scobell's voice at his back, talking on, but the -words had no meaning for him. - -He had begun to think with a curious coolness. His detachment surprised -him. It was one of those rare moments in a man's life when, from the -outside, through a breach in that wall of excuses and self-deception -which he has been at such pains to build, he looks at himself -impartially. - -The sight that John saw through the wall was not comforting. It was not -a heroic soul that, stripped of its defenses, shivered beneath the -scrutiny. In another mood he would have mended the breach, excusing and -extenuating, but not now. He looked at himself without pity, and saw -himself weak, slothful, devoid of all that was clean and fine, and a -bitter contempt filled him. - -Outside the window, a blaze of color, Mervo smiled up at him, and -suddenly he found himself loathing its exotic beauty. He felt stifled. -This was no place for a man. A vision of clean winds and wide spaces -came to him. - -And just then, at the foot of the hill, the dome of the Casino caught -the sun, and flashed out in a blaze of gold. - -He swung round and faced Mr. Scobell. He had made up his mind. - -The financier was still talking. - -"So that's how it stands, Prince," he was saying, "and it's up to us to -get busy." - -John looked at him. - -"I intend to," he said. - -"Good boy!" said the financier. - -"To begin with, I shall run you out of this place, Mr. Scobell." - -The other gasped. - -"There is going to be a cleaning-up," John went on. "I've thought it -out. There will be no more gambling in Mervo." - -"You're crazy with the heat!" gasped Mr. Scobell. "Abolish gambling? -You can't." - -"I can. That concession of yours isn't worth the paper it's written on. -The Republic gave it to you. The Republic's finished. If you want to -conduct a Casino in Mervo, there's only one man who can give you -permission, and that's myself. The acts of the Republic are not binding -on me. For a week you have been gambling on this island without a -concession and now it's going to stop. Do you understand?" - -"But, Prince, talk sense." Mr. Scobell's voice was almost tearful. -"It's you who don't understand. Do, for the love of Mike, come down off -the roof and talk sense. Do you suppose that these guys here will stand -for this? Not on your life. Not for a minute. See here. I'm not blaming -you. I know you don't know what you're saying. But listen here. You -must cut out this kind of thing. You mustn't get these ideas in your -head. You stick to your job, and don't butt in on other folks'. Do you -know how long you'd stay Prince of this joint if you started in to -monkey with my Casino? Just about long enough to let you pack a -collar-stud and a toothbrush into your grip. And after that there -wouldn't be any more Prince, sonnie. You stick to your job and I'll -stick to mine. You're a mighty good Prince for all that's required of -you. You're ornamental, and you've got get-up in you. You just keep -right on being a good boy, and don't start trying stunts off your own -beat, and you'll do fine. Don't forget that I'm the big noise here. I'm -old Grayback from 'way back in Mervo. See! I've only to twiddle my -fingers and there'll be a revolution and you for the Down-and-Out Club. -Don't you forget it, sonnie." - -John shrugged his shoulders. - -"I've said all I have to say. You've had your notice to quit. After -to-night the Casino is closed." - -"But don't I tell you the people won't stand for it?" - -"That's for them to decide. They may have some self-respect." - -"They'll fire you!" - -"Very well. That will prove that they have not." - -"Prince, talk sense! You can't mean that you'll throw away a hundred -thousand dollars a year as if it was dirt!" - -"It is dirt when it's made that way. We needn't discuss it any more." - -"But, Prince!" - -"It's finished." - -"But, say--!" - -John had left the room. - -He had been gone several minutes before the financier recovered full -possession of his faculties. - -When he did, his remarks were brief and to the point. - -"Bug-house!" he gasped. "Abso-lutely bug-house!" - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -MERVO CHANGES ITS CONSTITUTION - - -Humor, if one looks into it, is principally a matter of retrospect. In -after years John was wont to look back with amusement on the revolution -which ejected him from the throne of his ancestors. But at the time its -mirthfulness did not appeal to him. He was in a frenzy of restlessness. -He wanted Betty. He wanted to see her and explain. Explanations could -not restore him to the place he had held in her mind, but at least they -would show her that he was not the thing he had appeared. - -Mervo had become a prison. He ached for America. But, before he could -go, this matter of the Casino must be settled. It was obvious that it -could only be settled in one way. He did not credit his subjects with -the high-mindedness that puts ideals first and money after. That -military and civilians alike would rally to a man round Mr. Scobell and -the Casino he was well aware. But this did not affect his determination -to remain till the last. If he went now, he would be like a boy who -makes a runaway ring at the doorbell. Until he should receive formal -notice of dismissal, he must stay, although every day had forty-eight -hours and every hour twice its complement of weary minutes. - -So he waited, chafing, while Mervo examined the situation, turned it -over in its mind, discussed it, slept upon it, discussed it again, and -displayed generally that ponderous leisureliness which is the Mervian's -birthright. - -Indeed, the earliest demonstration was not Mervian at all. It came from -the visitors to the island, and consisted of a deputation of four, -headed by the wizened little man, who had frowned at John in the Dutch -room on the occasion of his meeting with Betty, and a stolid individual -with a bald forehead and a walrus mustache. - -The tone of the deputation was, from the first, querulous. The wizened -man had constituted himself spokesman. He introduced the party--the -walrus as Colonel Finch, the others as Herr von Mandelbaum and Mr. -Archer-Cleeve. His own name was Pugh, and the whole party, like the -other visitors whom they represented, had, it seemed, come to Mervo, at -great trouble and expense, to patronize the tables, only to find these -suddenly, without a word of warning, withdrawn from their patronage. -And what the deputation wished to know was, What did it all mean? - -"We were amazed, sir--Your Highness," said Mr. Pugh. "We could not--we -cannot--understand it. The entire thing is a baffling mystery to us. We -asked the soldiers at the door. They referred us to Mr. Scobell. We -asked Mr. Scobell. He referred us to you. And now we have come, as the -representatives of our fellow visitors to this island, to ask Your -Highness what it means!" - -"Have a cigar," said John, extending the box. Mr. Pugh waved aside the -preferred gift impatiently. Not so Herr von Mandelbaum, who slid -forward after the manner of one in quest of second base and retired -with his prize to the rear of the little army once more. - -Mr. Archer-Cleeve, a young man with carefully parted fair hair and the -expression of a strayed sheep, contributed a remark. - -"No, but I say, by Jove, you know, I mean really, you know, what?" - -That was Mr. Archer-Cleeve upon the situation. - -"We have not come here for cigars," said Mr. Pugh. "We have come here, -Your Highness, for an explanation." - -"Of what?" said John. - -Mr. Pugh made an impatient gesture. - -"Do you question my right to rule this massive country as I think best, -Mr. Pugh?" - -"It is a high-handed proceeding," said the wizened little man. - -The walrus spoke for the first time. - -"What say?" he murmured huskily. - -"I said," repeated Mr. Pugh, raising his voice, "that it was a -high-handed proceeding, Colonel." - -The walrus nodded heavily, in assent, with closed eyes. - -"Yah," said Herr von Mandelbaum through the smoke. - -John looked at the spokesman. - -"You are from England, Mr. Pugh?" - -"Yes, sir. I am a British citizen." - -"Suppose some enterprising person began to run a gambling hell in -Piccadilly, would the authorities look on and smile?" - -"That is an entirely different matter, sir. You are quibbling. In -England gambling is forbidden by law." - -"So it is in Mervo, Mr. Pugh." - -"Tchah!" - -"What say?" said the walrus. - -"I said 'Tchah!' Colonel." - -"Why?" said the walrus. - -"Because His Highness quibbled." - -The walrus nodded approvingly. - -"His Highness did nothing of the sort," said John. "Gambling is -forbidden in Mervo for the same reason that it is forbidden in England, -because it demoralizes the people." - -"This is absurd, sir. Gambling has been permitted in Mervo for nearly a -year." - -"But not by me, Mr. Pugh. The Republic certainly granted Mr. Scobell a -concession. But, when I came to the throne, it became necessary for him -to get a concession from me. I refused it. Hence the closed doors." - -Mr. Archer-Cleeve once more. "But--" He paused. "Forgotten what I was -going to say," he said to the room at large. - -Herr von Mandelbaum made some remark at the back of his throat, but was -ignored. - -John spoke again. - -"If you were a prince, Mr. Pugh, would you find it pleasant to be in -the pay of a gambling hell?" - -"That is neither here nor--" - -"On the contrary, it is, very much. I happen to have some self-respect. -I've only just found it out, it's true, but it's there all right. I -don't want to be a prince--take it from me, it's a much overrated -profession--but if I've got to be one, I'll specialize. I won't combine -it with being a bunco steerer on the side. As long as I am on the -throne, this high-toned crap-shooting will continue a back number." - -"What say?" said the walrus. - -"I said that, while I am on the throne here, people who feel it -necessary to chant 'Come, little seven!' must do it elsewhere." - -"I don't understand you," said Mr. Pugh. "Your remarks are absolutely -unintelligible." - -"Never mind. My actions speak for themselves. It doesn't matter how I -describe it--what it comes to is that the Casino is closed. You can -follow that? Mervo is no longer running wide open. The lid is on." - -"Then let me tell you, sir--" Mr. Pugh brought a bony fist down with a -thump on the table--"that you are playing with fire. Understand me, -sir, we are not here to threaten. We are a peaceful deputation of -visitors. But I have observed your people, sir. I have watched them -narrowly. And let me tell you that you are walking on a volcano. -Already there are signs of grave discontent." - -"Already!" cried John. "Already's good. I guess they call it going some -in this infernal country if they can keep awake long enough to take -action within a year after a thing has happened. I don't know if you -have any influence with the populace, Mr. Pugh--you seem a pretty warm -and important sort of person--but, if you have, do please ask them as a -favor to me to get a move on. It's no good saying that I'm walking on a -volcano. I'm from Missouri. I want to be shown. Let's see this volcano. -Bring it out and make it trot around." - -"You may jest--" - -"Who's jesting? I'm not. It's a mighty serious thing for me. I want to -get away. The only thing that's keeping me in this forsaken place is -this delay. These people are obviously going to fire me sooner or -later. Why on earth can't they do it at once?" - -"What say?" said the walrus. - -"You may well ask, Colonel," said Mr. Pugh, staring amazed at John. -"His Highness appears completely to have lost his senses." - -The walrus looked at John as if expecting some demonstration of -practical insanity, but, finding him outwardly calm, closed his eyes -and nodded heavily again. - -"I must say, don't you know," said Mr. Archer-Cleeve, "it beats me, -what?" - -The entire deputation seemed to consider that John's last speech needed -footnotes. - -John was in no mood to supply them. His patience was exhausted. - -"I guess we'll call this conference finished," he said. "You've been -told all you came to find out,--my reason for closing the Casino. If it -doesn't strike you as a satisfactory reason, that's up to you. Do what -you like about it. The one thing you may take as a solid fact--and you -can spread it around the town as much as ever you please--is that it is -closed, and is not going to be reopened while I'm ruler here." - -The deputation then withdrew, reluctantly. - - * * * * * - -On the following morning there came a note from Mr. Scobell. It was -brief. "Come on down before the shooting begins," it ran. John tore it -up. - -It was on the same evening that definite hostilities may be said to -have begun. - -Between the Palace and the market-place there was a narrow street of -flagged stone, which was busy during the early part of the day but -deserted after sundown. Along this street, at about seven o'clock, John -was strolling with a cigarette, when he was aware of a man crouching, -with his back toward him. So absorbed was the man in something which he -was writing on the stones that he did not hear John's approach, and the -latter, coming up from behind was enabled to see over his shoulder. In -large letters of chalk he read the words: _"Conspuez le Prince."_ - -John's knowledge of French was not profound, but he could understand -this, and it annoyed him. - -As he looked, the man, squatting on his heels, bent forward to touch -up one of the letters. If he had been deliberately posing, he could -not have assumed a more convenient attitude. - -John had been a footballer before he was a prince. The temptation was -too much for him. He drew back his foot-- - -There was a howl and a thud, and John resumed his stroll. The first gun -from Fort Sumter had been fired. - - * * * * * - -Early next morning a window at the rear of the palace was broken by a -stone, and toward noon one of the soldiers on guard in front of the -Casino was narrowly missed by an anonymous orange. For Mervo this was -practically equivalent to the attack on the Bastille, and John, when -the report of the atrocities was brought to him, became hopeful. - -But the effort seemed temporarily to have exhausted the fury of the -mob. The rest of that day and the whole of the next passed without -sensation. - -After breakfast on the following morning Mr. Crump paid a visit to the -Palace. John was glad to see him. The staff of the Palace were loyal, -but considered as cheery companions, they were handicapped by the fact -that they spoke no English, while John spoke no French. - -Mr. Crump was the bearer of another note from Mr. Scobell. This time -John tore it up unread, and, turning to the secretary, invited him to -sit down and make himself at home. - -Sipping a cocktail and smoking one of John's cigars, Mr. Crump became -confidential. - -"This is a queer business," he said. "Old Ben is chewing pieces out of -the furniture up there. He's mad clean through. He's losing money all -the while the people are making up their minds about this thing, and it -beats him why they're so slow." - -"It beats me, too. I don't believe these hook-worm victims ever turned -my father out. Or, if they did, somebody must have injected radium into -them first. I'll give them another couple of days, and, if they haven't -fixed it by then, I'll go, and leave them to do what they like about -it." - -"Go! Do you want to go?" - -"Of course I want to go! Do you think I like stringing along in this -musical comedy island? I'm crazy to get back to America. I don't blame -you, Crump, because it was not your fault, but, by George! if I had -known what you were letting me in for when you carried me off here, I'd -have called up the police reserves. Hello! What's this?" - -He rose to his feet as the sound of agitated voices came from the other -side of the door. The next moment it flew open, revealing General -Poineau and an assorted group of footmen and other domestics. -Excitement seemed to be in the air. - -General Poineau rushed forward into the room, and flung his arms above -his head. Then he dropped them to his side, and shrugged his shoulders, -finishing in an attitude reminiscent of Plate 6 ("Despair") in "The -Home Reciter." - -"_Mon Prince!"_ he moaned. - -A perfect avalanche of French burst from the group outside the door. - -"Crump!" cried John. "Stand by me, Crump! Get busy! This is where you -make your big play. Never mind the chorus gentlemen in the passage. -Concentrate yourself on Poineau. What's he talking about? I believe -he's come to tell me the people have wakened up. Offer him a cocktail. -What's the French for corpse-reviver? Get busy, Crump." - -The general had begun to speak rapidly, with a wealth of gestures. It -astonished John that Mr. Crump could follow the harangue as apparently -he did. - -"Well?" said John. - -Mr. Crump looked grave. - -"He says there is a large mob in the market-place. They are talking--" - -"They would be!" - -"--of moving in force on the Palace. The Palace Guards have gone over -to the people. General Poineau urges you to disguise yourself and -escape while there is time. You will be safe at his villa till the -excitement subsides, when you can be smuggled over to France during the -night--" - -"Not for mine," said John, shaking his head. "It's mighty good of you, -General, and I appreciate it, but I can't wait till night. The boat -leaves for Marseilles in another hour. I'll catch that. I can manage it -comfortably. I'll go up and pack my grip. Crump, entertain the General -while I'm gone, will you? I won't be a moment." - -But as he left the room there came through the open window the mutter -of a crowd. He stopped. General Poineau whipped out his sword, and -brought it to the salute. John patted him on the shoulder. - -"You're a sport, General," he said, "but we sha'n't want it. Come -along, Crump. Come and help me address the multitude." - -The window of the room looked out on to a square. There was a small -balcony with a stone parapet. As John stepped out, a howl of rage burst -from the mob. - -John walked on to the balcony, and stood looking down on them, resting -his arms on the parapet. The howl was repeated, and from somewhere at -the back of the crowd came the sharp crack of a rifle, and a shot, the -first and last of the campaign, clipped a strip of flannel from the -collar of his coat and splashed against the wall. - -A broad smile spread over his face. - -If he had studied for a year, he could not have hit on a swifter or -more effective method of quieting the mob. There was something so -engaging and friendly in his smile that the howling died away and fists -that has been shaken unclenched themselves and fell. There was an -expectant silence in the square. - -John beckoned to Crump, who came on to the balcony with some -reluctance, being mistrustful of the unseen sportsman with the rifle. - -"Tell 'em it's all right, Crump, and that there's no call for any fuss. -From their manner I gather that I am no longer needed on this throne. -Ask them if that's right?" - -A small man, who appeared to be in command of the crowd, stepped -forward as the secretary finished speaking, and shouted some words -which drew a murmur of approval from his followers. - -"He wants to know," interpreted Mr. Crump, "if you will allow the -Casino to open again." - -"Tell him no, but add that I shall be tickled to death to abdicate, if -that's what they want. Speed them up, old man. Tell them to make up -their minds on the jump, because I want to catch that boat. Don't let -them get to discussing it, or they'll stand there talking till sunset. -Yes or no. That's the idea." - -There was a moment's surprised silence when Mr. Crump had spoken. The -Mervian mind was unused to being hustled in this way. Then a voice -shouted, as it were tentatively, "_Vive la Republique!"_ and at -once the cry was taken up on all sides. - -John beamed down on them. - -"That's right," he said. "Bully! I knew you could get a move on as -quick as anyone else, if you gave your minds to it. This is what I call -something like a revolution. It's a model to every country in the -world. But I guess we must close down the entertainment now, or I shall -be missing the boat. Will you tell them, Crump, that any citizen who -cares for a drink and a cigar will find it in the Palace. Tell the -household staff to stand by to pull corks. It's dry work -revolutionizing. And now I really must be going. I've run it mighty -fine. Slip one of these fellows down there half a dollar and send him -to fetch a cab. I must step lively." - - * * * * * - -Five minutes later the revolutionists, obviously embarrassed and ill at -ease, were sheepishly gulping down their refreshment beneath the stony -eye of the majordomo and his assistants, while upstairs in the state -bedroom the deposed Prince was whistling "Dixie" and packing the royal -pajamas into a suitcase. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -MRS. OAKLEY - - -Betty, when she stepped on board the boat for Marseilles, had had no -definite plan of action. She had been caught up and swept away by an -over-mastering desire for escape that left no room in her mind for -thoughts of the morrow. It was not till the train was roaring its way -across southern France that she found herself sufficiently composed to -review her position and make plans. - -She would not go back. She could not. The words she had used in her -letter to Mr. Scobell were no melodramatic rhetoric. They were a plain -and literal statement of the truth. Death would be infinitely -preferable to life at Mervo on her stepfather's conditions. - -But, that settled, what then? What was she to do? The gods are -businesslike. They sell; they do not give. And for what they sell they -demand a heavy price. We may buy life of them in many ways: with our -honor, our health, our independence, our happiness, with our brains or -with our hands. But somehow or other, in whatever currency we may -choose to pay it, the price must be paid. - -Betty faced the problem. What had she? What could she give? Her -independence? That, certainly. She saw now what a mockery that fancied -independence had been. She had come and gone as she pleased, her path -smoothed by her stepfather's money, and she had been accustomed to -consider herself free. She had learned wisdom now, and could understand -that it was only by sacrificing such artificial independence that she -could win through to freedom. The world was a market, and the only -independent people in it were those who had a market value. - -What was her market value? What could she do? She looked back at her -life, and saw that she had dabbled. She had a little of most -things--enough of nothing. She could sketch a little, play a little, -sing a little, write a little. Also--and, as she remembered it, she -felt for the first time a tremor of hope--she could use a typewriter -reasonably well. That one accomplishment stood out in the welter of her -thoughts, solid and comforting, like a rock in a quicksand. It was -something definite, something marketable, something of value for which -persons paid. - -The tremor of hope did not comfort her long. Her mood was critical, and -she saw that in this, her one accomplishment, she was, as in everything -else, an amateur. She could not compete against professionals. She -closed her eyes, and had a momentary vision of those professionals, -keen of face, leathern of finger, rattling out myriads of words at a -dizzy speed. And, at that, all her courage suddenly broke; she drooped -forlornly, and, hiding her face on the cushioned arm-rest, she began to -cry. - -Tears are the Turkish bath of the soul. Nature never intended woman to -pass dry-eyed through crises of emotion. A casual stranger, meeting -Betty on her way to the boat, might have thought that she looked a -little worried,--nothing more. The same stranger, if he had happened to -enter the compartment at this juncture, would have set her down at -sight as broken-hearted beyond recovery. Yet such is the magic of tears -that it was at this very moment that Betty was beginning to be -conscious of a distinct change for the better. Her heart still ached, -and to think of John even for an instant was to feel the knife turning -in the wound, but her brain was clear; the panic fear had gone, and she -faced the future resolutely once more. For she had just remembered the -existence of Mrs. Oakley. - - * * * * * - -Only once in her life had Betty met her stepfather's celebrated aunt, -and the meeting had taken place nearly twelve years ago. The figure -that remained in her memory was of a pale-eyed, grenadier-like old -lady, almost entirely surrounded by clocks. It was these clocks that -had impressed her most. She was too young to be awed by the knowledge -that the tall old woman who stared at her just like a sandy cat she had -once possessed was one of the three richest women in the whole wide -world. She only remembered thinking that the finger which emerged from -the plaid shawl and prodded her cheek was unpleasantly bony. But the -clocks had absorbed her. It was as if all the clocks in the world had -been gathered together into that one room. There had been big clocks, -with almost human faces; small, perky clocks; clocks of strange shape; -and one dingy, medium-sized clock in particular which had made her cry -out with delight. Her visit had chanced to begin shortly before eleven -in the morning, and she had not been in the room ten minutes before -there was a whirring, and the majority of the clocks began to announce -the hour, each after its own fashion--some with a slow bloom, some with -a rapid, bell-like sound. But the medium-sized clock, unexpectedly -belying its appearance of being nothing of particular importance, had -performed its task in a way quite distinct from the others. It had -suddenly produced from its interior a shabby little gold man with a -trumpet, who had blown eleven little blasts before sliding backward -into his house and shutting the door after him. Betty had waited in -rapt silence till he finished, and had then shouted eagerly for more. - -Just as the beginner at golf may effect a drive surpassing that of the -expert, so may a child unconsciously eclipse the practised courtier. -There was no soft side to Mrs. Oakley's character, as thousands of -suave would-be borrowers had discovered in their time, but there was a -soft spot. To general praise of her collection of clocks she was -impervious; it was unique, and she did not require you to tell her so, -but exhibit admiration for the clock with the little trumpeter, and she -melted. It was the one oasis of sentiment in the Sahara of her mental -outlook, the grain of radium in the pitchblende. Years ago it had stood -in a little New England farmhouse, and a child had clapped her hands -and shouted, even as Betty had done, when the golden man slid from his -hiding-place. Much water had flowed beneath the bridge since those -days. Many things had happened to the child. But she still kept her old -love for the trumpeter. The world knew nothing of this. The world, if -it had known, would have been delighted to stand before the clock and -admire it volubly, by the day. But it had no inkling of the trumpeter's -importance, and, when it came to visit Mrs. Oakley, was apt to waste -its time showering compliments on the obvious beauties of the queens of -the collection. - -But Betty, ignoring these, jumped up and down before the dingy clock, -demanding further trumpetings, and, turning to Mrs. Oakley, as one -possessing influence, she was aware of a curious, intent look in the -old lady's eyes. - -"Do you like that clock, my dear?" said Mrs. Oakley. - -"Yes! Oh, yes!" - -"Perhaps you shall have it some day, honey." - -Betty was probably the only person who had been admitted to that room -who would not, on the strength of this remark, have steered the -conversation gently to the subject of a small loan. Instead, she ran to -the old lady, and kissed her. And, as to what had happened after that, -memory was vague. There had been some talk, she remembered, of a dollar -to buy candy, but it had come to nothing, and now that she had grown -older and had read the frequent paragraphs and anecdotes that appeared -in the papers about her stepfather's aunt, she could understand why. -She knew now what everybody knew of Mrs. Oakley--her history, her -eccentricities, and the miserliness of which the papers spoke with a -satirical lightness that seemed somehow but a thin disguise for what -was almost admiration. - -Mrs. Oakley was one of two children, a son and a daughter, of a Vermont -farmer. Of her early life no records remain. Her public history begins -when she was twenty-two and came to New York. After two years' -struggling, she found a position in the firm of one Redgrave. Those who -knew her then speak of her as a tall, handsome girl, hard and intensely -ambitious. From contemporary accounts she seems to have out-Nietzsched -Nietzsche. Nietzsche's vision stopped short at the superman. Jane -Scobell was a superwoman. She had all the titanic selfishness and -indifference to the comfort of others which marks the superman, and, in -addition, undeniable good looks and a knowledge of the weaknesses of -men. Poor Mr. Redgrave had not had a chance from the start. She married -him within a year. Two years later, catching the bulls in an unguarded -moment, Mr. Redgrave despoiled them of a trifle over three million -dollars, and died the same day of an apoplectic stroke caused by the -excitement of victory. His widow, after a tour in Europe, returned to -the United States and visited Pittsburg. Any sociologist will support -the statement that it is difficult, almost impossible, for an -attractive widow, visiting Pittsburg, not to marry a millionaire, even -if she is not particularly anxious to do so. If such an act is the -primary object of her visit, the thing becomes a certainty. Groping -through the smoke, Jane Redgrave seized and carried off no less a -quarry than Alexander Baynes Oakley, a widower, whose income was one of -the seven wonders of the world. In the fullness of time he, too, died, -and Jane Oakley was left with the sole control of two vast fortunes. - -She did not marry again, though it was rumored that it took three -secretaries, working nine hours a day, to cope with the written -proposals, and that butler after butler contracted clergyman's sore -throat through denying admittance to amorous callers. In the ten years -after Alexander Baynes' death, every impecunious aristocrat in the -civilized world must have made his dash for the matrimonial pole. But -her pale eyes looked them over, and dismissed them. - -During those early years she was tempted once or twice to speculation. -A failure in a cotton deal not only cured her of this taste, but seems -to have marked the point in her career when her thoughts began to turn -to parsimony. Until then she had lived in some state, but now, -gradually at first, then swiftly, she began to cut down her expenses. -Now we find her in an apartment in West Central Park, next in a -Washington Square hotel, then in a Harlem flat, and finally--her last, -fixed abiding-place--in a small cottage on Staten Island. - -It was a curious life that she led, this woman who could have bought -kingdoms if she had willed it. A Swedish maid-of-all-work was her only -companion. By day she would walk in her little garden, or dust, arrange -and wind up her clocks. At night, she would knit, or read one of the -frequent reports that arrived at the cottage from charity workers on -the East Side. Those were her two hobbies, and her only -extravagances--clocks and charity. - -Her charity had its limitations. In actual money she expended little. -She was a theoretical philanthropist. She lent her influence, her time, -and her advice, but seldom her bank balance. Arrange an entertainment -for the delectation of the poor, and you would find her on the -platform, but her name would not be on the list of subscribers to the -funds. She would deliver a lecture on thrift to an audience of factory -girls, and she would give them a practical example of what she -preached. - -Yet, with all its limitations, her charity was partly genuine. Her mind -was like a country in the grip of civil war. One-half of her sincerely -pitied the poor, burned at any story of oppression, and cried "Give!" -but the other cried "Halt!" and held her back, and between the two she -fell. - - * * * * * - -It was to this somewhat unpromising haven of refuge that Betty's mind -now turned in her trouble. She did not expect great things. She could -not have said exactly what she did expect. But, at least, the cottage -on Staten Island offered a resting-place on her journey, even if it -could not be the journey's end. Her mad dash from Mervo ceased to be -objectless. It led somewhere. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -A LETTER OF INTRODUCTION - - -New York, revisited, had much the same effect on Betty as it had had on -John during his first morning of independence. As the liner came up the -bay, and the great buildings stood out against the clear blue of the -sky, she felt afraid and lonely. That terror which is said to attack -immigrants on their first sight of the New York sky-line came to her, -as she leaned on the rail, and with it a feeling of utter misery. By a -continual effort during the voyage she had kept her thoughts from -turning to John, but now he rose up insistently before her, and she -realized all that had gone out of her life. - -She rebelled against the mad cruelty of the fate which had brought them -together again. It seemed to her now that she must always have loved -him, but it had been such a vague, gentle thing, this love, before that -last meeting--hardly more than a pleasant accompaniment to her life, -something to think about in idle moments, a help and a support when -things were running crosswise. She had been so satisfied with it, so -content to keep him a mere memory. It seemed so needless and wanton to -destroy her illusion. - -Of love as a wild-beast passion, tearing and torturing quite ordinary -persons like herself, she had always been a little sceptical. The great -love poems of the world, when she read them, had always left her with -the feeling that their authors were of different clay from herself and -had no common meeting ground with her. She had seen her friends fall in -love, as they called it, and it had been very pretty and charming, but -as far removed from the frenzies of the poets as an amateur's snapshot -of Niagara from the cataract itself. Elsa Keith, for instance, was -obviously very fond and proud of Marvin, but she seemed perfectly -placid about it. She loved, but she could still spare half an hour for -the discussion of a new frock. Her soul did not appear to have been -revolutionized in any way. - -Gradually Betty had come to the conclusion that love, in the full sense -of the word, was one of the things that did not happen. And now, as if -to punish her presumption, it had leaped from hiding and seized her. - -There was nothing exaggerated or unintelligible in the poets now. They -ceased to be inhabitants of another world, swayed by curiously complex -emotions. They were her brothers--ordinary men with ordinary feelings -and a strange gift for expressing them. She knew now that it was -possible to hate the man you loved and to love the man you hated, to -ache for the sight of someone even while you fled from him. - -It did not take her long to pass the Customs. A small grip constituted -her entire baggage. Having left this in the keeping of the amiable -proprietor of a near-by delicatessen store, she made her way to the -ferry. - -Her first enquiry brought her to the cottage. Mrs. Oakley was a -celebrity on Staten Island. - -At the door she paused for a moment, then knocked. - -The Swede servant, she who had been there at her former visit, twelve -years ago, received her stolidly. Mrs. Oakley was dusting her clocks. - -"Ask her if she can see me," said Betty. "I'm--" great step-niece -sounded too ridiculous--"I'm her niece," she said. - -The handmaid went and returned, stolid as ever. "Ay tal her vat yu say -about niece, and she say she not knowing any niece," she announced. - -Betty amended the description, and presently the Swede returned once -more, and motioned her to enter. - -Like so many scenes of childhood, the room of the clocks was sharply -stamped on Betty's memory, and, as she came into it now, it seemed to -her that nothing had changed. There were the clocks, all round the -walls, of every shape and size, the big clocks with the human faces and -the small, perky clocks. There was the dingy, medium-sized clock that -held the trumpeter. And there, looking at her with just the old -sandy-cat expression in her pale eyes, was Mrs. Oakley. - -Even the possession of an income of eighteen million dollars and a -unique collection of clocks cannot place a woman above the making of -the obvious remark. - -"How you have grown!" said Mrs. Oakley. - -The words seemed to melt the chill that had gathered around Betty's -heart. She had been prepared to enter into long explanations, and the -knowledge that these would not be required was very comforting. - -"Do you remember me?" she exclaimed. - -"You are the little girl who clapped her hands at the trumpeter, but -you are not little now." - -"I'm not so very big," said Betty, smiling. She felt curiously at home, -and pity for the loneliness of this strange old woman caused her to -forget her own troubles. - -"You look pretty when you smile," said Mrs. Oakley thoughtfully. She -continued to look closely at her. "You are in trouble," she said. - -Betty met her eyes frankly. - -"Yes," she said. - -The old woman bent her head over a Sevres china clock, and stroked it -tenderly with her feather duster. - -"Why did you run away?" she asked without looking up. - -Betty had a feeling that the ground was being cut from beneath her -feet. She had expected to have to explain who she was and why she had -come, and behold, both were unnecessary. It was uncanny. And then the -obvious explanation occurred to her. - -"Did my stepfather cable?" she asked. - -Mrs. Oakley laid down the feather duster and, opening a drawer, -produced some sheets of paper--to the initiated eye plainly one of Mr. -Scobell's lengthy messages. - -"A wickedly extravagant cable," she said, frowning at it. "He could -have expressed himself perfectly well at a quarter of the expense." - -Betty began to read. The dimple on her chin appeared for a moment as -she did so. The tone of the message was so obsequious. There was no -trace of the old peremptory note in it. The words "dearest aunt" -occurred no fewer than six times in the course of the essay, its author -being apparently reckless of the fact that it was costing him half a -dollar a time. Mrs. Oakley had been quite right in her criticism. The -gist of the cable was, "_Betty has run away to America dearest aunt -ridiculous is sure to visit you please dearest aunt do not encourage -her_." The rest was pure padding. - -Mrs. Oakley watched her with a glowering eye. "If Bennie Scobell," she -soliloquized, "imagines that he can dictate to me--" She ceased, -leaving an impressive hiatus. Unhappy Mr. Scobell, convicted of -dictation even after three dollars' worth of "dearest aunt!" - -Betty handed back the cable. Her chin, emblem of war, was tilted and -advanced. - -"I'll tell you why I ran away, Aunt," she said. - -Mrs. Oakley listened to her story in silence. Betty did not relate it -at great length, for with every word she spoke, the thought of John -stabbed her afresh. She omitted much that has been told in this -chronicle. But she disclosed the essential fact, that Napoleonic Mr. -Scobell had tried to force her into a marriage with a man she did -not--she hesitated at the word--did not respect, she concluded. - -Mrs. Oakley regarded her inscrutably for a while before replying. - -"Respect!" she said at last. "I have never met a man in my life whom I -could respect. Harpies! Every one of them! Every one of them! Every one -of them!" - -She was muttering to herself. It is possible that her thoughts were -back with those persevering young aristocrats of her second widowhood. -Certainly, if she had sometimes displayed a touch of the pirate in her -dealings with man, man, it must be said in fairness, had not always -shown his best side to her. - -"Respect!" she muttered again. "Did you like him, this Prince of -yours?" - -Betty's eyes filled. She made no reply. - -"Well, never mind," said Mrs. Oakley. "Don't cry, child! I'm not going -to press you. You must have hated him or else loved him very much, or -you would never have run away.... Dictate to me!" she broke off, -half-aloud, her mind evidently once more on Mr. Scobell's unfortunate -cable. - -Betty could bear it no longer. - -"I loved him!" she cried. "I loved him!" - -She was shaking with dry sobs. She felt the old woman's eyes upon her, -but she could not stop. - -A sudden whirr cut through the silence. One of the large clocks near -the door was beginning to strike the hour. Instantly the rest began to -do the same, till the room was full of the noise. And above the din -there sounded sharp and clear the note of the little trumpet. - -The noise died away with metallic echoings. - -"Honey!" - -It was a changed voice that spoke. Betty looked up, and saw that the -eyes that met hers were very soft. She moved quickly to the old woman's -side. - -"Honey, I'm going to tell you something about myself that nobody dreams -of. Betty, when I was your age, _I_ ran away from a man because I -loved him. It was just a little village tragedy, my dear. I think he -was fond of me, but father was poor and her folks were the great people -of the place, and he married her. And I ran away, like you, and went to -New York." - -Betty pressed her hand. It was trembling. - -"I'm so sorry," she whispered. - -"I went to New York because I wanted to kill my heart. And I killed it. -There's only one way. Work! Work! Work!" She was sitting bolt upright, -and the soft look had gone out of her eyes. They were hard and fiery -under the drawn brows. "Work! Ah, I worked! I never rested. For two -years. Two whole years. It fought back at me. It tore me to bits. But I -wouldn't stop. I worked on, I killed it." - -She stopped, quivering. Betty was cold with a nameless dismay. She felt -as if she were standing in the dark on the brink of an abyss. - -The old woman began to speak again. - -"Child, it's the same with you. Your heart's tearing you. Don't let it! -It will get worse and worse if you are afraid of it. Fight it! Kill it! -Work!" - -She stopped again, clenching and unclenching her fingers, as if she -were strangling some living thing. There was silence for a long moment. - -"What can you do?" she asked suddenly. - -Her voice was calm and unemotional again. The abruptness of the -transition from passion to the practical took Betty aback. She could -not speak. - -"There must be something," continued Mrs. Oakley. "When I was your age -I had taught myself bookkeeping, shorthand, and typewriting. What can -you do? Can you use a typewriter?" - -Blessed word! - -"Yes," said Betty promptly. - -"Well?" - -"Not very well?" - -"H'm. Well, I expect you will do it well enough for Mr. Renshaw--on my -recommendation. I'll give you a letter to him. He is the editor of a -small weekly paper. I don't know how much he will offer you, but take -it and _work!_ You'll find him pleasant. I have met him at charity -organization meetings on the East Side. He's useful at the -entertainments--does conjuring tricks--stupid, but they seem to amuse -people. You'll find him pleasant. There." - -She had been writing the letter of introduction during the course of -these remarks. At the last word she blotted it, and placed it in an -envelope. - -"That's the address," she said. "J. Brabazon Renshaw, Office of -_Peaceful Moments_. Take it to him now. Good-by." - -It was as if she were ashamed of her late display of emotion. She spoke -abruptly, and her pale eyes were expressionless. Betty thanked her and -turned to go. - -"Tell me how you get on," said Mrs. Oakley. - -"Yes," said Betty. - -"And _work_. Keep on working!" - -There was a momentary return of her former manner as she spoke the -words, and Betty wavered. She longed to say something comforting, -something that would show that she understood. - -Mrs. Oakley had taken up the feather duster again. - -"Steena will show you out," she said curtly. And Betty was aware of the -stolid Swede in the doorway. The interview was plainly at an end. - -"Good-by, Aunt," she said, "and thank you ever so much--for -everything." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -"PEACEFUL MOMENTS" - - -The man in the street did not appear to know it, but a great crisis was -imminent in New York journalism. - -Everything seemed much as usual in the city. The cars ran blithely on -Broadway. Newsboys shouted their mystic slogan, "Wuxtry!" with -undiminished vim. Society thronged Fifth Avenue without a furrow on its -brow. At a thousand street corners a thousand policemen preserved their -air of massive superiority to the things of this world. Of all the four -million not one showed the least sign of perturbation. - -Nevertheless, the crisis was at hand. Mr. J. Brabazon Renshaw, -Editor-in-chief of _Peaceful Moments_, was about to leave his post -and start on a three-months' vacation. - -_Peaceful Moments_, as its name (an inspiration of Mr. Renshaw's -own) was designed to imply, was a journal of the home. It was the sort -of paper which the father of the family is expected to take back with -him from the office and read aloud to the chicks before bedtime under -the shade of the rubber plant. - -Circumstances had left the development of the paper almost entirely to -Mr. Renshaw. Its contents were varied. There was a "Moments in the -Nursery" page, conducted by Luella Granville Waterman and devoted -mainly to anecdotes of the family canary, by Jane (aged six), and -similar works of the younger set. There was a "Moments of Meditation" -page, conducted by the Reverend Edwin T. Philpotts; a "Moments among -the Masters" page, consisting of assorted chunks looted from the -literature of the past, when foreheads were bulged and thoughts -profound, by Mr. Renshaw himself; one or two other special pages; a -short story; answers to correspondents on domestic matters; and a -"Moments of Mirth" page, conducted by one B. Henderson Asher--a very -painful affair. - -The proprietor of this admirable journal was that Napoleon of finance, -Mr. Benjamin Scobell. - -That this should have been so is but one proof of the many-sidedness of -that great man. - -Mr. Scobell had founded _Peaceful Moments_ at an early stage in -his career, and it was only at very rare intervals nowadays that he -recollected that he still owned it. He had so many irons in the fire -now that he had no time to waste his brain tissues thinking about a -paper like _Peaceful Moments_. It was one of his failures. It -certainly paid its way and brought him a small sum each year, but to -him it was a failure, a bombshell that had fizzled. - -He had intended to do big things with _Peaceful Moments_. He had -meant to start a new epoch in the literature of Manhattan. - -"I gottan idea," he had said to Miss Scobell. "All this yellow -journalism--red blood and all that--folks are tired of it. They want -something milder. Wholesome, see what I mean? There's money in it. Guys -make a roll too big to lift by selling soft drinks, don't they? Well, -I'm going to run a soft-drink paper. See?" - -The enterprise had started well. To begin with, he had found the ideal -editor. He had met Mr. Renshaw at a down-East gathering presided over -by Mrs. Oakley, and his Napoleonic eye had seen in J. Brabazon the -seeds of domestic greatness. Before they parted, he had come to terms -with him. Nor had the latter failed to justify his intuition. He made -an admirable editor. It was not Mr. Renshaw's fault that the new paper -had failed to electrify America. It was the public on whom the -responsibility for the failure must be laid. They spoiled the whole -thing. Certain of the faithful subscribed, it is true, and continued to -subscribe, but the great heart of the public remained untouched. The -great heart of the public declined to be interested in the meditations -of Mr. Philpotts and the humor of Mr. B. Henderson Asher, and continued -to spend its money along the bad old channels. The thing began to bore -Mr. Scobell. He left the conduct of the journal more and more to Mr. -Renshaw, until finally--it was just after the idea for extracting gold -from sea water had struck him--he put the whole business definitely out -of his mind. (His actual words were that he never wanted to see or hear -of the darned thing again, inasmuch as it gave him a pain in the neck.) -Mr. Renshaw was given a free hand as to the editing, and all matters of -finance connected with the enterprise were placed in the hands of Mr. -Scobell's solicitors, who had instructions to sell the journal, if, as -its owner crisply put it, they could find any chump who was enough of a -darned chump to give real money for it. Up to the present the great -army of chumps had fallen short of this ideal standard of darned -chumphood. - -Ever since this parting of the ways, Mr. Renshaw had been in his -element. Under his guidance _Peaceful Moments_ had reached a level -of domesticity which made other so-called domestic journals look like -sporting supplements. But at last the work had told upon him. Whether -it was the effort of digging into the literature of the past every -week, or the strain of reading B. Henderson Asher's "Moments of Mirth" -is uncertain. At any rate, his labors had ended in wrecking his health -to such an extent that the doctor had ordered him three months' -complete rest, in the woods or mountains, whichever he preferred; and, -being a farseeing man, who went to the root of things, had absolutely -declined to consent to Mr. Renshaw's suggestion that he keep in touch -with the paper during his vacation. He was adamant. He had seen copies -of _Peaceful Moments_ once or twice, and refused to permit a man -in Mr. Renshaw's state of health to come in contact with Luella -Granville Waterman's "Moments in the Nursery" and B. Henderson Asher's -"Moments of Mirth." - -"You must forget that such a paper exists," he said. "You must dismiss -the whole thing from your mind, live in the open, and develop some -flesh and muscle." - -Mr. Renshaw had bowed before the sentence, howbeit gloomily, and now, -on the morning of Betty's departure from Mrs. Oakley's house with the -letter of introduction, was giving his final instructions to his -temporary successor. - -This temporary successor in the editorship was none other than John's -friend, Rupert Smith, late of the _News_. - -Smith, on leaving Harvard, had been attracted by newspaper work, and -had found his first billet on a Western journal of the type whose -society column consists of such items as "Jim Thompson was to town -yesterday with a bunch of other cheap skates. We take this opportunity -of once more informing Jim that he is a liar and a skunk," and whose -editor works with a pistol on his desk and another in his hip-pocket. -Graduating from this, he had proceeded to a reporter's post on a daily -paper in Kentucky, where there were blood feuds and other Southern -devices for preventing life from becoming dull. All this was good, but -even while he enjoyed these experiences, New York, the magnet, had been -tugging at him, and at last, after two eventful years on the Kentucky -paper, he had come East, and eventually won through to the staff of the -_News_. - -His presence in the office of _Peaceful Moments_ was due to the -uncomfortable habit of most of the New York daily papers of cutting -down their staff of reporters during the summer. The dismissed had, to -sustain them, the knowledge that they would return, like the swallows, -anon, and be received back into their old places; but in the meantime -they suffered the inconvenience of having to support themselves as best -they could. Smith, when, in the company of half-a-dozen others, he had -had to leave the _News_, had heard of the vacant post of assistant -editor on _Peaceful Moments_, and had applied for and received it. -Whereby he was more fortunate than some of his late colleagues; though, -as the character of his new work unrolled itself before him, he was -frequently doubtful on that point. For the atmosphere of _Peaceful -Moments_, however wholesome, was certainly not exciting, and his -happened to be essentially a nature that needed the stimulus of -excitement. Even in Park Row, the denizens of which street are rarely -slaves to the conventional and safe, he had a well-established -reputation in this matter. Others of his acquaintances welcomed -excitement when it came to them in the course of the day's work, but it -was Smith's practise to go in search of it. He was a young man of -spirit and resource. - -His appearance, to those who did not know him, hardly suggested this. -He was very tall and thin, with a dark, solemn face. He was a purist in -the matter of clothes, and even in times of storm and stress presented -an immaculate appearance to the world. In his left eye, attached to a -cord, he wore a monocle. - -Through this, at the present moment, he was gazing benevolently at Mr. -Renshaw, as the latter fussed about the office in the throes of -departure. To the editor's rapid fire of advice and warning he listened -with the pleased and indulgent air of a father whose infant son frisks -before him. Mr. Renshaw interested him. To Smith's mind Mr. Renshaw, -put him in any show you pleased, would alone have been worth the price -of admission. - -"Well," chirruped the holiday-maker--he was a little man with a long -neck, and he always chirruped--"Well, I think that is all, Mr. Smith. -Oh, ah, yes! The stenographer. You will need a new stenographer." - -The _Peaceful Moments_ stenographer had resigned her position -three days before, in order to get married. - -"Unquestionably, Comrade Renshaw," said Smith. "A blonde." - -Mr. Renshaw looked annoyed. - -"I have told you before, Mr. Smith, I object to your addressing me as -Comrade. It is not--it is not--er--fitting." - -Smith waved a deprecating hand. - -"Say no more," he said. "I will correct the habit. I have been studying -the principles of Socialism somewhat deeply of late, and I came to the -conclusion that I must join the cause. It looked good to me. You work -for the equal distribution of property, and start in by swiping all you -can and sitting on it. A noble scheme. Me for it. But I am interrupting -you." - -Mr. Renshaw had to pause for a moment to reorganize his ideas. - -"I think--ah, yes. I think it would be best perhaps to wait for a day -or two in case Mrs. Oakley should recommend someone. I mentioned the -vacancy in the office to her, and she said she would give the matter -her attention. I should prefer, if possible, to give the place to her -nominee. She--" - -"--has eighteen million a year," said Smith. "I understand. Scatter -seeds of kindness." - -Mr. Renshaw looked at him sharply. Smith's face was solemn and -thoughtful. - -"Nothing of the kind," the editor said, after a pause. "I should prefer -Mrs. Oakley's nominee because Mrs. Oakley is a shrewd, practical woman -who--er--who--who, in fact--" - -"Just so," said Smith, eying him gravely through the monocle. -"Entirely." - -The scrutiny irritated Mr. Renshaw. - -"Do put that thing away, Mr. Smith," he said. - -"That thing?" - -"Yes, that ridiculous glass. Put it away." - -"Instantly," said Smith, replacing the monocle in his vest-pocket. "You -object to it? Well, well, many people do. We all have these curious -likes and dislikes. It is these clashings of personal taste which -constitute what we call life. Yes. You were saying?" - -Mr. Renshaw wrinkled his forehead. - -"I have forgotten what I intended to say," he said querulously. "You -have driven it out of my head." - -Smith clicked his tongue sympathetically. Mr. Renshaw looked at his -watch. - -"Dear me," he said, "I must be going. I shall miss my train. But I -think I have covered the ground quite thoroughly. You understand -everything?" - -"Absolutely," said Smith. "I look on myself as some engineer -controlling a machine with a light hand on the throttle. Or like some -faithful hound whose master--" - -"Ah! There is just one thing. Mrs. Julia Burdett Parslow is a little -inclined to be unpunctual with her 'Moments with Budding Girlhood.' If -this should happen while I am away, just write her a letter, quite a -pleasant letter, you understand, pointing out the necessity of being in -good time. She must realize that we are a machine." - -"Exactly," murmured Smith. - -"The machinery of the paper cannot run smoothly unless contributors are -in good time with their copy." - -"Precisely," said Smith. "They are the janitors of the literary world. -Let them turn off the steam heat, and where are we? If Mrs. Julia -Burdett Parslow is not up to time with the hot air, how shall our -'Girlhood' escape being nipped in the bud?" - -"And there is just one other thing. I wish you would correct a slight -tendency I have noticed lately in Mr. Asher to be just a trifle--well, -not precisely risky, but perhaps a shade broad in his humor." - -"Young blood!" sighed Smith. "Young blood!" - -"Mr. Asher is a very sensible man, and he will understand. Well, that -is all, I think. Now, I really must be going. Good-by, Mr. Smith." - -"Good-by." - -At the door Mr. Renshaw paused with the air of an exile bidding -farewell to his native land, sighed and trotted out. - -Smith put his feet upon the table, flicked a speck of dust from his -coat-sleeve, and resumed his task of reading the proofs of Luella -Granville Waterman's "Moments in the Nursery." - - * * * * * - -He had not been working long, when Pugsy Maloney, the office boy, -entered. - -"Say!" said Pugsy. - -"Say on, Comrade Maloney." - -"Dere's a loidy out dere wit a letter for Mr. Renshaw." - -"Have you acquainted her with the fact that Mr. Renshaw has passed to -other climes?" - -"Huh?" - -"Have you, in the course of your conversation with this lady, mentioned -that Mr. Renshaw has beaten it?" - -"Sure, I did. And she says can she see you?" - -Smith removed his feet from the table. - -"Certainly," he said. "Who am I that I should deny people these little -treats? Ask her to come in, Comrade Maloney." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -BETTY MAKES A FRIEND - - -Betty had appealed to Master Maloney's esthetic sense of beauty -directly she appeared before him. It was with regret, therefore, rather -than with the usual calm triumph of the office boy, that he informed -her that the editor was not in. Also, seeing that she was evidently -perturbed by the information, he had gone out of his way to suggest -that she lay her business, whatever it might be, before Mr. Renshaw's -temporary successor. - -Smith received her with Old-World courtesy. - -"Will you sit down?" he said. "Not to wait for Comrade Renshaw, of -course. He will not be back for another three months. Perhaps I can -help you. I am acting editor. The work is not light," he added -gratuitously. "Sometimes the cry goes round New York, 'Can Smith get -through it all? Will his strength support his unquenchable spirit?' But -I stagger on. I do not repine. What was it that you wished to see -Comrade Renshaw about?" - -He swung his monocle lightly by its cord. For the first time since she -had entered the office Betty was rather glad that Mr. Renshaw was away. -Conscious of her defects as a stenographer she had been looking forward -somewhat apprehensively to the interview with her prospective employer. -But this long, solemn youth put her at her ease. His manner suggested -in some indefinable way that the whole thing was a sort of round game. - -"I came about the typewriting," she said. - -Smith looked at her with interest. - -"Are you the nominee?" - -"I beg your pardon?" - -"Do you come from Mrs. Oakley?" - -"Yes." - -"Then all is well. The decks have been cleared against your coming. -Consider yourself engaged as our official typist. By the way, -_can_ you type?" - -Betty laughed. This was certainly not the awkward interview she had -been picturing in her mind. - -"Yes," she said, "but I'm afraid I'm not very good at it." - -"Never mind," said Smith. "I'm not very good at editing. Yet here I am. -I foresee that we shall make an ideal team. Together, we will toil -early and late till we whoop up this domestic journal into a shining -model of what a domestic journal should be. What that is, at present, I -do not exactly know. Excursion trains will be run from the Middle West -to see this domestic journal. Visitors from Oshkosh will do it before -going on to Grant's tomb. What exactly is your name?" - -Betty hesitated. Yes, perhaps it would be better. "Brown," she said. - -"Mine is Smith. The smiling child in the outer office is Pugsy Maloney, -one of our most prominent citizens. Homely in appearance, perhaps, but -one of us. You will get to like Comrade Maloney. And now, to touch on a -painful subject--work. Would you care to start in now, or have you any -other engagements? Perhaps you wish to see the sights of this beautiful -little city before beginning? You would prefer to start in now? -Excellent. You could not have come at a more suitable time, for I was -on the very point of sallying out to purchase about twenty-five cents' -worth of lunch. We editors, Comrade Brown, find that our tissues need -constant restoration, such is the strenuous nature of our duties. You -will find one or two letters on that table. Good-by, then, for the -present." - -He picked up his hat, smoothed it carefully and with a courtly -inclination of his head, left the room. - -Betty sat down, and began to think. So she was really earning her own -living! It was a stimulating thought. She felt a little bewildered. She -had imagined something so different. Mrs. Oakley had certainly said -that _Peaceful Moments_ was a small paper, but despite that, her -imagination had conjured up visions of bustle and activity, and a -peremptory, overdriven editor, snapping out words of command. Smith, -with his careful speech and general air of calm detachment from the -noisy side of life, created an atmosphere of restfulness. If this was a -sample of life in the office, she thought, the paper had been well -named. She felt soothed and almost happy. - -Interesting and exciting things, New York things, began to happen at -once. To her, meditating, there entered Pugsy Maloney, the guardian of -the gate of this shrine of Peace, a nonchalant youth of about fifteen, -with a freckled, mask-like face, the expression of which never varied, -bearing in his arms a cat. The cat was struggling violently, but he -appeared quite unconscious of it. Its existence did not seem to occur -to him. - -"Say!" said Pugsy. - -Betty was fond of cats. - -"Oh, don't hurt her!" she cried anxiously. - -Master Maloney eyed the cat as if he were seeing it for the first time. - -"I wasn't hoitin' her," he said, without emotion. "Dere was two fresh -kids in the street sickin' a dawg on to her. And I comes up and says, -'G'wan! What do youse t'ink youse doin', fussin' de poor dumb animal?' -An' one of de guys, he says, 'G'wan! Who do youse t'ink youse is?' An' -I says, 'I'm de guy what's goin' to swat youse on de coco, smarty, if -youse don't quit fussin' de poor dumb animal.' So wit' dat he makes a -break at swattin' me one, but I swats him one, an' I swats de odder -feller one, an' den I swats dem bote some more, an' I gits de kitty, -an' I brings her in here, cos I t'inks maybe youse'll look after her. I -can't be boddered myself. Cats is foolishness." - -And, having finished this Homeric narrative, Master Maloney fixed an -expressionless eye on the ceiling, and was silent. - -"How splendid of you, Pugsy!" cried Betty. "She might have been killed, -poor thing." - -"She had it pretty fierce," admitted Master Maloney, gazing -dispassionately at the rescued animal, which had escaped from his -clutch and taken up a strong position on an upper shelf of the -bookcase. - -"Will you go out and get her some milk, Pugsy? She's probably starving. -Here's a quarter. Will you keep the change?" - -"Sure thing," assented Master Maloney. - -He strolled slowly out, while Betty, mounting a chair, proceeded to -chirrup and snap her fingers in the effort to establish the foundations -of an _entente cordiale_ with the cat. - -By the time Pugsy returned, carrying a five-cent bottle of milk, the -animal had vacated the shelf, and was sitting on the table, polishing -her face. The milk having been poured into the lid of a tobacco tin, in -lieu of a saucer, she suspended her operations and adjourned for -refreshments, Pugsy, having no immediate duties on hand, concentrated -himself on the cat. - -"Say!" he said. - -"Well?" - -"Dat kitty. Pipe de leather collar she's wearin'." - -Betty had noticed earlier in the proceedings that a narrow leather -collar encircled the animal's neck. - -"Guess I know where dat kitty belongs. Dey all has dose collars. I -guess she's one of Bat Jarvis's kitties. He's got twenty-t'ree of dem, -and dey all has dose collars." - -"Bat Jarvis?" - -"Sure." - -"Who is he?" - -Pugsy looked at her incredulously. - -"Say! Ain't youse never heard of Bat Jarvis? He's--he's Bat Jarvis." - -"Do you know him?" - -"Sure, I knows him." - -"Does he live near here?" - -"Sure, he lives near here." - -"Then I think the best thing for you to do is to run round and tell him -that I am taking care of his cat, and that he had better come and fetch -it. I must be getting on with my work, or I shall never finish it." - -She settled down to type the letters Smith had indicated. She attacked -her task cautiously. She was one of those typists who are at their best -when they do not have to hurry. - -She was putting the finishing touches to the last of the batch, when -there was a shuffling of feet in the outer room, followed by a knock on -the door. The next moment there entered a short, burly young man, -around whom there hung, like an aroma, an indescribable air of -toughness, partly due, perhaps, to the fact that he wore his hair in a -well-oiled fringe almost down to his eyebrows, thus presenting the -appearance of having no forehead at all. His eyes were small and set -close together. His mouth was wide, his jaw prominent. Not, in short, -the sort of man you would have picked out on sight as a model citizen. -He blinked furtively, as his eyes met Betty's, and looked round the -room. His face lighted up as he saw the cat. - -"Say!" he said, stepping forward, and touching the cat's collar. -"Ma'am, mine!" - -"Are you Mr. Jarvis?" asked Betty. - -The visitor nodded, not without a touch of complacency, as of a monarch -abandoning his incognito. - -For Mr. Jarvis was a celebrity. - -By profession he was a dealer in animals, birds, and snakes. He had a -fancier's shop on Groome Street, in the heart of the Bowery. This was -on the ground floor. His living abode was in the upper story of that -house, and it was there that he kept the twenty-three cats whose necks -were adorned with leather collars. - -But it was not the fact that he possessed twenty-three cats with -leather collars that had made Mr. Jarvis a celebrity. A man may win a -local reputation, if only for eccentricity, by such means. Mr. Jarvis' -reputation was far from being purely local. Broadway knew him, and the -Tenderloin. Tammany Hall knew him. Long Island City knew him. For Bat -Jarvis was the leader of the famous Groome Street Gang, the largest and -most influential of the four big gangs of the East Side. - -To Betty, so little does the world often know of its greatest men, he -was merely a decidedly repellent-looking young man in unbecoming -clothes. But his evident affection for the cat gave her a feeling of -fellowship toward him. She beamed upon him, and Mr. Jarvis, who was -wont to face the glare of rivals without flinching, avoided her eye and -shuffled with embarrassment. - -"I'm so glad she's safe!" said Betty. "There were two boys teasing her -in the street. I've been giving her some milk." - -Mr. Jarvis nodded, with his eyes on the floor. - -There was a pause. Then he looked up, and, fixing his gaze some three -feet above her head, spoke. - -"Say!" he said, and paused again. Betty waited expectantly. - -He relaxed into silence again, apparently thinking. - -"Say!" he said. "Ma'am, obliged. Fond of de kit. I am." - -"She's a dear," said Betty, tickling the cat under the ear. - -"Ma'am," went on Mr. Jarvis, pursuing his theme, "obliged. Sha'n't -fergit it. Any time you're in bad, glad to be of service. Bat Jarvis. -Groome Street. Anybody'll show youse where I live." - -He paused, and shuffled his feet; then, tucking the cat more firmly -under his arm, left the room. Betty heard him shuffling downstairs. - -He had hardly gone, when the door opened again, and Smith came in. - -"So you have had company while I was away?" he said. "Who was the -grandee with the cat? An old childhood's friend? Was he trying to sell -the animal to us?" - -"That was Mr. Bat Jarvis," said Betty. - -Smith looked interested. - -"Bat! What was he doing here?" - -Betty related the story of the cat. Smith nodded thoughtfully. - -"Well," he said, "I don't know that Comrade Jarvis is precisely the -sort of friend I would go out of my way to select. Still, you never -know what might happen. He might come in useful. And now, let us -concentrate ourselves tensely on this very entertaining little journal -of ours, and see if we cannot stagger humanity with it." - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -A CHANGE OF POLICY - - -The feeling of tranquillity which had come to Betty on her first -acquaintance with _Peaceful Moments_ seemed to deepen as the days -went by, and with each day she found the sharp pain at her heart less -vehement. It was still there, but it was dulled. The novelty of her -life and surroundings kept it in check. New York is an egotist. It will -suffer no divided attention. "Look at me!" says the voice of the city -imperiously, and its children obey. It snatches their thoughts from -their inner griefs, and concentrates them on the pageant that rolls -unceasingly from one end of the island to the other. One may despair in -New York, but it is difficult to brood on the past; for New York is the -City of the Present, the City of Things that are Going On. - -To Betty everything was new and strange. Her previous acquaintance with -the metropolis had not been extensive. Mr. Scobell's home--or, rather, -the house which he owned in America--was on the outskirts of -Philadelphia, and it was there that she had lived when she was not -paying visits. Occasionally, during horse-show week, or at some other -time of festivity, she had spent a few days with friends who lived in -Madison or upper Fifth Avenue, but beyond that, New York was a closed -book to her. - -It would have been a miracle in the circumstances, if John and Mervo -and the whole of the events since the arrival of the great cable had -not to some extent become a little dream-like. When she was alone at -night, and had leisure to think, the dream became a reality once more; -but in her hours of work, or what passed for work in the office of -_Peaceful Moments_, and in the hours she spent walking about the -streets and observing the ways of this new world of hers, it faded. -Everything was so bright and busy! Every moment had its fresh interest. - -And, above all, there was the sense of adventure. She was twenty-four; -she had health and an imagination; and almost unconsciously she was -stimulated by the thrill of being for the first time in her life -genuinely at large. The child's love of hiding dies hard in us. To -Betty, to walk abroad in New York in the midst of hurrying crowds, just -Betty Brown--one of four million and no longer the beautiful Miss -Silver of the society column, was to taste the romance of disguise, or -invisibility. - -During office hours she came near to complete contentment. To an expert -stenographer the amount of work to be done would have seemed -ridiculously small, but Betty, who liked plenty of time for a task, -generally managed to make it last comfortably through the day. - -This was partly owing to the fact that her editor, when not actually at -work himself, was accustomed to engage her in conversation, and to keep -her so engaged until the entrance of Pugsy Maloney heralded the arrival -of some caller. - -Betty liked Smith. His odd ways, his conversation, and his extreme -solicitude for his clothes amused her. She found his outlook on life -refreshing. Smith was an optimist. Whatever cataclysm might occur, he -never doubted for a moment that he would be comfortably on the summit -of the debris when all was over. He amazed Betty with his stories of -his reportorial adventures. He told them for the most part as humorous -stories at his own expense, but the fact remained that in a -considerable proportion of them he had only escaped a sudden and -violent death by adroitness or pure good luck. His conversation opened -up a new world to Betty. She began to see that in America, and -especially in New York, anything may happen to anybody. She looked on -Smith with new eyes. - -"But surely all this," she said one morning, after he had come to the -end of the story of a highly delicate piece of interviewing work in -connection with some Cumberland Mountains feudists, "surely all this--" -She looked round the room. - -"Domesticity?" suggested Smith. - -"Yes," said Betty. "Surely it all seems rather tame to you?" - -Smith sighed. - -"Comrade Brown," he said, "you have touched the spot with an unerring -finger." - -Since Mr. Renshaw's departure, the flatness of life had come home to -Smith with renewed emphasis. Before, there had always been the quiet -entertainment of watching the editor at work, but now he was feeling -restless. Like John at Mervo, he was practically nothing but an -ornament. _Peaceful Moments_, like Mervo, had been set rolling and -had continued to roll on almost automatically. The staff of regular -contributors sent in their various pages. There was nothing for the man -in charge to do. Mr. Renshaw had been one of those men who have a -genius for being as busy over nothing as if it were some colossal work, -but Smith had not that gift. He liked something that he could grip and -that gripped him. He was becoming desperately bored. He felt like a -marooned sailor on a barren rock of domesticity. - -A visitor who called at the office at this time did nothing to remove -this sensation of being outside everything that made life worth living. -Betty, returning to the office one afternoon, found Smith in the -doorway, just parting from a thickset young man. There was a rather -gloomy expression on the thickset young man's face. - -Smith, too, she noted, when they were back in the inner office, seemed -to have something on his mind. He was strangely silent. - -"Comrade Brown," he said at last, "I wish this little journal of ours -had a sporting page." - -Betty laughed. - -"Less ribaldry," protested Smith pained. "This is a sad affair. You saw -the man I was talking to? That was Kid Brady. I used to know him when I -was out West. He wants to fight anyone in the country at a hundred and -thirty-three pounds. We all have our hobbies. That is Comrade Brady's." - -"Is he a boxer?" - -"He would like to be. Out West, nobody could touch him. He's in the -championship class. But he has been pottering about New York for a -month without being able to get a fight. If we had a sporting page on -_Peaceful Moments_ we could do him some good, but I don't see how -we can write him up," said Smith, picking up a copy of the paper, and -regarding it gloomily, "in 'Moments in the Nursery' or 'Moments with -Budding Girlhood.'" - -He put up his eyeglass, and stared at the offending journal with the -air of a vegetarian who has found a caterpillar in his salad. -Incredulity, dismay, and disgust fought for precedence in his -expression. - -"B. Henderson Asher," he said severely, "ought to be in some sort of a -home. Cain killed Abel for telling him that story." - -He turned to another page, and scrutinized it with deepening gloom. - -"Is Luella Granville Waterman by any chance a friend of yours, Comrade -Brown? No? I am glad. For it seems to me that for sheer, concentrated -piffle, she is in a class by herself." - -He read on for a few moments in silence, then looked up and fixed Betty -with his monocle. There was righteous wrath in his eyes. - -"And people," he said, "are paying money for this! _Money!_ Even -now they are sitting down and writing checks for a year's subscription. -It isn't right! It's a skin game. I am assisting in a carefully planned -skin game!" - -"But perhaps they like it," suggested Betty. - -Smith shook his head. - -"It is kind of you to try and soothe my conscience, but it is useless. -I see my position too clearly. Think of it, Comrade Brown! Thousands of -poor, doddering, half-witted creatures in Brooklyn and Flatbush, who -ought not really to have control of their own money at all, are getting -buncoed out of whatever it is per annum in exchange for--how shall I -put it in a forcible yet refined and gentlemanly manner?--for cat's -meat of this description. Why, selling gold bricks is honest compared -with it. And I am temporarily responsible for the black business!" - -He extended a lean hand with melodramatic suddenness toward Betty. The -unexpectedness of the movement caused her to start back in her chair -with a little exclamation of surprise. Smith nodded with a kind of -mournful satisfaction. - -"Exactly!" he said. "As I expected! You shrink from me. You avoid my -polluted hand. How could it be otherwise? A conscientious green-goods -man would do the same." He rose from his seat. "Your attitude," he -said, "confirms me in a decision that has been in my mind for some -days. I will no longer calmly accept this terrible position. I will try -to make amends. While I am in charge, I will give our public something -worth reading. All these Watermans and Ashers and Parslows must go!" - -"Go!" - -"Go!" repeated Smith firmly. "I have been thinking it over for days. -You cannot look me in the face, Comrade Brown, and say that there is a -single feature which would not be better away. I mean in the paper, not -in my face. Every one of these punk pages must disappear. Letters must -be despatched at once, informing Julia Burdett Parslow and the others, -and in particular B. Henderson Asher, who, on brief acquaintance, -strikes me as an ideal candidate for a lethal chamber--that, unless -they cease their contributions instantly, we shall call up the police -reserves. Then we can begin to move." - -Betty, like most of his acquaintances, seldom knew whether Smith was -talking seriously or not. She decided to assume, till he should dismiss -the idea, that he meant what he said. - -"But you can't!" she exclaimed. - -"With your kind cooperation, nothing easier. You supply the mechanical -work. I will compose the letters. First, B. Henderson Asher. 'Dear -Sir'--" - -"But--" she fell back on her original remark--"but you can't. What will -Mr. Renshaw say when he comes back?" - -"Sufficient unto the day. I have a suspicion that he will be the -first to approve. His vacation will have made him see things -differently--purified him, as it were. His conscience will be alive -once more." - -"But--" - -"Why should we worry ourselves because the end of this venture is -wrapped in obscurity? Why, Columbus didn't know where he was going to -when he set out. All he knew was some highly interesting fact about an -egg. What that was, I do not at the moment recall, but I understand it -acted on Columbus like a tonic. We are the Columbuses of the -journalistic world. Full steam ahead, and see what happens. If Comrade -Renshaw is not pleased, why, I shall have been a martyr to a good -cause. It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done, -so to speak. Why should I allow possible inconvenience to myself to -stand in the way of the happiness which we propose to inject into those -Brooklyn and Flatbush homes? Are you ready then, once more? 'Dear -Sir--'" - -Betty gave in. - -When the letters were finished, she made one more objection. - -"They are certain to call here and make a fuss," she said, "Mr. Asher -and the rest." - -"You think they will not bear the blow with manly fortitude?" - -"I certainly do. And I think it's hard on them, too. Suppose they -depend for a living on what they make from _Peaceful Moments?_" - -"They don't," said Smith reassuringly. "I've looked into that. Have no -pity for them. They are amateurs--degraded creatures of substance who -take the cocktails out of the mouths of deserving professionals. B. -Henderson Asher, for instance, is largely interested in gents' -haberdashery. And so with the others. We touch their pride, perhaps, -but not their purses." - -Betty's soft heart was distinctly relieved by the information. - -"I see," she said. "But suppose they do call, what will you do? It will -be very unpleasant." - -Smith pondered. - -"True," he said. "True. I think you are right there. My nervous system -is so delicately attuned that anything in the shape of a brawl would -reduce it to a frazzle. I think that, for this occasion only, we will -promote Comrade Maloney to the post of editor. He is a stern, hard, -rugged man who does not care how unpopular he is. Yes, I think that -would be best." - -He signed the letters with a firm hand, "per pro P. Maloney, editor." - -Then he lit a cigarette, and leaned back in his chair. - -"An excellent morning's work," he said. "Already I begin to feel the -dawnings of a new self-respect." - -Betty, thinking the thing over, a little dazed by the rapidity of -Smith's method of action, had found a fresh flaw in the scheme. - -"If you send Mr. Asher and the others away, how are you going to bring -the paper out at all? You can't write it all yourself." - -Smith looked at her with benevolent admiration. - -"She thinks of everything," he murmured. "That busy brain is never -still. No, Comrade Brown, I do not propose to write the whole paper -myself. I do not shirk work when it gets me in a corner and I can't -side-step, but there are limits. I propose to apply to a few of my late -companions of Park Row, bright boys who will be delighted to come -across with red-hot stuff for a moderate fee." - -"And the proprietor of the paper? Won't he make any objection?" - -Smith shook his head with a touch of reproof. - -"You seem determined to try to look on the dark side. Do you insinuate -that we are not acting in the proprietor's best interests? When he gets -his check for the receipts, after I have handled the paper awhile, he -will go singing about the streets. His beaming smile will be a byword. -Visitors will be shown it as one of the sights. His only doubt will be -whether to send his money to the bank or keep it in tubs and roll in -it. And anyway," he added, "he's in Europe somewhere, and never sees -the paper, sensible man." - -He scratched a speck of dust off his coat-sleeve with his finger nail. - -"This is a big thing," he resumed. "Wait till you see the first number -of the new series. My idea is that _Peaceful Moments_ shall become -a pretty warm proposition. Its tone shall be such that the public will -wonder why we do not print it on asbestos. We shall comment on all the -live events of the week--murders, Wall Street scandals, glove fights, -and the like, in a manner which will make our readers' spines thrill. -Above all, we shall be the guardians of the people's rights. We shall -be a spot light, showing up the dark places and bringing into -prominence those who would endeavor in any way to put the people in -Dutch. We shall detect the wrongdoer, and hand him such a series of -resentful wallops that he will abandon his little games and become a -model citizen. In this way we shall produce a bright, readable little -sheet which will make our city sit up and take notice. I think so. I -think so. And now I must be hustling about and seeing our new -contributors. There is no time to waste." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE HONEYED WORD - - -The offices of Peaceful Moments were in a large building in a street -off Madison Avenue. They consisted of a sort of outer lair, where Pugsy -Maloney spent his time reading tales of life on the prairies and -heading off undesirable visitors; a small room, into which desirable -but premature visitors were loosed, to wait their turn for admission -into the Presence; and a larger room beyond, which was the editorial -sanctum. - -Smith, returning from luncheon on the day following his announcement of -the great change, found both Betty and Pugsy waiting in the outer lair, -evidently with news of import. - -"Mr. Smith," began Betty. - -"Dey're in dere," said Master Maloney with his customary terseness. - -"Who, exactly?" asked Smith. - -"De whole bunch of dem." - -Smith inspected Pugsy through his eyeglass. "Can you give me any -particulars?" he asked patiently. "You are well-meaning, but vague, -Comrade Maloney. Who are in there?" - -"About 'steen of dem!" said Pugsy. - -"Mr. Asher," said Betty, "and Mr. Philpotts, and all the rest of them." -She struggled for a moment, but, unable to resist the temptation, -added, "I told you so." - -A faint smile appeared upon Smith's face. - -"Dey just butted in," said Master Maloney, resuming his narrative. "I -was sittin' here, readin' me book, when de foist of de guys blows in. -'Boy,' says he, 'is de editor in?' 'Nope,' I says. 'I'll go in and -wait,' says he. 'Nuttin' doin',' says I. 'Nix on de goin'-in act.' I -might as well have saved me breat! In he butts. In about t'ree minutes -along comes another gazebo. 'Boy,' says he, 'is de editor in?' 'Nope,' -I says. 'I'll wait,' says he, lightin' out for de door, and in he -butts. Wit' dat I sees de proposition's too fierce for muh. I can't -keep dese big husky guys out if dey bucks center like dat. So when de -rest of de bunch comes along, I don't try to give dem de trun down. I -says, 'Well, gent,' I says, 'it's up to youse. De editor ain't in, but, -if you feels lonesome, push t'roo. Dere's plenty dere to keep youse -company. I can't be boddered!'" - -"And what more could you have said?" agreed Smith approvingly. "Tell -me, did these gentlemen appear to be gay and light-hearted, or did they -seem to be looking for someone with a hatchet?" - -"Dey was hoppin' mad, de whole bunch of dem." - -"Dreadfully," attested Betty. - -"As I suspected," said Smith, "but we must not repine. These trifling -contretemps are the penalties we pay for our high journalistic aims. I -fancy that with the aid of the diplomatic smile and the honeyed word I -may manage to win out. Will you come and give me your moral support, -Comrade Brown?" - -He opened the door of the inner room for Betty, and followed her in. - -Master Maloney's statement that "about 'steen" visitors had arrived -proved to be a little exaggerated. There were five men in the room. - -As Smith entered, every eye was turned upon him. To an outside -spectator he would have seemed rather like a very well-dressed Daniel -introduced into a den of singularly irritable lions. Five pairs of eyes -were smoldering with a long-nursed resentment. Five brows were -corrugated with wrathful lines. Such, however, was the simple majesty -of Smith's demeanor that for a moment there was dead silence. Not a -word was spoken as he paced, wrapped in thought, to the editorial -chair. Stillness brooded over the room as he carefully dusted that -piece of furniture, and, having done so to his satisfaction, hitched up -the knees of his trousers and sank gracefully into a sitting position. - -This accomplished, he looked up and started. He gazed round the room. - -"Ha! I am observed!" he murmured. - -The words broke the spell. Instantly the five visitors burst -simultaneously into speech. - -"Are you the acting editor of this paper?" - -"I wish to have a word with you, sir." - -"Mr. Maloney, I presume?" - -"Pardon me!" - -"I should like a few moments' conversation." - -The start was good and even, but the gentleman who said "Pardon me!" -necessarily finished first, with the rest nowhere. - -Smith turned to him, bowed, and fixed him with a benevolent gaze -through his eyeglass. - -"Are you Mr. Maloney, may I ask?" enquired the favored one. - -The others paused for the reply. Smith shook his head. "My name is -Smith." - -"Where is Mr. Maloney?" - -Smith looked across at Betty, who had seated herself in her place by -the typewriter. - -"Where did you tell me Mr. Maloney had gone to, Miss Brown? Ah, well, -never mind. Is there anything _I_ can do for you, gentlemen? I am -on the editorial staff of this paper." - -"Then, maybe," said a small, round gentleman who, so far, had done only -chorus work, "you can tell me what all this means? My name is Waterman, -sir. I am here on behalf of my wife, whose name you doubtless know." - -"Correct me if I am wrong," said Smith, "but I should say it, also, was -Waterman." - -"Luella Granville Waterman, sir!" said the little man proudly. "My -wife," he went on, "has received this extraordinary communication from -a man signing himself P. Maloney. We are both at a loss to make head or -tail of it." - -"It seems reasonably clear to me," said Smith, reading the letter. - -"It's an outrage. My wife has been a contributor to this journal since -its foundation. We are both intimate friends of Mr. Renshaw, to whom my -wife's work has always given complete satisfaction. And now, without -the slightest warning, comes this peremptory dismissal from P. Maloney. -Who is P. Maloney? Where is Mr. Renshaw?" - -The chorus burst forth. It seemed that that was what they all wanted to -know. Who was P. Maloney? Where was Mr. Renshaw? - -"I am the Reverend Edwin T. Philpott, sir," said a cadaverous-looking -man with light blue eyes and a melancholy face. "I have contributed -'Moments of Meditation' to this journal for some considerable time." - -Smith nodded. - -"I know, yours has always seemed to me work which the world will not -willingly let die." - -The Reverend Edwin's frosty face thawed into a bleak smile. - -"And yet," continued Smith, "I gather that P. Maloney, on the other -hand, actually wishes to hurry on its decease. Strange!" - -A man in a serge suit, who had been lurking behind Betty, bobbed into -the open. - -"Where's this fellow Maloney? P. Maloney. That's the man we want to -see. I've been working for this paper without a break, except when I -had the grip, for four years, and now up comes this Maloney fellow, if -you please, and tells me in so many words that the paper's got no use -for me." - -"These are life's tragedies," sighed Smith. - -"What does he mean by it? That's what I want to know. And that's what -these gentlemen want to know. See here--" - -"I am addressing--" said Smith. - -"Asher's my name. B. Henderson Asher. I write 'Moments of Mirth.'" - -A look almost of excitement came into Smith's face, such a look as a -visitor to a foreign land might wear when confronted with some great -national monument. He stood up and shook Mr. Asher reverently by the -hand. - -"Gentlemen," he said, reseating himself, "this is a painful case. The -circumstances, as you will admit when you have heard all, are peculiar. -You have asked me where Mr. Renshaw is. I don't know." - -"You don't know!" exclaimed Mr. Asher. - -"Nobody knows. With luck you may find a black cat in a coal cellar on a -moonless night, but not Mr. Renshaw. Shortly after I joined this -journal, he started out on a vacation, by his doctor's orders, and left -no address. No letters were to be forwarded. He was to enjoy complete -rest. Who can say where he is now? Possibly racing down some rugged -slope in the Rockies with two grizzlies and a wildcat in earnest -pursuit. Possibly in the midst of Florida Everglades, making a noise -like a piece of meat in order to snare alligators. Who can tell?" - -Silent consternation prevailed among his audience. - -"Then, do you mean to say," demanded Mr. Asher, "that this fellow -Maloney's the boss here, and that what he says goes?" - -Smith bowed. - -"Exactly. A man of intensely masterful character, he will brook no -opposition. I am powerless to sway him. Suggestions from myself as to -the conduct of the paper would infuriate him. He believes that radical -changes are necessary in the policy of _Peaceful Moments_, and he -will carry them through if it snows. Doubtless he would gladly consider -your work if it fitted in with his ideas. A rapid-fire impression of a -glove fight, a spine-shaking word picture of a railway smash, or -something on those lines, would be welcomed. But--" - -"I have never heard of such a thing," said Mr. Waterman indignantly. - -"In this life," said Smith, shaking his head, "we must be prepared for -every emergency. We must distinguish between the unusual and the -impossible. It is unusual for the acting editor of a weekly paper to -revolutionize its existing policy, and you have rashly ordered your -life on the assumption that it is impossible. You are unprepared. The -thing comes on you as a surprise. The cry goes round New York, -'Comrades Asher, Waterman, Philpotts, and others have been taken -unawares. They cannot cope with the situation.'" - -"But what is to be done?" cried Mr. Asher. - -"Nothing, I fear, except to wait. It may be that when Mr. Renshaw, -having dodged the bears and eluded the wildcat, returns to his post, he -will decide not to continue the paper on the lines at present mapped -out. He should be back in about ten weeks." - -"Ten weeks!" - -"Till then, the only thing to do is to wait. You may rely on me to keep -a watchful eye on your interests. When your thoughts tend to take a -gloomy turn say to yourselves, 'All is well. Smith is keeping a -watchful eye on our interests.'" - -"All the same, I should like to see this P. Maloney," said Mr. Asher. - -"I shouldn't," said Smith. "I speak in your best interests. P. Maloney -is a man of the fiercest passions. He cannot brook interference. If you -should argue with him, there is no knowing what might not happen. He -would be the first to regret any violent action, when once he had -cooled off, but-- Of course, if you wish it I could arrange a meeting. -No? I think you are wise. And now, gentlemen, as I have a good deal of -work to get through-- - -"All very disturbing to the man of culture and refinement," said Smith, -as the door closed behind the last of the malcontents. "But I think -that we may now consider the line clear. I see no further obstacle in -our path. I fear I have made Comrade Maloney perhaps a shade unpopular -with our late contributors, but these things must be. We must clench -our teeth and face them manfully. He suffers in an excellent cause." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -TWO VISITORS TO THE OFFICE - - -There was once an editor of a paper in the Far West who was sitting at -his desk, musing pleasantly on life, when a bullet crashed through the -window and imbedded itself in the wall at the back of his head. A happy -smile lighted up the editor's face. "Ah!" he said complacently, "I knew -that personal column of ours would make a hit!" - -What the bullet was to the Far West editor, the visit of Mr. Martin -Parker to the offices of _Peaceful Moments_ was to Smith. - -It occurred shortly after the publication of the second number of the -new series, and was directly due to Betty's first and only suggestion -for the welfare of the paper. - -If the first number of the series had not staggered humanity, it had at -least caused a certain amount of comment. The warm weather had begun, -and there was nothing much going on in New York. The papers were -consequently free to take notice of the change in the policy of -_Peaceful Moments_. Through the agency of Smith's newspaper -friends, it received some very satisfactory free advertisement, and the -sudden increase in the sales enabled Smith to bear up with fortitude -against the numerous letters of complaint from old subscribers who did -not know what was good for them. Visions of a large new public which -should replace these Brooklyn and Flatbush ingrates filled his mind. - -The sporting section of the paper pleased him most. The personality of -Kid Brady bulked large in it. A photograph of the ambitious pugilist, -looking moody and important in an attitude of self-defense, filled half -a page, and under the photograph was the legend, "Jimmy Garvin must -meet this boy." Jimmy was the present holder of the light-weight title. -He had won it a year before, and since then had confined himself to -smoking cigars as long as walking sticks and appearing nightly in a -vaudeville sketch entitled, "A Fight for Honor." His reminiscences were -being published in a Sunday paper. It was this that gave Smith the idea -of publishing Kid Brady's autobiography in _Peaceful Moments_, an -idea which won the Kid's whole-hearted gratitude. Like most pugilists -he had a passion for bursting into print. Print is the fighter's -accolade. It signifies that he has arrived. He was grateful to Smith, -too, for not editing his contributions. Jimmy Garvin groaned under the -supervision of a member of the staff of his Sunday paper, who deleted -his best passages and altered the rest into Addisonian English. The -readers of _Peaceful Moments_ got their Brady raw. - -"Comrade Brady," said Smith meditatively to Betty one morning, "has a -singularly pure and pleasing style. It is bound to appeal powerfully to -the many-headed. Listen to this. Our hero is fighting one Benson in the -latter's home town, San Francisco, and the audience is rooting hard for -the native son. Here is Comrade Brady on the subject: 'I looked around -that house, and I seen I hadn't a friend in it. And then the gong goes, -and I says to myself how I has one friend, my old mother down in -Illinois, and I goes in and mixes it, and then I seen Benson losing his -goat, so I gives him a half-scissor hook, and in the next round I picks -up a sleep-producer from the floor and hands it to him, and he takes -the count.' That is what the public wants. Crisp, lucid, and to the -point. If that does not get him a fight with some eminent person, -nothing will." - -He leaned back in his chair. - -"What we really need now," he said thoughtfully, "is a good, honest, -muck-raking series. That's the thing to put a paper on the map. The -worst of it is that everything seems to have been done. Have you by any -chance a second 'Frenzied Finance' at the back of your mind? Or proofs -that nut sundaes are composed principally of ptomaine and outlying -portions of the American workingman? It would be the making of us." - -Now it happened that in the course of her rambles through the city -Betty had lost herself one morning in the slums. The experience had -impressed itself on her mind with an extraordinary vividness. Her lot -had always been cast in pleasant places, and she had never before been -brought into close touch with this side of life. The sight of actual -raw misery had come home to her with an added force from that -circumstance. Wandering on, she had reached a street which eclipsed in -cheerlessness even its squalid neighbors. All the smells and noises of -the East Side seemed to be penned up here in a sort of canyon. The -masses of dirty clothes hanging from the fire-escapes increased the -atmosphere of depression. Groups of ragged children covered the -roadway. - -It was these that had stamped the scene so indelibly on her memory. She -loved children, and these seemed so draggled and uncared-for. - -Smith's words gave her an idea. - -"Do you know Broster Street, Mr. Smith?" she asked. - -"Down on the East Side? Yes, I went there once to get a story, one -red-hot night in August, when I was on the _News_. The Ice Company -had been putting up their prices, and trouble was expected down there. -I was sent to cover it." - -He did not add that he had spent a week's salary that night, buying ice -and distributing it among the denizens of Broster Street. - -"It's an awful place," said Betty, her eyes filling with tears. "Those -poor children!" - -Smith nodded. - -"Some of those tenement houses are fierce," he said thoughtfully. Like -Betty, he found himself with a singularly clear recollection of his one -visit to Broster Street. "But you can't do anything." - -"Why not?" cried Betty. "Oh, why not? Surely you couldn't have a better -subject for your series? It's wicked. People only want to be told about -them to make them better. Why can't we draw attention to them?" - -"It's been done already. Not about Broster Street, but about other -tenements. Tenements as a subject are played out. The public isn't -interested in them. Besides, it wouldn't be any use. You can't tree the -man who is really responsible, unless you can spend thousands scaring -up evidence. The land belongs in the first place to some corporation or -other. They lease it to a lessee. When there's a fuss, they say they -aren't responsible, it's up to the lessee. And he, bright boy, lies so -low you can't find out who it is." - -"But we could try," urged Betty. - -Smith looked at her curiously. The cause was plainly one that lay near -to her heart. Her face was flushed and eager. He wavered, and, having -wavered, he did what no practical man should do. He allowed sentiment -to interfere with business. He knew that a series of articles on -Broster Street would probably be so much dead weight on the paper, -something to be skipped by the average reader, but he put the thought -aside. - -"Very well," he said. "If you care to turn in a few crisp remarks on -the subject, I'll print them." - -Betty's first instalment was ready on the following morning. It was a -curious composition. A critic might have classed it with Kid Brady's -reminiscences, for there was a complete absence of literary style. It -was just a wail of pity, and a cry of indignation, straight from the -heart and split up into paragraphs. - -Smith read it with interest, and sent it off to the printer unaltered. - -"Have another ready for next week, Comrade Brown," he said. "It's a -long shot, but this might turn out to be just what we need." - -And when, two days after the publication of the number containing the -article, Mr. Martin Parker called at the office, he felt that the long -shot had won out. - -He was holding forth on life in general to Betty shortly before the -luncheon hour when Pugsy Maloney entered bearing a card. - -"Martin Parker?" said Smith, taking it. "I don't know him. We make new -friends daily." - -"He's a guy wit' a tall-shaped hat," volunteered Master Maloney, "an' -he's wearing a dude suit an' shiny shoes." - -"Comrade Parker," said Smith approvingly, "has evidently not been blind -to the importance of a visit to _Peaceful Moments_. He has dressed -himself in his best. He has felt, rightly, that this is no occasion for -the flannel suit and the old straw hat. I would not have it otherwise. -It is the right spirit. Show the guy in. We will give him audience." - -Pugsy withdrew. - -Mr. Martin Parker proved to be a man who might have been any age -between thirty-five and forty-five. He had a dark face and a black -mustache. As Pugsy had stated, in effect, he wore a morning coat, -trousers with a crease which brought a smile of kindly approval to -Smith's face, and patent-leather shoes of pronounced shininess. - -"I want to see the editor," he said. - -"Will you take a seat?" said Smith. - -He pushed a chair toward the visitor, who seated himself with the care -inspired by a perfect trouser crease. There was a momentary silence -while he selected a spot on the table on which to place his hat. - -"I have come about a private matter," he said, looking meaningly at -Betty, who got up and began to move toward the door. Smith nodded to -her, and she went out. - -"Say," said Mr. Parker, "hasn't something happened to this paper these -last few weeks? It used not to take such an interest in things, used -it?" - -"You are very right," responded Smith. "Comrade Renshaw's methods were -good in their way. I have no quarrel with Comrade Renshaw. But he did -not lead public thought. He catered exclusively to children with water -on the brain and men and women with solid ivory skulls. I feel that -there are other and larger publics. I cannot content myself with -ladling out a weekly dole of predigested mental breakfast food. I--" - -"Then you, I guess," said Mr. Parker, "are responsible for this Broster -Street thing?" - -"At any rate, I approve of it and put it in the paper. If any husky -guy, as Comrade Maloney would put it, is anxious to aim a swift kick at -the author of that article, he can aim it at me." - -"I see," said Mr. Parker. He paused. "It said 'Number one' in the -paper. Does that mean there are going to be more of them?" - -"There is no flaw in your reasoning. There are to be several more." - -Mr. Parker looked at the door. It was closed. He bent forward. - -"See here," he said, "I'm going to talk straight, if you'll let me." - -"Assuredly, Comrade Parker. There must be no secrets, no restraint -between us. I would not have you go away and say to yourself, 'Did I -make my meaning clear? Was I too elusive?'" - -Mr. Parker scratched the floor with the point of a gleaming shoe. He -seemed to be searching for words. - -"Say on," urged Smith. "Have you come to point out some flaw in that -article? Does it fall short in any way of your standard for such work?" - -Mr. Parker came to the point. - -"If I were you," he said, "I should quit it. I shouldn't go on with -those articles." - -"Why?" enquired Smith. - -"Because," said Mr. Parker. - -He looked at Smith, and smiled slowly, an ingratiating smile. Smith did -not respond. - -"I do not completely gather your meaning," he said. "I fear I must ask -you to hand it to me with still more breezy frankness. Do you speak -from purely friendly motives? Are you advising me to discontinue the -series because you fear that it will damage the literary reputation of -the paper? Do you speak solely as a literary connoisseur? Or are there -other reasons?" - -Mr. Parker leaned forward. - -"The gentleman whom I represent--" - -"Then this is no matter of your own personal taste? There is another?" - -"See here, I'm representing a gentleman who shall be nameless, and I've -come on his behalf to tip you off to quit this game. These articles of -yours are liable to cause him inconvenience." - -"Financial? Do you mean that he may possibly have to spend some of his -spare doubloons in making Broster Street fit to live in?" - -"It's not so much the money. It's the publicity. There are reasons why -he would prefer not to have it made too public that he's the owner of -the tenements down there." - -"Well, he knows what to do. If he makes Broster Street fit for a -not-too-fastidious pig to live in--" - -Mr. Parker coughed. A tentative cough, suggesting that the situation -was now about to enter upon a more delicate phase. - -"Now, see here, sir," he said, "I'm going to be frank. I'm going to put -my cards on the table, and see if we can't fix something up. Now, see -here. We don't want any unpleasantness. You aren't in this business for -your health, eh? You've got your living to make, same as everybody -else, I guess. Well, this is how it stands. To a certain extent, I -don't mind owning, since we're being frank with one another, you've got -us--that's to say, this gentleman I'm speaking of--in a cleft stick. -Frankly, that Broster Street story of yours has attracted attention--I -saw it myself in two Sunday papers--and if there's going to be any more -of them--Well, now, here's a square proposition. How much do you want -to stop those articles? That's straight. I've been frank with you, and -I want you to be frank with me. What's your figure? Name it, and if you -don't want the earth I guess we needn't quarrel." - -He looked expectantly at Smith. Smith, gazing sadly at him through his -monocle, spoke quietly, with the restrained dignity of some old Roman -senator dealing with the enemies of the Republic. - -"Comrade Parker," he said, "I fear that you have allowed your -intercourse with this worldly city to undermine your moral sense. It is -useless to dangle rich bribes before the editorial eyes. _Peaceful -Moments_ cannot be muzzled. You doubtless mean well, according to -your somewhat murky lights, but we are not for sale, except at fifteen -cents weekly. From the hills of Maine to the Everglades of Florida, -from Portland, Oregon, to Melonsquashville, Tennessee, one sentence is -in every man's mouth. And what is that sentence? I give you three -guesses. You give it up? It is this: '_Peaceful Moments_ cannot be -muzzled!'" - -Mr. Parker rose. - -"Nothing doing, then?" he said. - -"Nothing." - -Mr. Parker picked up his hat. - -"See here," he said, a grating note in his voice, hitherto smooth and -conciliatory, "I've no time to fool away talking to you. I've given you -your chance. Those stories are going to be stopped. And if you've any -sense in you at all, you'll stop them yourself before you get hurt. -That's all I've got to say, and that goes." - -He went out, closing the door behind him with a bang that added -emphasis to his words. - -"All very painful and disturbing," murmured Smith. "Comrade Brown!" he -called. - -Betty came in. - -"Did our late visitor bite a piece out of you on his way out? He was in -the mood to do something of the sort." - -"He seemed angry," said Betty. - -"He _was_ angry," said Smith. "Do you know what has happened, -Comrade Brown? With your very first contribution to the paper you have -hit the bull's-eye. You have done the state some service. Friend Parker -came as the representative of the owner of those Broster Street houses. -He wanted to buy us off. We've got them scared, or he wouldn't have -shown his hand with such refreshing candor. Have you any engagements at -present?" - -"I was just going out to lunch, if you could spare me." - -"Not alone. This lunch is on the office. As editor of this journal I -will entertain you, if you will allow me, to a magnificent banquet. -_Peaceful Moments_ is grateful to you. _Peaceful Moments,"_ -he added, with the contented look the Far West editor must have worn as -the bullet came through the window, "is, owing to you, going some now." - - * * * * * - -When they returned from lunch, and reentered the outer office, Pugsy -Maloney, raising his eyes for a moment from his book, met them with the -information that another caller had arrived and was waiting in the -inner room. - -"Dere's a guy in dere waitin' to see youse," he said, jerking his head -towards the door. - -"Yet another guy? This is our busy day. Did he give a name?" - -"Says his name's Maude," said Master Maloney, turning a page. - -"Maude!" cried Betty, falling back. - -Smith beamed. - -"Old John Maude!" he said. "Great! I've been wondering what on earth -he's been doing with himself all this time. Good-old John! You'll like -him," he said, turning, and stopped abruptly, for he was speaking to -the empty air. Betty had disappeared. - -"Where's Miss Brown, Pugsy?" he said. "Where did she go?" - -Pugsy vouchsafed another jerk of the head, in the direction of the -outer door. - -"She's beaten it," he said. "I seen her make a break for de stairs. -Guess she's forgotten to remember somet'ing," he added indifferently, -turning once more to his romance of prairie life. "Goils is -bone-heads." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE MAN AT THE ASTOR - - -Refraining from discussing with Master Maloney the alleged -bone-headedness of girls, Smith went through into the inner room, and -found John sitting in the editorial chair, glancing through the latest -number of _Peaceful Moments_. - -"Why, John, friend of my youth," he said, "where have you been hiding -all this time? I called you up at your office weeks ago, and an acid -voice informed me that you were no longer there. Have you been fired?" - -"Yes," said John. "Why aren't you on the _News_ any more? Nobody -seemed to know where you were, till I met Faraday this morning, who -told me you were here." - -Smith was conscious of an impression that in some subtle way John had -changed since their last meeting. For a moment he could not have said -what had given him this impression. Then it flashed upon him. Before, -John had always been, like Mrs. Fezziwig in "The Christmas Carol," one -vast substantial smile. He had beamed cheerfully on what to him was -evidently the best of all possible worlds. Now, however, it would seem -that doubts had occurred to him as to the universal perfection of -things. His face was graver. His eyes and his mouth alike gave evidence -of disturbing happenings. - -In the matter of confidences, Smith was not a believer in spade-work. -If they were offered to him, he was invariably sympathetic, but he -never dug for them. That John had something on his mind was obvious, -but he intended to allow him, if he wished to reveal it, to select his -own time for the revelation. - -John, for his part, had no intention of sharing this particular trouble -even with Smith. It was too new and intimate for discussion. - -It was only since his return to New York that the futility of his quest -had really come home to him. In the belief of having at last escaped -from Mervo he had been inclined to overlook obstacles. It had seemed to -him, while he waited for his late subjects to dismiss him, that, once -he could move, all would be simple. New York had dispelled that idea. -Logically, he saw with perfect clearness, there was no reason why he -and Betty should ever meet again. - -To retain a spark of hope beneath this knowledge was not easy and John, -having been in New York now for nearly three weeks without any -encouragement from the fates, was near the breaking point. A gray -apathy had succeeded the frenzied restlessness of the first few days. -The necessity for some kind of work that would to some extent occupy -his mind was borne in upon him, and the thought of Smith had followed -naturally. If anybody could supply distraction, it would be Smith. -Faraday, another of the temporary exiles from the _News_, whom he -had met by chance in Washington Square, had informed him of Smith's new -position and of the renaissance of _Peaceful Moments_, and he had -hurried to the office to present himself as an unskilled but willing -volunteer to the cause. Inspection of the current number of the paper -had convinced him that the _Peaceful Moments_ atmosphere, if it -could not cure, would at least relieve. - -"Faraday told me all about what you had done to this paper," he said. -"I came to see if you would let me in on it. I want work." - -"Excellent!" said Smith. "Consider yourself one of us." - -"I've never done any newspaper work, of course, but--" - -"Never!" cried Smith. "Is it so long since the deaf old college days -that you forget the _Gridiron?"_ - -In their last year at Harvard, Smith and John, assisted by others of a -congenial spirit, had published a small but lively magazine devoted to -college topics, with such success--from one point of view--that on the -appearance of the third number it was suppressed by the authorities. - -"You were the life and soul of the _Gridiron,"_ went on Smith. -"You shall be the life and soul of _Peaceful Moments_. You have -special qualifications for the post. A young man once called at the -office of a certain newspaper, and asked for a job. 'Have you any -specialty?' enquired the editor. 'Yes,' replied the bright boy, 'I am -rather good at invective.' 'Any particular kind of invective?' queried -the man up top. 'No,' replied our hero, 'just general invective.' Such -is your case, my son. You have a genius for general invective. You are -the man _Peaceful Moments_ has been waiting for." - -"If you think so--" - -"I do think so. Let us consider it settled. And now, tell me, what do -you think of our little journal?" - -"Well--aren't you asking for trouble? Isn't the proprietor--?" - -Smith waved his hand airily. - -"Dismiss him from your mind," he said. "He is a gentleman of the name -of Benjamin Scobell, who--" - -"Benjamin Scobell!" - -"Who lives in Europe and never sees the paper. I happen to know that he -is anxious to get rid of it. His solicitors have instructions to accept -any reasonable offer. If only I could close in on a small roll, I would -buy it myself, for by the time we have finished our improvements, it -will be a sound investment for the young speculator. Have you read the -Broster Street story? It has hit somebody already. Already some unknown -individual is grasping the lemon in his unwilling fingers. And--to -remove any diffidence you may still have about lending your sympathetic -aid--that was written by no hardened professional, but by our -stenographer. She'll be in soon, and I'll introduce you. You'll like -her. I do not despair, later on, of securing an epoch-making -contribution from Comrade Maloney." - -As he spoke, that bulwark of the paper entered in person, bearing an -envelope. - -"Ah, Comrade Maloney," said Smith. "Is that your contribution? What is -the subject? 'Mustangs I have Met?'" - -"A kid brought dis," said Pugsy. "Dere ain't no answer." - -Smith read the letter with raised eyebrows. - -"We shall have to get another stenographer," he said. "The gifted -author of our Broster Street series has quit." - -"Oh!" said John, not interested. - -"Quit at a moment's notice and without explanation. I can't understand -it." - -"I guess she had some reason," said John, absently. He was inclined to -be absent during these days. His mind was always stealing away to -occupy itself with the problem of the discovery of Betty. The motives -that might have led a stenographer to resign her position had no -interest for him. - -Smith shrugged his shoulders. - -"Oh, Woman, Woman!" he said resignedly. - -"She says she will send in some more Broster Street stuff, though, -which is a comfort. But I'm sorry she's quit. You would have liked -her." - -"Yes?" said John. - -At this moment there came from the outer office a piercing squeal. It -penetrated into the editorial sanctum, losing only a small part of its -strength on the way. Smith looked up with patient sadness. - -"If Comrade Maloney," he said, "is going to take to singing during -business hours, I fear this journal must put up its shutters. -Concentrated thought will be out of the question." - -He moved to the door and flung it open as a second squeal rent the air, -and found Master Maloney writhing in the grip of a tough-looking person -in patched trousers and a stained sweater. His left ear was firmly -grasped between the stranger's finger and thumb. - -The tough person released Pugsy, and, having eyed Smith keenly for a -moment, made a dash for the stairs, leaving the guardian of the gate -rubbing his ear resentfully. - -"He blows in," said Master Maloney, aggrieved, "an' asks is de editor -in. I tells him no, an' he nips me by the ear when I tries to stop him -buttin' t'roo." - -"Comrade Maloney," said Smith, "you are a martyr. What would Horatius -have done if somebody had nipped him by the ear when he was holding the -bridge? It might have made all the difference. Did the gentleman state -his business?" - -"Nope. Just tried to butt t'roo." - -"One of these strong, silent men. The world is full of us. These are -the perils of the journalistic life. You will be safer and happier when -you are a cowboy, Comrade Maloney." - -Smith was thoughtful as he returned to the inner room. - -"Things are warming up, John," he said. "The sport who has just left -evidently came just to get a sight of me. Otherwise, why should he tear -himself away without stopping for a chat. I suppose he was sent to mark -me down for whichever gang Comrade Parker is employing." - -"What do you mean?" said John. "All this gets past me. Who is Parker?" - -Smith related the events leading up to Mr. Parker's visit, and -described what had happened on that occasion. - -"So, before you throw in your lot with this journal," he concluded, "it -would be well to think the matter over. You must weigh the pros and -cons. Is your passion for literature such that you do not mind being -put out of business with a black-jack for the cause? Will the knowledge -that a low-browed gentleman is waiting round the corner for you -stimulate or hinder you in your work? There's no doubt now that we are -up against a tough crowd." - -"By Jove!" said John. "I hadn't a notion it was like that." - -"You feel, then, that on the whole--" - -"I feel that on the whole this is just the business I've been hunting -for. You couldn't keep me out of it now with an ax." - -Smith looked at him curiously, but refrained from enquiries. That there -must be something at the back of this craving for adventure and -excitement, he knew. The easy-going John he had known of old would -certainly not have deserted the danger zone, but he would not have -welcomed entry to it so keenly. It was plain that he was hungry for -work that would keep him from thought. Smith was eminently a patient -young man, and though the problem of what upheaval had happened to -change John to such an extent interested him greatly, he was prepared -to wait for explanations. - -Of the imminence of the danger he was perfectly aware. He had known -from the first that Mr. Parker's concluding words were not an empty -threat. His experience as a reporter had given him the knowledge that -is only given in its entirety to police and newspaper men: that there -are two New Yorks--one, a modern, well-policed city, through which one -may walk from end to end without encountering adventure; the other, a -city as full of sinister intrigue, of whisperings and conspiracies, of -battle, murder, and sudden death in dark byways, as any town of -mediaeval Italy. Given certain conditions, anything may happen in New -York. And Smith realized that these conditions now prevailed in his own -case. He had come into conflict with New York's underworld. -Circumstances had placed him below the surface, where only his wits -could help him. - -He would have been prepared to see the thing through by himself, but -there was no doubt that John as an ally would be a distinct comfort. - -Nevertheless, he felt compelled to give his friend a last chance of -withdrawing. - -"You know," he said, "there is really no reason why you should--" - -"But I'm going to," interrupted John. "That's all there is to it. -What's going to happen, anyway? I don't know anything about these -gangs. I thought they spent all their time shooting each other up." - -"Not all, unfortunately, Comrade John. They are always charmed to take -on a small job like this on the side." - -"And what does it come to? Do we have an entire gang camping on our -trail in a solid mass, or only one or two toughs?" - -"Merely a section, I should imagine. Comrade Parker would go to the -main boss of the gang--Bat Jarvis, if it was the Groome Street gang, or -Spider Reilly and Dude Dawson if he wanted the Three Points or the -Table Hill lot. The boss would chat over the matter with his own -special partners, and they would fix it up among themselves. The rest -of the gang would probably know nothing about it. The fewer in the -game, you see, the fewer to divide the Parker dollars. So what we have -to do is to keep a lookout for a dozen or so aristocrats of that -dignified deportment which comes from constant association with the -main boss, and, if we can elude these, all will be well." - - * * * * * - -It was by Smith's suggestion that the editorial staff of _Peaceful -Moments_ dined that night at the Astor roof-garden. - -"The tired brain," he said, "needs to recuperate. To feed on such a -night as this in some low-down hostelry on the level of the street, -with German waiters breathing heavily down the back of one's neck and -two fiddles and a piano hitting up ragtime about three feet from one's -tympanum, would be false economy. Here, fanned by cool breezes and -surrounded by passably fair women and brave men, one may do a certain -amount of tissue-restoring. Moreover, there is little danger up here of -being slugged by our moth-eaten acquaintance of this afternoon. We -shall probably find him waiting for us at the main entrance with a -black-jack, but till then--" - -He turned with gentle grace to his soup. It was a warm night, and the -roof-garden was full. From where they sat they could see the million -twinkling lights of the city. John, watching them, as he smoked a -cigarette at the conclusion of the meal, had fallen into a dream. He -came to himself with a start, to find Smith in conversation with a -waiter. - -"Yes, my name is Smith," he was saying. - -The waiter retired to one of the tables and spoke to a young man -sitting there. John, recollected having seen this solitary diner -looking in their direction once or twice during dinner, but the fact -had not impressed him. - -"What's the matter?" he asked. - -"The man at that table sent over to ask if my name was Smith. It was. -He is now coming along to chat in person. I wonder why. I don't know -him from Adam." - -The stranger was threading his way between the tables. - -"Can I have a word with you, Mr. Smith?" he said. The waiter brought a -chair and he seated himself. - -"By the way," said Smith, "my friend, Mr. Maude. Your own name will -doubtless come up in the course of general chitchat over the -coffee-cups." - -"Not on your tintype it won't," said the stranger decidedly. "It won't -be needed. Is Mr. Maude on your paper? That's all right, then. I can go -ahead." - -He turned to Smith. - -"It's about that Broster Street thing." - -"More fame!" murmured Smith. "We certainly are making a hit with the -great public over Broster Street." - -"Well, you understand certain parties have got it in against you?" - -"A charming conversationalist, one Comrade Parker, hinted at something -of the sort in a recent conversation. We shall endeavor, however, to -look after ourselves." - -"You'll need to. The man behind is a big bug." - -"Who is he?" - -The stranger shrugged his shoulders. - -"Search me. You wouldn't expect him to give that away." - -"Then on what system have you estimated the size of the gentleman's -bug-hood? What makes you think that he's a big bug?" - -"By the number of dollars he was ready to put up to have you put -through." - -Smith's eyes gleamed for an instant, but he spoke as coolly as ever. - -"Oh!" he said. "And which gang has he hired?" - -"I couldn't say. He--his agent, that is--came to Bat Jarvis. Bat for -some reason turned the job down." - -"He did? Why?" - -"Search me. Nobody knows. But just as soon as he heard who it was he -was being asked to lay for, he turned it down cold. Said none of his -fellows was going to put a finger on anyone who had anything to do with -your paper. I don't know what you've been doing to Bat, but he sure is -the long-lost brother to you." - -"A powerful argument in favor of kindness to animals!" said Smith. "One -of his celebrated stud of cats came into the possession of our -stenographer. What did she do? Instead of having the animal made into a -nourishing soup, she restored it to its bereaved owner. Observe the -sequel. We are very much obliged to Comrade Jarvis." - -"He sent me along," went on the stranger, "to tell you to watch out, -because one of the other gangs was dead sure to take on the job. And he -said you were to know that he wasn't mixed up in it. Well, that's all. -I'll be pushing along. I've a date. Glad to have met you, Mr. Maude. -Good-night." - -For a few moments after he had gone, Smith and John sat smoking in -silence. - -"What's the time?" asked Smith suddenly. "If it's not too late--Hello, -here comes our friend once more." - -The stranger came up to the table, a light overcoat over his dress -clothes. From the pocket of this he produced a watch. - -"Force of habit," he said apologetically, handing it to John. "You'll -pardon me. Good-night again." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE HIGHFIELD - - -John looked after him, open-mouthed. The events of the evening had -been a revelation to him. He had not realized the ramifications of New -York's underworld. That members of the gangs should appear in gorgeous -raiment in the Astor roof-garden was a surprise. "And now," said Smith, -"that our friend has so sportingly returned your watch, take a look at -it and see the time. Nine? Excellent. We shall do it comfortably." - -"What's that?" asked John. - -"Our visit to the Highfield. A young friend of mine who is fighting -there to-night sent me tickets a few days ago. In your perusal of -_Peaceful Moments_ you may have chanced to see mention of one Kid -Brady. He is the man. I was intending to go in any case, but an idea -has just struck me that we might combine pleasure with business. Has it -occurred to you that these black-jack specialists may drop in on us at -the office? And, if so, that Comrade Maloney's statement that we are -not in may be insufficient to keep them out? Comrade Brady would be an -invaluable assistant. And as we are his pugilistic sponsors, without -whom he would not have got this fight at all, I think we may say that -he will do any little thing we may ask of him." - -It was certainly true that, from the moment the paper had taken up his -cause, Kid Brady's star had been in the ascendant. The sporting pages -of the big dailies had begun to notice him, until finally the -management of the Highfield Club had signed him on for a ten-round bout -with a certain Cyclone Dick Fisher. - -"He should," continued Smith, "if equipped in any degree with the finer -feelings, be bubbling over with gratitude toward us. At any rate, it is -worth investigating." - - * * * * * - -Far away from the comfortable glare of Broadway, in a place of -disheveled houses and insufficient street-lamps, there stands the old -warehouse which modern enterprise has converted into the Highfield -Athletic and Gymnastic Club. The imagination, stimulated by the title, -conjures up picture-covered walls, padded chairs, and seas of white -shirt front. The Highfield differs in some respects from this fancy -picture. Indeed, it would be hard to find a respect in which it does -not differ. But these names are so misleading! The title under which -the Highfield used to be known till a few years back was "Swifty -Bob's." It was a good, honest title. You knew what to export, and if -you attended seances at Swifty Bob's you left your gold watch and your -little savings at home. But a wave of anti-pugilistic feeling swept -over the New York authorities. Promoters of boxing contests found -themselves, to their acute disgust, raided by the police. The industry -began to languish. Persons avoided places where at any moment the -festivities might be marred by an inrush of large men in blue uniforms, -armed with locust sticks. - -And then some big-brained person suggested the club idea, which stands -alone as an example of American dry humor. At once there were no boxing -contests in New York; Swifty Bob and his fellows would have been -shocked at the idea of such a thing. All that happened now was -exhibition sparring bouts between members of the club. It is true that -next day the papers very tactlessly reported the friendly exhibition -spar as if it had been quite a serious affair, but that was not the -fault of Swifty Bob. - -Kid Brady, the chosen of _Peaceful Moments_, was billed for a -"ten-round exhibition contest," to be the main event of the evening's -entertainment. - - * * * * * - -A long journey on the subway took them to the neighborhood, and after -considerable wandering they arrived at their destination. - -Smith's tickets were for a ring-side box, a species of sheep pen of -unpolished wood, with four hard chairs in it. The interior of the -Highfield Athletic and Gymnastic Club was severely free from anything -in the shape of luxury and ornament. Along the four walls were raised -benches in tiers. On these were seated as tough-looking a collection of -citizens as one might wish to see. On chairs at the ringside were the -reporters with tickers at their sides. In the center of the room, -brilliantly lighted by half-a-dozen electric chandeliers, was the ring. - -There were preliminary bouts before the main event. A burly gentleman -in shirt-sleeves entered the ring, followed by two slim youths in -fighting costume and a massive person in a red jersey, blue serge -trousers, and yellow braces, who chewed gum with an abstracted air -throughout the proceedings. - -The burly gentleman gave tongue in a voice that cleft the air like a -cannon ball. - -"Ex-hibit-i-on four-round bout between Patsy Milligan and Tommy -Goodley, members of this club. Patsy on my right, Tommy on my left. -Gentlemen will kindly stop smokin'." - -The audience did nothing of the sort. Possibly they did not apply the -description to themselves. Possibly they considered the appeal a mere -formula. Somewhere in the background a gong sounded, and Patsy, from -the right, stepped briskly forward to meet Tommy, approaching from the -left. - -The contest was short but energetic. At intervals the combatants would -cling affectionately to one another, and on these occasions the -red-jerseyed man, still chewing gum and still wearing the same air of -being lost in abstract thought, would split up the mass by the simple -method of ploughing his way between the pair. Toward the end of the -first round Thomas, eluding a left swing, put Patrick neatly to the -floor, where the latter remained for the necessary ten seconds. - -The remaining preliminaries proved disappointing. So much so that in -the last of the series a soured sportsman on one of the benches near -the roof began in satirical mood to whistle the "Merry Widow Waltz." It -was here that the red-jerseyed thinker for the first and last time came -out of his meditative trance. He leaned over the ropes, and spoke, -without heat, but firmly: - -"If that guy whistling back up yonder thinks he can do better than -these boys, he can come right down into the ring." - -The whistling ceased. - -There was a distinct air of relief when the last preliminary was -finished and preparations for the main bout began. It did not commence -at once. There were formalities to be gone through, introductions and -the like. The burly gentleman reappeared from nowhere, ushering into -the ring a sheepishly grinning youth in a flannel suit. - -"In-ter-_doo_-cin' Young Leary," he bellowed impressively, "a noo -member of this club, who will box some good boy here in September." - -He walked to the other side of the ring and repeated the remark. A -raucous welcome was accorded to the new member. - -Two other notable performers were introduced in a similar manner, and -then the building became suddenly full of noise, for a tall youth in a -bath robe, attended by a little army of assistants, had entered the -ring. One of the army carried a bright green bucket, on which were -painted in white letters the words "Cyclone Dick Fisher." A moment -later there was another, though a far less, uproar, as Kid Brady, his -pleasant face wearing a self-conscious smirk, ducked under the ropes -and sat down in the opposite corner. - -"Ex-hib-it-i-on ten-round bout," thundered the burly gentleman, -"between Cyclone Dick Fisher--" - -Loud applause. Mr. Fisher was one of the famous, a fighter with a -reputation from New York to San Francisco. He was generally considered -the most likely man to give the hitherto invincible Jimmy Garvin a hard -battle for the light-weight championship. - -"Oh, you Dick!" roared the crowd. - -Mr. Fisher bowed benevolently. - -"--and Kid Brady, member of this--" - -There was noticeably less applause for the Kid. He was an unknown. A -few of those present had heard of his victories in the West, but these -were but a small section of the crowd. When the faint applause had -ceased, Smith rose to his feet. - -"Oh, you Kid!" he observed encouragingly. "I should not like Comrade -Brady," he said, reseating himself, "to think that he has no friend but -his poor old mother, as occurred on a previous occasion." - -The burly gentleman, followed by the two armies of assistants, dropped -down from the ring, and the gong sounded. - -Mr. Fisher sprang from his corner as if somebody had touched a spring. -He seemed to be of the opinion that if you are a cyclone, it is never -too soon to begin behaving like one. He danced round the Kid with an -india-rubber agility. The _Peaceful Moments_ representative -exhibited more stolidity. Except for the fact that he was in fighting -attitude, with one gloved hand moving slowly in the neighborhood of his -stocky chest, and the other pawing the air on a line with his square -jaw, one would have said that he did not realize the position of -affairs. He wore the friendly smile of the good-natured guest who is -led forward by his hostess to join in some game to amuse the children. - -Suddenly his opponent's long left shot out. The Kid, who had been -strolling forward, received it under the chin, and continued to stroll -forward as if nothing of note had happened. He gave the impression of -being aware that Mr. Fisher had committed a breach of good taste and of -being resolved to pass it off with ready tact. - -The Cyclone, having executed a backward leap, a forward leap, and a -feint, landed heavily with both hands. The Kid's genial smile did not -even quiver, but he continued to move forward. His opponent's left -flashed out again, but this time, instead of ignoring the matter, the -Kid replied with a heavy right swing, and Mr. Fisher leaping back, -found himself against the ropes. By the time he had got out of that -uncongenial position, two more of the Kid's swings had found their -mark. Mr. Fisher, somewhat perturbed, scuttled out into the middle of -the ring, the Kid following in his self-contained, stolid way. - -The Cyclone now became still more cyclonic. He had a left arm which -seemed to open out in joints like a telescope. Several times when the -Kid appeared well out of distance there was a thud as a brown glove -ripped in over his guard and jerked his head back. But always he kept -boring in, delivering an occasional right to the body with the pleased -smile of an infant destroying a Noah's ark with a tack-hammer. Despite -these efforts, however, he was plainly getting all the worst of it. -Energetic Mr. Fisher, relying on his long left, was putting in three -blows to his one. When the gong sounded, ending the first round, the -house was practically solid for the Cyclone. Whoops and yells rose from -everywhere. The building rang with shouts of, "Oh, you Dick!" - -Smith turned sadly to John. - -"It seems to me," he said, "that this merry meeting looks like doing -Comrade Brady no good. I should not be surprised at any moment to see -his head bounce off on to the floor." - -Rounds two and three were a repetition of round one. The Cyclone raged -almost unchecked about the ring. In one lightning rally in the third he -brought his right across squarely on to the Kid's jaw. It was a blow -which should have knocked any boxer out. The Kid merely staggered -slightly, and returned to business still smiling. - -With the opening of round four there came a subtle change. The -Cyclone's fury was expending itself. That long left shot out less -sharply. Instead of being knocked back by it, the _Peaceful -Moments_ champion now took the hits in his stride, and came -shuffling in with his damaging body-blows. There were cheers and "Oh, -you Dick's!" at the sound of the gong, but there was an appealing note -in them this time. The gallant sportsmen whose connection with boxing -was confined to watching other men fight and betting on what they -considered a certainty, and who would have expired promptly if anyone -had tapped them sharply on their well-filled vests, were beginning to -fear that they might lose their money after all. - -In the fifth round the thing became a certainty. Like the month of -March, the Cyclone, who had come in like a lion, was going out like a -lamb. A slight decrease in the pleasantness of the Kid's smile was -noticeable. His expression began to resemble more nearly the gloomy -importance of the _Peaceful Moments_ photographs. Yells of agony -from panic-stricken speculators around the ring began to smite the -rafters. The Cyclone, now but a gentle breeze, clutched repeatedly, -hanging on like a leech till removed by the red-jerseyed referee. - -Suddenly a grisly silence fell upon the house. For the Kid, battered, -but obviously content, was standing in the middle of the ring, while on -the ropes the Cyclone, drooping like a wet sock, was sliding slowly to -the floor. - -"_Peaceful Moments_ wins," said Smith. "An omen, I fancy, Comrade -John." - -Penetrating into the Kid's dressing-room some moments later, the -editorial staff found the winner of the ten-round exhibition bout -between members of the club seated on a chair having his right leg -rubbed by a shock-headed man in a sweater, who had been one of his -seconds during the conflict. The Kid beamed as they entered. - -"Gents," he said, "come right in. Mighty glad to see you." - -"It is a relief to me, Comrade Brady," said Smith, "to find that you -can see us. I had expected to find that Comrade Fisher's purposeful -wallops had completely closed your star-likes." - -"Sure, I never felt them. He's a good, quick boy, is Dick, but," -continued the Kid with powerful imagery "he couldn't hit a hole in a -block of ice-cream, not if he was to use a coke-hammer." - -"And yet at one period in the proceedings," said Smith, "I fancied that -your head would come unglued at the neck. But the fear was merely -transient. When you began to get going, why, then I felt like some -watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken, or like -stout Cortez when with eagle eyes he stared at the Pacific." - -The Kid blinked. - -"How's that?" he enquired. - -"And why did I feel like that, Comrade Brady? I will tell you. Because -my faith in you was justified. Because there before me stood the ideal -fighting editor of _Peaceful Moments_. It is not a post that any -weakling can fill. Mere charm of manner cannot qualify a man for the -position. No one can hold down the job simply by having a kind heart or -being good at comic songs. No. We want a man of thews and sinews, a man -who would rather be hit on the head with a half-brick than not. And -you, Comrade Brady, are such a man." - -The shock-headed man, who during this conversation had been -concentrating himself on his subject's left leg now announced that he -guessed that would about do, and having advised the Kid not to stop and -pick daisies, but to get into his clothes at once before he caught a -chill, bade the company goodnight and retired. - -Smith shut the door. - -"Comrade Brady," he said, "you know those articles about the tenements -we've been having in the paper?" - -"Sure. I read 'em. They're to the good. It was about time some strong -josher came and put it across 'em." - -"So we thought. Comrade Parker, however, totally disagreed with us." - -"Parker?" - -"That's what I'm coming to," said Smith. "The day before yesterday a -man named Parker called at the office and tried to buy us off." - -"You gave him the hook, I guess?" queried the interested Kid. - -"To such an extent, Comrade Brady," said Smith, "that he left breathing -threatenings and slaughter. And it is for that reason that we have -ventured to call upon you. We're pretty sure by this time that Comrade -Parker has put one of the gangs on to us." - -"You don't say!" exclaimed the Kid. "Gee! They're tough propositions, -those gangs." - -"So we've come along to you. We can look after ourselves out of the -office, but what we want is someone to help in case they try to rush us -there. In brief, a fighting editor. At all costs we must have privacy. -No writer can prune and polish his sentences to his satisfaction if he -is compelled constantly to break off in order to eject boisterous -toughs. We therefore offer you the job of sitting in the outer room and -intercepting these bravoes before they can reach us. The salary we -leave to you. There are doubloons and to spare in the old oak chest. -Take what you need and put the rest--if any--back. How does the offer -strike you, Comrade Brady?" - -"Gents," said the Kid, "it's this way." - -He slipped into his coat, and resumed. - -"Now that I've made good by licking Dick, they'll be giving me a chance -of a big fight. Maybe with Jimmy Garvin. Well, if that happens, see -what I mean? I'll have to be going away somewhere and getting into -training. I shouldn't be able to come and sit with you. But, if you -gents feel like it, I'd be mighty glad to come in till I'm wanted to go -into training camp." - -"Great," said Smith. "And touching salary--" - -"Shucks!" said the Kid with emphasis. "Nix on the salary thing. I -wouldn't take a dime. If it hadn't 'a' been for you, I'd have been -waiting still for a chance of lining up in the championship class. -That's good enough for me. Any old thing you want me to do, I'll do it, -and glad to." - -"Comrade Brady," said Smith warmly, "you are, if I may say so, the -goods. You are, beyond a doubt, supremely the stuff. We three, then, -hand-in-hand, will face the foe, and if the foe has good, sound sense, -he will keep right away. You appear to be ready. Shall we meander -forth?" - -The building was empty and the lights were out when they emerged from -the dressing-room. They had to grope their way in darkness. It was -raining when they reached the street, and the only signs of life were a -moist policeman and the distant glare of saloon lights down the road. - -They turned off to the left, and, after walking some hundred yards, -found themselves in a blind alley. - -"Hello!" said John. "Where have we come to?" - -Smith sighed. - -"In my trusting way," he said, "I had imagined that either you or -Comrade Brady was in charge of this expedition and taking me by a known -route to the nearest subway station. I did not think to ask. I placed -myself, without hesitation, wholly in your hands." - -"I thought the Kid knew the way," said John. - -"I was just taggin' along with you gents," protested the light-weight. -"I thought you was taking me right. This is the first time I been up -here." - -"Next time we three go on a little jaunt anywhere," said Smith -resignedly, "it would be as well to take a map and a corps of guides -with us. Otherwise we shall start for Broadway and finish up at -Minneapolis." - -They emerged from the blind alley and stood in the dark street, looking -doubtfully up and down it. - -"Aha!" said Smith suddenly. "I perceive a native. Several natives, in -fact. Quite a little covey of them. We will put our case before them, -concealing nothing, and rely on their advice to take us to our goal." - -A little knot of men was approaching from the left. In the darkness it -was impossible to say how many of them were there. Smith stepped -forward, the Kid at his side. - -"Excuse me, sir," he said to the leader, "but if you can spare me a -moment of your valuable time--" - -There was a sudden shuffle of feet on the pavement, a quick movement on -the part of the Kid, a chunky sound as of wood striking wood, and the -man Smith had been addressing fell to the ground in a heap. - -As he fell, something dropped from his hand on to the pavement with a -bump and a rattle. Stooping swiftly, the Kid picked it up, and handed -it to Smith. His fingers closed upon it. It was a short, wicked-looking -little bludgeon, the black-jack of the New York tough. - -"Get busy," advised the Kid briefly. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE FIRST BATTLE - - -The promptitude and despatch with which the Kid had attended to the -gentleman with the black-jack had not been without its effect on the -followers of the stricken one. Physical courage is not an outstanding -quality of the New York gangsman. His personal preference is for -retreat when it is a question of unpleasantness with a stranger. And, -in any case, even when warring among themselves, the gangs exhibit a -lively distaste for the hard knocks of hand-to-hand fighting. Their -chosen method of battling is to lie down on the ground and shoot. - -The Kid's rapid work on the present occasion created a good deal of -confusion. There was no doubt that much had been hoped for from speedy -attack. Also, the generalship of the expedition had been in the hands -of the fallen warrior. His removal from the sphere of active influence -had left the party without a head. And, to add to their discomfiture, -they could not account for the Kid. Smith they knew, and John was to be -accounted for, but who was this stranger with the square shoulders and -the uppercut that landed like a cannon ball? Something approaching a -panic prevailed among the gang. - -It was not lessened by the behavior of the intended victims. John was -the first to join issue. He had been a few paces behind the others -during the black-jack incident, but, dark as it was, he had seen enough -to show him that the occasion was, as Smith would have said, one for -the shrewd blow rather than the prolonged parley. With a shout, he made -a football rush into the confused mass of the enemy. A moment later -Smith and the Kid followed, and there raged over the body of the fallen -leader a battle of Homeric type. - -It was not a long affair. The rules and conditions governing the -encounter offended the delicate sensibilities of the gang. Like artists -who feel themselves trammeled by distasteful conventions, they were -damped and could not do themselves justice. Their forte was long-range -fighting with pistols. With that they felt en rapport. But this vulgar -brawling in the darkness with muscular opponents who hit hard and often -with the clenched fist was distasteful to them. They could not develop -any enthusiasm for it. They carried pistols, but it was too dark and -the combatants were too entangled to allow them to use these. - -There was but one thing to be done. Reluctant as they might be to -abandon their fallen leader, it must be done. Already they were -suffering grievously from John, the black-jack, and the lightning blows -of the Kid. For a moment they hung, wavering, then stampeded in -half-a-dozen different directions, melting into the night whence they -had come. - -John, full of zeal, pursued one fugitive some fifty yards down the -street, but his quarry, exhibiting a rare turn of speed, easily -outstripped him. - -He came back, panting, to find Smith and the Kid examining the fallen -leader of the departed ones with the aid of a match, which went out -just as John arrived. - -The Kid struck another. The head of it fell off and dropped upon the -up-turned face. The victim stirred, shook himself, sat up, and began to -mutter something in a foggy voice. - -"He's still woozy," said the Kid. - -"Still--what exactly, Comrade Brady?" - -"In the air," explained the Kid. "Bats in the belfry. Dizzy. See what I -mean? It's often like that when a feller puts one in with a bit of -weight behind it just where that one landed. Gee! I remember when I -fought Martin Kelly; I was only starting to learn the game then. Martin -and me was mixing it good and hard all over the ring, when suddenly he -puts over a stiff one right on the point. What do you think I done? -Fall down and take the count? Not on your life. I just turns round and -walks straight out of the ring to my dressing-room. Willie Harvey, who -was seconding me, comes tearing in after me, and finds me getting into -my clothes. 'What's doing, Kid?' he asks. 'I'm going fishin', Willie,' -I says. 'It's a lovely day.' 'You've lost the fight,' he says. 'Fight?' -says I. 'What fight?' See what I mean? I hadn't a notion of what had -happened. It was half an hour and more before I could remember a -thing." - -During this reminiscence, the man on the ground had contrived to clear -his mind of the mistiness induced by the Kid's upper cut. The first -sign he showed of returning intelligence was a sudden dash for safety -up the road. But he had not gone five yards when he sat down limply. - -The Kid was inspired to further reminiscence. - -"Guess he's feeling pretty poor," he said. "It's no good him trying to -run for a while after he's put his chin in the way of a real live one. -I remember when Joe Peterson put me out, way back when I was new to the -game--it was the same year I fought Martin Kelly. He had an awful -punch, had old Joe, and he put me down and out in the eighth round. -After the fight they found me on the fire-escape outside my -dressing-room. 'Come in, Kid,' says they. 'It's all right, chaps,' I -says, 'I'm dying.' Like that. 'It's all right, chaps, I'm dying.' -Same with this guy. See what I mean?" - -They formed a group about the fallen black-jack expert. - -"Pardon us," said Smith courteously, "for breaking in upon your -reverie, but if you could spare us a moment of your valuable time, -there are one or two things which we would like to know." - -"Sure thing," agreed the Kid. - -"In the first place," continued Smith, "would it be betraying -professional secrets if you told us which particular bevy of energetic -cutthroats it is to which you are attached?" - -"Gent," explained the Kid, "wants to know what's your gang." - -The man on the ground muttered something that to Smith and John was -unintelligible. - -"It would be a charity," said the former, "if some philanthropist would -give this fellow elocution lessons. Can you interpret, Comrade Brady?" - -"Says it's the Three Points," said the Kid. - -"The Three Points? That's Spider Reilly's lot. Perhaps this _is_ -Spider Reilly?" - -"Nope," said the Kid. "I know the Spider. This ain't him. This is some -other mutt." - -"Which other mutt in particular?" asked Smith. "Try and find out, -Comrade Brady. You seem to be able to understand what he says. To me, -personally, his remarks sound like the output of a gramophone with a -hot potato in its mouth." - -"Says he's Jack Repetto," announced the interpreter. - -There was another interruption at this moment. The bashful Mr. Repetto, -plainly a man who was not happy in the society of strangers, made -another attempt to withdraw. Reaching out a pair of lean hands, he -pulled the Kid's legs from under him with a swift jerk, and, wriggling -to his feet, started off again down the road. Once more, however, -desire outran performance. He got as far as the nearest street-lamp, -but no further. The giddiness seemed to overcome him again, for he -grasped the lamp-post, and, sliding slowly to the ground, sat there -motionless. - -The Kid, whose fall had jolted and bruised him, was inclined to be -wrathful and vindictive. He was the first of the three to reach the -elusive Mr. Repetto, and if that worthy had happened to be standing -instead of sitting it might have gone hard with him. But the Kid was -not the man to attack a fallen foe. He contented himself with brushing -the dust off his person and addressing a richly abusive flow of remarks -to Mr. Repetto. - -Under the rays of the lamp it was possible to discern more closely the -features of the black-jack exponent. There was a subtle but noticeable -resemblance to those of Mr. Bat Jarvis. Apparently the latter's oiled -forelock, worn low over the forehead, was more a concession to the -general fashion prevailing in gang circles than an expression of -personal taste. Mr. Repetto had it, too. In his case it was almost -white, for the fallen warrior was an albino. His eyes, which were -closed, had white lashes and were set as near together as Nature had -been able to manage without actually running them into one another. His -underlip protruded and drooped. Looking at him, one felt instinctively -that no judging committee of a beauty contest would hesitate a moment -before him. - -It soon became apparent that the light of the lamp, though bestowing -the doubtful privilege of a clearer view of Mr. Repetto's face, held -certain disadvantages. Scarcely had the staff of _Peaceful -Moments_ reached the faint yellow pool of light, in the center of -which Mr. Repetto reclined, than, with a suddenness which caused them -to leap into the air, there sounded from the darkness down the road the -crack-crack-crack of a revolver. Instantly from the opposite direction -came other shots. Three bullets cut grooves in the roadway almost at -John's feet. The Kid gave a sudden howl. Smith's hat, suddenly imbued -with life, sprang into the air and vanished, whirling into the night. - -The thought did not come to them consciously at the moment, there being -little time to think, but it was evident as soon as, diving out of the -circle of light into the sheltering darkness, they crouched down and -waited for the next move, that a somewhat skilful ambush had been -effected. The other members of the gang, who had fled with such -remarkable speed, had by no means been eliminated altogether from the -game. While the questioning of Mr. Repetto had been in progress, they -had crept back, unperceived except by Mr. Repetto himself. It being too -dark for successful shooting, it had become Mr. Repetto's task to lure -his captors into the light, which he had accomplished with considerable -skill. - -For some minutes the battle halted. There was dead silence. The circle -of light was empty now. Mr. Repetto had vanished. A tentative shot from -nowhere ripped through the air close to where Smith lay flattened on -the pavement. And then the pavement began to vibrate and give out a -curious resonant sound. Somewhere--it might be near or far--a policeman -had heard the shots, and was signaling for help to other policemen -along the line by beating on the flagstones with his night stick. The -noise grew, filling the still air. Prom somewhere down the road sounded -the ring of running feet. - -"De cops!" cried a voice. "Beat it!" - -Next moment the night was full of clatter. The gang was "beating it." - -Smith rose to his feet and felt his wet and muddy clothes ruefully. - -The rescue party was coming up at the gallop. - -"What's doing?" asked a voice. - -"Nothing now," said the disgusted voice of the Kid from the shadows. -"They've beaten it." - -The circle of lamplight became as if by mutual consent a general -rendezvous. Three gray-clad policemen, tough, clean-shaven men with -keen eyes and square jaws, stood there, revolvers in one hand, night -sticks in the other. Smith, hatless and muddy, joined them. John and -the Kid, the latter bleeding freely from his left ear, the lobe of -which had been chipped by a bullet, were the last to arrive. - -"What's been the rough-house?" inquired one of the policemen, mildly -interested. - -"Do you know a sport of the name of Repetto?" enquired Smith. - -"Jack Repetto? Sure." - -"He belongs to the Three Points," said another intelligent officer, as -one naming some fashionable club. - -"When next you see him," said Smith, "I should be obliged if you would -use your authority to make him buy me a new hat. I could do with -another pair of trousers, too, but I will not press the trousers. A new -hat is, however, essential. Mine has a six-inch hole in it." - -"Shot at you, did they?" said one of the policemen, as who should say, -"Tut, tut!" - -"Shot at us!" burst out the ruffled Kid. "What do you think's been -happening? Think an aeroplane ran into my ear and took half of it off? -Think the noise was somebody opening bottles of pop? Think those guys -that sneaked off down the road was just training for a Marathon?" - -"Comrade Brady," said Smith, "touches the spot. He--" - -"Say, are you Kid Brady?" enquired one of the officers. For the first -time the constabulary had begun to display real animation. - -"Reckoned I'd seen you somewhere!" said another. "You licked Cyclone -Dick all right, Kid, I hear." - -"And who but a bone-head thought he wouldn't?" demanded the third -warmly. "He could whip a dozen Cyclone Dicks in the same evening with -his eyes shut." - -"He's the next champeen," admitted the first speaker. - -"If he juts it over Jimmy Garvin," argued the second. - -"Jimmy Garvin!" cried the third. "He can whip twenty Jimmy Garvins with -his feet tied. I tell you--" - -"I am loath," observed Smith, "to interrupt this very impressive brain -barbecue, but, trivial as it may seem to you, to me there is a certain -interest in this other little matter of my ruined hat. I know that it -may strike you as hypersensitive of us to protest against being riddled -with bullets, but--" - -"Well, what's been doin'?" inquired the Force. It was a nuisance, this -perpetual harping on trifles when the deep question of the light-weight -championship of the world was under discussion, but the sooner it was -attended to, the sooner it would be over. - -John undertook to explain. - -"The Three Points laid for us," he said. "This man, Jack Repetto, was -bossing the crowd. The Kid put one over on to Jack Repetto's chin, and -we were asking him a few questions when the rest came back, and started -shooting. Then we got to cover quick, and you came up and they beat -it." - -"That," said Smith, nodding, "is a very fair _precis_ of the -evening's events. We should like you, if you will be so good, to corral -this Comrade Repetto, and see that he buys me a new hat." - -"We'll round Jack up," said one of the policemen indulgently. - -"Do it nicely," urged Smith. "Don't go hurting his feelings." - -The second policeman gave it as his opinion that Jack was getting too -gay. The third policeman conceded this. Jack, he said, had shown signs -for some time past of asking for it in the neck. It was an error on -Jack's part, he gave his hearers to understand, to assume that the lid -was completely off the great city of New York. - -"Too blamed fresh he's gettin'," the trio agreed. They seemed to think -it was too bad of Jack. - -"The wrath of the Law," said Smith, "is very terrible. We will leave -the matter, then, in your hands. In the meantime, we should be glad if -you would direct us to the nearest subway station. Just at the moment, -the cheerful lights of the Great White Way are what I seem chiefly to -need." - - * * * * * - -So ended the opening engagement of the campaign, in a satisfactory but -far from decisive victory for the _Peaceful Moments_' army. - -"The victory," said Smith, "was not bloodless. Comrade Brady's ear, my -hat--these are not slight casualties. On the other hand, the -elimination of Comrade Repetto is pleasant. I know few men whom I would -not rather meet on a lonely road than Comrade Repetto. He is one of -nature's black-jackers. Probably the thing crept upon him slowly. He -started, possibly, in a merely tentative way by slugging one of the -family circle. His aunt, let us say, or his small brother. But, once -started, he is unable to resist the craving. The thing grips him like -dram-drinking. He black-jacks now not because he really wants to, but -because he cannot help himself. There's something singularly consoling -in the thought that Comrade Repetto will no longer be among those -present." - -"There are others," said John. - -"As you justly remark," said Smith, "there are others. I am glad we -have secured Comrade Brady's services. We may need them." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -BETTY AT LARGE - - -It was not till Betty found herself many blocks distant from the office -of _Peaceful Moments_ that she checked her headlong flight. She -had run down the stairs and out into the street blindly, filled only -with that passion for escape which had swept her away from Mervo. Not -till she had dived into the human river of Broadway and reached Times -Square did she feel secure. Then, with less haste, she walked on to the -park, and sat down on a bench, to think. - -Inevitably she had placed her own construction on John's sudden -appearance in New York and at the spot where only one person in any way -connected with Mervo knew her to be. She did not know that Smith and he -were friends, and did not, therefore, suspect that the former and not -herself might be the object of his visit. Nor had any word reached her -of what had happened at Mervo after her departure. She had taken it for -granted that things had continued as she had left them; and the only -possible explanation to her of John's presence in New York was that, -acting under orders from Mr. Scobell, he had come to try and bring her -back. - -She shuddered as she conjured up the scene that must have taken place -if Pugsy had not mentioned his name and she had gone on into the inner -room. In itself the thought that, after what she had said that morning -on the island, after she had forced on him, stripping it of the -uttermost rag of disguise, the realization of how his position appeared -to her, he should have come, under orders, to bring her back, was -well-nigh unendurable. But to have met him, to have seen the man she -loved plunging still deeper into shame, would have been pain beyond -bearing. Better a thousand times than that this panic flight into the -iron wilderness of New York. - -It was cool and soothing in the park. The roar of the city was hushed. -It was pleasant to sit there and watch the squirrels playing on the -green slopes or scampering up into the branches through which one could -see the gleam of water. Her thoughts became less chaotic. The peace of -the summer afternoon stole upon her. - -It did not take her long to make up her mind that the door of -_Peaceful Moments_ was closed to her. John, not finding her, might -go away, but he would return. Reluctantly, she abandoned the paper. Her -heart was heavy when she had formed the decision. She had been as happy -at _Peaceful Moments_ as it was possible for her to be now. She -would miss Smith and the leisurely work and the feeling of being one of -a team, working in a good cause. And that, brought Broster Street back -to her mind, and she thought of the children. No, she could not abandon -them. She had started the tenement articles, and she would go on with -them. But she must do it without ever venturing into the dangerous -neighborhood of the office. - -A squirrel ran up and sat begging for a nut. Betty searched in the -grass in the hope of finding one, but came upon nothing but shells. The -squirrel bounded away, with a disdainful flick of the tail. - -Betty laughed. - -"You think of nothing but food. You ought to be ashamed to be so -greedy." - -And then it came to her suddenly that it was no trifle, this same -problem of food. - -The warm, green park seemed to grow chill and gray. Once again she must -deal with life's material side. - -Her case was at the same time better and worse than it had been on that -other occasion when she had faced the future in the French train; -better, because then New York had been to her something vague and -terrifying, while now it was her city; worse, because she could no -longer seek help from Mrs. Oakley. - -That Mrs. Oakley had given John the information which had enabled him -to discover her hiding-place, Betty felt certain. By what other -possible means could he have found it? Why Mrs. Oakley, whom she had -considered an ally, should have done so, she did not know. She -attributed it to a change of mind, a reconsideration of the case when -uninfluenced by sentiment. And yet it seemed strange. Perhaps John had -gone to her and the sight of him had won the old lady over to his side. -It might be so. At any rate, it meant that the cottage on Staten -Island, like the office of _Peaceful Moments_, was closed to her. -She must look elsewhere for help, or trust entirely to herself. - -She sat on, thinking, with grave, troubled eyes, while the shadows -lengthened and the birds rustled sleepily in the branches overhead. - - * * * * * - -Among the good qualities, none too numerous, of Mr. Bat Jarvis, of -Groome Street in the Bowery, early rising was not included. It was his -habit to retire to rest at an advanced hour, and to balance accounts by -lying abed on the following morning. This idiosyncrasy of his was well -known in the neighborhood and respected, and it was generally bold to -be both bad taste and unsafe to visit Bat's shop until near the -fashionable hour for luncheon, when the great one, shirt-sleeved and -smoking a short pipe, would appear in the doorway, looking out upon the -world and giving it to understand that he was now open to be approached -by deserving acquaintances. - -When, therefore, at ten o'clock in the morning his slumbers were cut -short by a sharp rapping at the front door, his first impression was -that he had been dreaming. When, after a brief interval, the noise was -resumed, he rose in his might and, knuckling the sleep from his eyes, -went down, tight-lipped, to interview this person. - -He had got as far as a preliminary "Say!" when speech was wiped from -his lips as with a sponge, and he stood gaping and ashamed, for the -murderer of sleep and untimely knocker on front doors was Betty. - -Mr. Jarvis had not forgotten Betty. His meeting with her at the office -of _Peaceful Moments_ had marked an epoch in his life. Never -before had anyone quite like her crossed his path, and at that moment -romance had come to him. His was essentially a respectful admiration. -He was content--indeed, he preferred to worship from afar. Of his own -initiative he would never have met her again. In her presence, with -those gray eyes of hers looking at him, tremors ran down his spine, and -his conscience, usually a battered and downtrodden wreck, became -fiercely aggressive. She filled him with novel emotions, and whether -these were pleasant or painful was more than he could say. He had not -the gift of analysis where his feelings were concerned. To himself he -put it, broadly, that she made him feel like a nickel with a hole in -it. But that was not entirely satisfactory. There were other and -pleasanter emotions mixed in with this humility. The thought of her -made him feel, for instance, vaguely chivalrous. He wanted to do risky -and useful things for her. Thus, if any fresh guy should endeavor to -get gay with her, it would, he felt, be a privilege to fix that same -guy. If she should be in bad, he would be more than ready to get busy -on her behalf. - -But he had never expected to meet her again, certainly not on his own -doorstep at ten in the morning. To Bat ten in the morning was included -with the small hours. - -Betty smiled at him, a little anxiously. She had no suspicion that she -played star to Mr. Jarvis' moth in the latter's life, and, as she eyed -him, standing there on the doorstep, her excuse for coming to him began -to seem terribly flimsy. Not being aware that he was in reality a tough -Bayard, keenly desirous of obeying her lightest word, she had staked -her all on the chance of his remembering the cat episode and being -grateful on account of it; and in the cold light of the morning this -idea, born in the watches of the night, when things tend to lose their -proportion, struck her as less happy than she had fancied. Suppose he -had forgotten all about it! Suppose he should be violent! For a moment -her heart sank. He certainly was not a pleasing and encouraging sight, -as he stood there blinking at her. No man looks his best immediately on -rising from bed, and Bat, even at his best, was not a hero of romance. -His forelock drooped dankly over his brow; there was stubble on his -chin; his eyes were red, like a dog's. He did not look like the Fairy -Prince who was to save her in her trouble. - -"I--I hope you remember me, Mr. Jarvis," she faltered. "Your cat. I--" - -He nodded speechlessly. Hideous things happened to his face. He was -really trying to smile pleasantly, but it seemed a scowl to Betty, and -her voice died away. - -Mr. Jarvis spoke. - -"Ma'am--sure!--step 'nside." - -Betty followed him into the shop. There were birds in cages on the -walls, and, patroling the floor, a great company of cats, each with its -leather collar. One rubbed itself against Betty's skirt. She picked it -up, and began to stroke it. And, looking over its head at Mr. Jarvis, -she was aware that he was beaming sheepishly. - -His eyes darted away the instant they met hers, but Betty had seen -enough to show her that she had mistaken nervousness for truculence. -Immediately, she was at her ease, and womanlike, had begun to control -the situation. She made conversation pleasantly, praising the cats, -admiring the birds, touching lightly on the general subject of domestic -pets, until her woman's sixth sense told her that her host's panic had -passed, and that she might now proceed to discuss business. - -"I hope you don't mind my coming to you, Mr. Jarvis," she said. "You -know you told me to if ever I were in trouble, so I've taken you at -your word. You don't mind?" - -Mr. Jarvis gulped, and searched for words. - -"Glad," he said at last. - -"I've left _Peaceful Moments_. You know I used to be stenographer -there." - -She was surprised and gratified to see a look of consternation spread -itself across Mr. Jarvis' face. It was a hopeful sign that he should -take her cause to heart to such an extent. - -But Mr. Jarvis' consternation was not due wholly to solicitude for her. -His thoughts at that moment, put, after having been expurgated, into -speech, might have been summed up in the line: "Of all sad words of -tongue or pen the saddest are these, 'It might have been'!" - -"Ain't youse woikin' dere no more? Is dat right?" he gasped. "Gee! I -wisht I'd 'a' known it sooner. Why, a guy come to me and wants to give -me half a ton of the long green to go to dat poiper what youse was -woikin' on and fix de guy what's runnin' it. An' I truns him down 'cos -I don't want you to be frown out of your job. Say, why youse quit -woikin' dere?" His eyes narrowed as an idea struck him. "Say," he went -on, "you ain't bin fired? Has de boss give youse de trun-down? 'Cos if -he has, say de woid and I'll fix him for youse, loidy. An' it won't set -you back a nickel," he concluded handsomely. - -"No, no," cried Betty, horrified. "Mr. Smith has been very kind to me. -I left of my own free will." - -Mr. Jarvis looked disappointed. His demeanor was like that of some -mediaeval knight called back on the eve of starting out to battle with -the Paynim for the honor of his lady. - -"What was that you said about the man who came to you and offered you -money?" asked Betty. - -Her mind had flashed back to Mr. Parker's visit, and her heart was -beating quickly. - -"Sure! He come to me all right an' wants de guy on de poiper fixed. An' -I truns him down." - -"Oh! You won't dream of doing anything to hurt Mr. Smith, will you, Mr. -Jarvis?" said Betty anxiously. - -"Not if you say so, loidy." - -"And your--friends? You won't let them do anything?" - -"Nope." - -Betty breathed freely again. Her knowledge of the East Side was small, -and that there might be those there who acted independently of Mr. -Jarvis, disdainful of his influence, did not occur to her. She returned -to her own affairs, satisfied that danger no longer threatened. - -"Mr. Jarvis, I wonder if you can help me. I want to find some work to -do," she said. - -"Woik?" - -"I have to earn my living, you see, and I'm afraid I don't know how to -begin." - -Mr. Jarvis pondered. "What sort of woik?" - -"Any sort," said Betty -valiantly. "I don't care what it is." - -Mr. Jarvis knitted his brows in thought. He was not used to being an -employment agency. But Betty was Betty, and even at the cost of a -headache he must think of something. - -At the end of five minutes inspiration came to him. - -"Say," he said, "what do youse call de guy dat sits an' takes de money -at an eatin'-joint? Cashier? Well, say, could youse be dat?" - -"It would be just the thing. Do you know a place?" - -"Sure. Just around de corner. I'll take you dere." - -Betty waited while he put on his coat, and they started out. Betty -chatted as they walked, but Mr. Jarvis, who appeared a little -self-conscious beneath the unconcealed interest of the neighbors, was -silent. At intervals he would turn and glare ferociously at the heads -that popped out of windows or protruded from doorways. Fame has its -penalties, and most of the population of that portion of the Bowery had -turned out to see their most prominent citizen so romantically employed -as a squire of dames. - -After a short walk Bat halted the expedition before a dingy restaurant. -The glass window bore in battered letters the name, Fontelli. - -"Dis is de joint," he said. - -Inside the restaurant a dreamy-eyed Italian sat gazing at vacancy and -twirling a pointed mustache. In a far corner a solitary customer was -finishing a late breakfast. - -Signor Fontelli, for the sad-eyed exile was he, sprang to his feet at -the sight of Mr. Jarvis' well-known figure. An ingratiating, but -nervous, smile came into view behind the pointed mustache. - -"Hey, Tony," said Mr. Jarvis, coming at once to the point, "I want you -to know dis loidy. She's going to be cashier at dis joint." - -Signor Fontelli looked at Betty and shook his head. He smiled -deprecatingly. His manner seemed to indicate that, while she met with -the approval of Fontelli, the slave of her sex, to Fontelli, the -employer, she appealed in vain. He gave his mustache a sorrowful twirl. - -"Ah, no," he sighed. "Not da cashier do I need. I take-a myself da -money." - -Mr. Jarvis looked at him coldly. He continued to look at him coldly. -His lower jaw began slowly to protrude, and his forehead retreated -further behind its zareba of forelock. - -There was a pause. The signor was plainly embarrassed. - -"Dis loidy," repeated Mr. Jarvis, "is cashier at dis joint at six -per--" He paused. "Does dat go?" he added smoothly. - -Certainly there was magnetism about Mr. Jarvis. With a minimum of words -he produced remarkable results. Something seemed to happen suddenly to -Signor Fontelli's spine. He wilted like a tired flower. A gesture, in -which were blended resignation, humility, and a desire to be at peace -with all men, particularly Mr. Jarvis, completed his capitulation. - -Mr. Jarvis waited while Betty was instructed in her simple duties, then -drew her aside. - -"Say," he remarked confidentially, "youse'll be all right here. Six per -ain't all de dough dere is in de woild, but, bein' cashier, see, you -can swipe a whole heap more whenever you feel like it. And if Tony -registers a kick, I'll come around and talk to him--see? Dat's right. -Good-morning, loidy." - -And, having delivered these admirable hints to young cashiers in a -hurry to get rich, Mr. Jarvis ducked his head in a species of bow, -declined to be thanked, and shuffled out into the street, leaving Betty -to open her new career by taking thirty-seven cents from the late -breakfaster. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -CHANGES IN THE STAFF - - -Three days had elapsed since the battle which had opened the campaign, -and there had been no further movement on the part of the enemy. Smith -was puzzled. A strange quiet seemed to be brooding over the other camp. -He could not believe that a single defeat had crushed the foe, but it -was hard to think of any other explanation. - -It was Pugsy Maloney who, on the fourth morning, brought to the office -the inner history of the truce. His version was brief and unadorned, as -was the way with his narratives. Such things as first causes and -piquant details he avoided, as tending to prolong the telling -excessively, thus keeping him from the perusal of his cowboy stories. -He gave the thing out merely as an item of general interest, a bubble -on the surface of the life of a great city. He did not know how nearly -interested were his employers in any matter touching that gang which is -known as the Three Points. - -Pugsy said: "Dere's been fuss'n going on down where I live. Dude -Dawson's mad at Spider Reilly, and now de Table Hills is layin' for de -T'ree Points, to soak it to 'em. Dat's right." - -He then retired to his outer fastness, yielding further details jerkily -and with the distrait air of one whose mind is elsewhere. - -Skilfully extracted and pieced together, these details formed -themselves into the following typical narrative of East Side life. - -There were four really important gangs in New York at this time. There -were other less important institutions besides, but these were little -more than mere friendly gatherings of old boyhood chums for purposes of -mutual companionship. They might grow into formidable organizations in -time, but for the moment the amount of ice which good judges declared -them to cut was but small. They would "stick up" an occasional wayfarer -for his "cush," and they carried "canisters" and sometimes fired them -off, but these things do not signify the cutting of ice. In matters -political there were only four gangs which counted, the East Side, the -Groome Street, the Three Points and the Table Hill. Greatest of these, -by virtue of their numbers, were the East Side and the Groome Street, -the latter presided over at the time of this story by Mr. Bat Jarvis. -These two were colossal, and, though they might fight each other, were -immune from attack at the hands of the rest. - -But between the other gangs, and especially between the Table Hill and -the Three Points, which were much of a size, warfare raged as -frequently as among the Republics of South America. There had always -been bad blood between the Table Hill and the Three Points. Little -events, trifling in themselves, had always occurred to shatter friendly -relations just when there seemed a chance of their being formed. Thus, -just as the Table Hillites were beginning to forgive the Three Points -for shooting the redoubtable Paul Horgan down at Coney Island, a Three -Pointer injudiciously wiped out a Table Hillite near Canal Street. He -pleaded self-defense, and in any case it was probably mere -thoughtlessness, but nevertheless the Table Hillites were ruffled. - -That had been a month or so back. During that month things had been -simmering down, and peace was just preparing to brood when there -occurred the incident alluded to by Pugsy, the regrettable falling out -between Dude Dawson and Spider Reilly. - -To be as brief as possible, Dude Dawson had gone to spend a happy -evening at a dancing saloon named Shamrock Hall, near Groome Street. -Now, Shamrock Hall belonged to a Mr. Maginnis, a friend of Bat Jarvis, -and was under the direct protection of that celebrity. It was, -therefore, sacred ground, and Mr. Dawson visited it in a purely private -and peaceful capacity. The last thing he intended was to spoil the -harmony of the evening. - -Alas for the best intentions! Two-stepping clumsily round the room--for -he was a poor, though enthusiastic, dancer--Dude Dawson collided with -and upset a certain Reddy Davis and his partner. Reddy Davis was a -member of the Three Points, and his temper was the temper of a -red-headed man. He "slugged" Mr. Dawson. Mr. Dawson, more skilful at -the fray than at the dance, joined battle willingly, and they were -absorbed in a stirring combat, when an interruption occurred. In the -far corner of the room, surrounded by admiring friends, sat Spider -Reilly, monarch of the Three Points. He had noticed that there was a -slight disturbance at the other side of the hall, but had given it -little attention till the dancing ceasing suddenly and the floor -emptying itself of its crowd, he had a plain view of Mr. Dawson and Mr. -Davis squaring up at each other for the second round. - -We must assume that Mr. Reilly was not thinking of what he did, for his -action was contrary to all rules of gang etiquette. In the street it -would have been perfectly legitimate, even praiseworthy, but in a -dance-hall under the protection of a neutral power it was unpardonable. - -What he did was to produce his revolver, and shoot the unsuspecting Mr. -Dawson in the leg. Having done which, he left hurriedly, fearing the -wrath of Bat Jarvis. - -Mr. Dawson, meanwhile, was attended to and helped home. Willing -informants gave him the name of his aggressor, and before morning the -Table Hill camp was in a ferment. Shooting broke out in three places, -though there were no casualties. - -When the day dawned there existed between the two gangs a state of war -more bitter than any in their record, for this time it was chieftain -who had assaulted chieftain, Royal blood had been spilt. - -Such was the explanation of the lull in the campaign against -_Peaceful Moments_. The new war had taken the mind of Spider -Reilly and his warriors off the paper and its affairs for the moment, -much as the unexpected appearance of a mad bull would make a man forget -that he had come out snipe-shooting. - -At present there had been no pitched battle. As was usual between the -gangs, war had broken out in a somewhat tentative fashion at first. -There had been skirmishes by the wayside, but nothing more. The two -armies were sparring for an opening. - - * * * * * - -Smith was distinctly relieved at the respite, for necessitating careful -thought. This was the defection of Kid Brady. - -The Kid's easy defeat of Cyclone Dick Fisher had naturally created a -sensation in sporting circles. He had become famous in a night. It was -not with surprise, therefore, that Smith received from his fighting -editor the information that he had been matched against one Eddie Wood, -whose fame outshone even that of the late Cyclone. - -The Kid, a white man to the core, exhibited quite a feudal loyalty to -the paper which had raised him from the ruck and placed him on the road -to eminence. - -"Say the word," he said, "and I'll call it off. If you feel you need me -around here, Mr. Smith, say so, and I'll side-step Eddie." - -"Comrade Brady," said Smith with enthusiasm, "I have had occasion -before to call you sport. I do so again. But I'm not going to stand in -your way. If you eliminate this Comrade Wood, they will have to give -you a chance against Jimmy Garvin, won't they?" - -"I guess that's right," said the Kid. "Eddie stayed nineteen rounds -against Jimmy, and, if I can put him away, it gets me clear into line -with Jim, and he'll have to meet me." - -"Then go in and win, Comrade Brady. We shall miss you. It will be as if -a ray of sunshine had been removed from the office. But you mustn't -throw a chance away." - -"I'll train at White Plains," said the Kid, "so I'll be pretty near in -case I'm wanted." - -"Oh, we shall be all right," said Smith, "and if you win, we'll bring -out a special number. Good luck, Comrade Brady, and many thanks for -your help." - - * * * * * - -John, when he arrived at the office and learned the news, was for -relying on their own unaided efforts. - -"And, anyway," he said, "I don't see who else there is to help us. You -could tell the police, I suppose," he went on doubtfully. - -Smith shook his head. - -"The New York policeman, Comrade John, is, like all great men, somewhat -peculiar. If you go to a New York policeman and exhibit a black eye, he -is more likely to express admiration for the handiwork of the citizen -responsible for the same than sympathy. No; since coming to this city I -have developed a habit of taking care of myself, or employing private -help. I do not want allies who will merely shake their heads at Comrade -Reilly and his merry men, however sternly. I want someone who, if -necessary, will soak it to them good." - -"Sure," said John. "But who is there now the Kid's gone?" - -"Who else but Comrade Jarvis?" said Smith. - -"Jarvis? Bat Jarvis?" - -"The same. I fancy that we shall find, on enquiry, that we are ace -high with him. At any rate, there is no harm in sounding him. It is -true that he may have forgotten, or it may be that it is to Comrade -Brown alone that he is--" - -"Who's Brown?" asked John. - -"Our late stenographer," explained Smith. "A Miss Brown. She -entertained Comrade Jarvis' cat, if you remember. I wonder what has -become of her. She has sent in three more corking efforts on the -subject of Broster Street, but she gives no address. I wish I knew -where she was. I'd have liked for you to meet her." - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -A GATHERING OF CAT SPECIALISTS - - -"It will probably be necessary," said Smith, as they set out for -Groome Street, "to allude to you, Comrade John, in the course of this -interview, as one of our most eminent living cat-fanciers. You have -never met Comrade Jarvis, I believe? Well, he is a gentleman with just -about enough forehead to prevent his front hair getting inextricably -blended with his eyebrows, and he owns twenty-three cats, each with a -leather collar round its neck. It is, I fancy, the cat note which we -shall have to strike to-day. If only Comrade Brown were with us, we -could appeal to his finer feelings. But he has seen me only once and -you never, and I should not care to bet that he will feel the least -particle of dismay at the idea of our occiputs getting all mussed up -with a black-jack. But when I inform him that you are an English -cat-fancier, and that in your island home you have seventy-four fine -cats, mostly Angoras, that will be a different matter. I shall be -surprised if he does not fall on your neck." - -They found Mr. Jarvis in his fancier's shop, engaged in the -intellectual occupation of greasing a cat's paws with butter. He looked -up as they entered, and then resumed his task. - -"Comrade Jarvis," said Smith, "we meet again. You remember me?" - -"Nope," said Mr. Jarvis promptly. - -Smith was not discouraged. - -"Ah!" he said tolerantly, "the fierce rush of New York life! How it -wipes from the retina to-day the image impressed on it but yesterday. -Is it not so, Comrade Jarvis?" - -The cat-expert concentrated himself on his patient's paws without -replying. - -"A fine animal," said Smith, adjusting his monocle. "To what -particular family of the _Felis Domestica_ does that belong? In -color it resembles a Neapolitan ice more than anything." - -Mr. Jarvis' manner became unfriendly. - -"Say, what do youse want? That's straight, ain't it? If youse want to -buy a boid or a snake, why don't youse say so?" - -"I stand corrected," said Smith; "I should have remembered that time -is money. I called in here partly in the hope that, though you only met -me once--on the stairs of my office, you might retain pleasant -recollections of me, but principally in order that I might make two -very eminent cat-fanciers acquainted. This," he said, with a wave of -his hand in the direction of John, "is Comrade Maude, possibly the -best known of English cat-fanciers. Comrade Maude's stud of Angoras is -celebrated wherever the English language is spoken." - -Mr. Jarvis's expression changed. He rose, and, having inspected John -with silent admiration for a while, extended a well-buttered hand -towards him. Smith looked on benevolently. - -"What Comrade Maude does not know about cats," he said, "is not -knowledge. His information on Angoras alone would fill a volume." - -"Say"--Mr. Jarvis was evidently touching on a point which had weighed -deeply upon him--"why's catnip called catnip?" - -John looked at Smith helplessly. It sounded like a riddle, but it was -obvious that Mr. Jarvis's motive in putting the question was not -frivolous. He really wished to know. - -"The word, as Comrade Maude was just about to observe," said Smith, "is -a corruption of catmint. Why it should be so corrupted I do not know. -But what of that? The subject is too deep to be gone fully into at the -moment. I should recommend you to read Mr. Maude's little brochure on -the matter. Passing lightly on from that--" - -"Did youse ever have a cat dat ate bettles?" enquired Mr. Jarvis. - -"There was a time when many of Comrade Maude's _Felidae_ supported -life almost entirely on beetles." - -"Did they git thin?" - -John felt it was time, if he were to preserve his reputation, to assert -himself. - -"No," he replied firmly. - -Mr. Jarvis looked astonished. - -"English beetles," said Smith, "don't make cats thin. Passing -lightly--" - -"I had a cat oncst," said Mr. Jarvis, ignoring the remark and sticking -to his point, "dat ate beetles and got thin and used to tie itself -inter knots." - -"A versatile animal," agreed Smith. - -"Say," Mr. Jarvis went on, now plainly on a subject near to his heart, -"dem beetles is fierce. Sure! Can't keep de cats off of eatin' dem, I -can't. First t'ing you know dey've swallowed dem, and den dey gits thin -and ties theirselves into knots." - -"You should put them into strait-waistcoats," said Smith. "Passing, -however, lightly--" - -"Say, ever have a cross-eyed cat?" - -"Comrade Maude's cats," said Smith, "have happily been almost entirely -free from strabismus." - -"Dey's lucky, cross-eyed cats is. You has a cross-eyed cat, and not'in' -don't never go wrong. But, say, was dere ever a cat wit' one blue and -one yaller one in your bunch? Gee! it's fierce when it's like dat. It's -a skidoo, is a cat wit' one blue eye and one yaller one. Puts you in -bad, surest t'ing you know. Oncst a guy give me a cat like dat, and -first t'ing you know I'm in bad all round. It wasn't till I give him -away to de cop on de corner and gets me one dat's cross-eyed dat I -lifts de skidoo off of me." - -"And what happened to the cop?" enquired Smith, interested. - -"Oh, he got in bad, sure enough," said Mr. Jarvis without emotion. "One -of de boys what he'd pinched and had sent up the road once lays for -him and puts one over on him wit a black-jack. Sure. Dat's what comes -of havin' a cat wit' one blue and one yaller one." - -Mr. Jarvis relapsed into silence. He seemed to be meditating on the -inscrutable workings of Fate. Smith took advantage of the pause to -leave the cat topic and touch on matters of more vital import. - -"Tense and exhilarating as is this discussion of the optical -peculiarities of cats," he said, "there is another matter on which, if -you will permit me, I should like to touch. I would hesitate to bore -you with my own private troubles, but this is a matter which concerns -Comrade Maude as well as myself, and I can see that your regard for -Comrade Maude is almost an obsession." - -"How's that?" - -"I can see," said Smith, "that Comrade Maude is a man to whom you give -the glad hand." - -Mr. Jarvis regarded John with respectful affection. - -"Sure! He's to the good, Mr. Maude is." - -"Exactly," said Smith. "To resume, then. The fact is, Comrade Jarvis, -we are much persecuted by scoundrels. How sad it is in this world! We -look to every side. We look to north, east, south, and west, and what -do we see? Mainly scoundrels. I fancy you have heard a little about our -troubles before this. In fact, I gather that the same scoundrels -actually approached you with a view to engaging your services to do us -up, but that you very handsomely refused the contract. We are the staff -of _Peaceful Moments_." - -"_Peaceful Moments_," said Mr. Jarvis. "Sure, dat's right. A guy -comes to me and says he wants you put through it, but I gives him de -trundown." - -"So I was informed," said Smith. "Well, failing you, they went to a -gentleman of the name of Reilly--" - -"Spider Reilly?" - -"Exactly. Spider Reilly, the lessee and manager of the Three Points -gang." - -Mr. Jarvis frowned. - -"Dose T'ree Points, dey're to de bad. Dey're fresh." - -"It is too true, Comrade Jarvis." - -"Say," went on Mr. Jarvis, waxing wrathful at the recollection, "what -do youse t'ink dem fresh stiffs done de odder night? Started some rough -woik in me own dance-joint." - -"Shamrock Hall?" said Smith. "I heard about it." - -"Dat's right, Shamrock Hall. Got gay, dey did, wit' some of the Table -Hillers. Say, I got it in for dem gazebos, sure I have. Surest t'ing -you know." - -Smith beamed approval. - -"That," he said, "is the right spirit. Nothing could be more admirable. -We are bound together by our common desire to check the ever-growing -spirit of freshness among the members of the Three Points. Add to that -the fact that we are united by a sympathetic knowledge of the manners -and customs of cats, and especially that Comrade Maude, England's -greatest fancier, is our mutual friend, and what more do we want? -Nothing." - -"Mr. Maude's to de good," assented Mr. Jarvis, eying John once more in -friendly fashion. - -"We are all to the good," said Smith. "Now, the thing I wished to ask -you is this. The office of the paper was, until this morning, securely -guarded by Comrade Brady, whose name will be familiar to you." - -"De Kid?" - -"On the bull's-eye, as usual. Kid Brady, the coming light-weight -champion of the world. Well, he has unfortunately been compelled to -leave us, and the way into the office is consequently clear to any -sand-bag specialist who cares to wander in. So what I came to ask was, -will you take Comrade Brady's place for a few days?" - -"How's that?" - -"Will you come in and sit in the office for the next day or so and help -hold the fort? I may mention that there is money attached to the job. -We will pay for your services." - -Mr. Jarvis reflected but a brief moment. - -"Why, sure," he said. "Me fer dat." - -"Excellent, Comrade Jarvis. Nothing could be better. We will see you -to-morrow, then. I rather fancy that the gay band of Three Pointers who -will undoubtedly visit the offices of _Peaceful Moments_ in the -next few days is scheduled to run up against the surprise of their -lives." - -"Sure t'ing. I'll bring me canister." - -"Do," said Smith. "In certain circumstances one canister is worth a -flood of rhetoric. Till to-morrow, then, Comrade Jarvis. I am very much -obliged to you." - - * * * * * - -"Not at all a bad hour's work," he said complacently, as they turned -out of Groome Street. "A vote of thanks to you, John, for your -invaluable assistance." - -"I didn't do much," said John, with a grin. - -"Apparently, no. In reality, yes. Your manner was exactly right. -Reserved, yet not haughty. Just what an eminent cat-fancier's manner -should be. I could see that you made a pronounced hit with Comrade -Jarvis. By the way, as he is going to show up at the office to-morrow, -perhaps it would be as well if you were to look up a few facts bearing -on the feline world. There is no knowing what thirst for information a -night's rest may not give Comrade Jarvis. I do not presume to dictate, -but if you were to make yourself a thorough master of the subject of -catnip, for instance, it might quite possibly come in useful." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE RETIREMENT OF SMITH - - -The first member of the staff of _Peaceful Moments_ to arrive at -the office on the following morning was Master Maloney. This sounds -like the beginning of a "Plod and Punctuality," or "How Great Fortunes -have been Made" story, but, as a matter of fact, Master Maloney, like -Mr. Bat Jarvis, was no early bird. Larks who rose in his neighborhood, -rose alone. He did not get up with them. He was supposed to be at the -office at nine o'clock. It was a point of honor with him, a sort of -daily declaration of independence, never to put in an appearance before -nine-thirty. On this particular morning he was punctual to the minute, -or half an hour late, whichever way you choose to look at it. - -He had only whistled a few bars of "My Little Irish Rose," and had -barely got into the first page of his story of life on the prairie, -when Kid Brady appeared. The Kid had come to pay a farewell visit. He -had not yet begun training, and he was making the best of the short -time before such comforts should be forbidden by smoking a big black -cigar. Master Maloney eyed him admiringly. The Kid, unknown to that -gentleman himself, was Pugsy's ideal. He came from the Plains, and had, -indeed, once actually been a cowboy; he was a coming champion; and he -could smoke big black cigars. There was no trace of his official -well-what-is-it-now? air about Pugsy as he laid down his book and -prepared to converse. - -"Say, Mr. Smith around anywhere, Pugsy?" asked the Kid. - -"Naw, Mr. Brady. He ain't came yet," replied Master Maloney -respectfully. - -"Late, ain't he?" - -"Sure! He generally blows in before I do." - -"Wonder what's keepin' him?" - -As he spoke, John appeared. "Hello, Kid," he said. "Come to say -good-by?" - -"Yep," said the Kid. "Seen Mr. Smith around anywhere, Mr. Maude?" - -"Hasn't he come yet? I guess he'll be here soon. Hello, who's this?" - -A small boy was standing at the door, holding a note. - -"Mr. Maude?" he said. "Cop at Jefferson Market give me dis fer you." - -"What!" He took the letter, and gave the boy a dime. "Why, it's from -Smith. Great Scott!" - -It was apparent that the Kid was politely endeavoring to veil his -curiosity. Master Maloney had no such delicacy. - -"What's in de letter, boss?" he enquired. - -"The letter," said John slowly, "is from Mr. Smith. And it says that he -was sentenced this morning to thirty days on the Island for resisting -the police." - -"He's de guy!" admitted Master Maloney approvingly. - -"What's that?" said the Kid. "Mr. Smith been slugging cops! What's he -been doin' that for?" - -"I must go and find out at once. It beats me." - -It did not take John long to reach Jefferson Market, and by the -judicious expenditure of a few dollars he was enabled to obtain an -interview with Smith in a back room. - -The editor of _Peaceful Moments_ was seated on a bench, looking -remarkably disheveled. There was a bruise on his forehead, just where -the hair began. He was, however, cheerful. - -"Ah, John," he said. "You got my note all right, then?" John looked at -him, concerned. - -"What on earth does it all mean?" - -Smith heaved a regretful sigh. - -"I fear," he said, "I have made precisely the blamed fool of myself -that Comrade Parker hoped I would." - -"Parker!" - -Smith nodded. - -"I may be misjudging him, but I seem to see the hand of Comrade Parker -in this. We had a raid at my house last night, John. We were pulled." - -"What on earth--?" - -"Somebody--if it was not Comrade Parker it was some other citizen -dripping with public spirit--tipped the police off that certain sports -were running a pool-room in the house where I live." - -On his departure from the _News_, Smith, from motives of economy, -had moved from his hotel in Washington Square and taken a furnished -room on Fourteenth Street. - -"There actually was a pool-room there," he went on, "so possibly I am -wronging Comrade Parker in thinking that this was a scheme of his for -getting me out of the way. At any rate, somebody gave the tip, and at -about three o'clock this morning I was aroused from a dreamless slumber -by quite a considerable hammering at my door. There, standing on the -mat, were two policemen. Very cordially the honest fellows invited me -to go with them. A conveyance, it seemed, waited in the street without. -I disclaimed all connection with the bad gambling persons below, but -they replied that they were cleaning up the house, and, if I wished to -make any remarks, I had better make them to the magistrate. This seemed -reasonable. I said I would put on some clothes and come along. They -demurred. They said they couldn't wait about while I put on clothes. I -pointed out that sky-blue pajamas with old-rose frogs were not the -costume in which the editor of a great New York weekly paper should be -seen abroad in one of the world's greatest cities, but they assured -me--more by their manner than their words--that my misgivings were -groundless, so I yielded. These men, I told myself, have lived longer -in New York than I. They know what is done, and what is not done. I -will bow to their views. So I was starting to go with them like a lamb, -when one of them gave me a shove in the ribs with his night stick. And -it was here that I fancy I may have committed a slight error of -policy." - -He smiled dreamily for a moment, then went on. - -"I admit that the old Berserk blood of the Smiths boiled at that -juncture. I picked up a sleep-producer from the floor, as Comrade Brady -would say, and handed it to the big-stick merchant. He went down like a -sack of coal over the bookcase, and at that moment I rather fancy the -other gentleman must have got busy with his club. At any rate, somebody -suddenly loosed off some fifty thousand dollars' worth of fireworks, -and the next thing I knew was that the curtain had risen for the next -act on me, discovered sitting in a prison cell, with an out-size in -lumps on my forehead." - -He sighed again. - -"What _Peaceful Moments_ really needs," he said, "is a -_sitz-redacteur_. A _sitz-redacteur_, John, is a gentleman -employed by German newspapers with a taste for _lese-majeste_ to -go to prison whenever required in place of the real editor. The real -editor hints in his bright and snappy editorial, for instance, that the -Kaiser's mustache gives him bad dreams. The police force swoops down -in a body on the office of the journal, and are met by the -_sitz-redacteur_, who goes with them cheerfully, allowing the -editor to remain and sketch out plans for his next week's article -on the Crown Prince. We need a _sitz-redacteur_ on _Peaceful -Moments_ almost as much as a fighting editor. Not now, of course. -This has finished the thing. You'll have to close down the paper now." - -"Close it down!" cried John. "You bet I won't." - -"My dear old son," said Smith seriously, "what earthly reason have you -for going on with it? You only came in to help me, and I am no more. I -am gone like some beautiful flower that withers in the night. Where's -the sense of getting yourself beaten up then? Quit!" - -John shook his head. - -"I wouldn't quit now if you paid me." - -"But--" - -A policeman appeared at the door. - -"Say, pal," he remarked to John, "you'll have to be fading away soon, I -guess. Give you three minutes more. Say it quick." - -He retired. Smith looked at John. - -"You won't quit?" he said. - -"No." - -Smith smiled. - -"You're an all-wool sport, John," he said. "I don't suppose you know -how to spell quit. Well, then, if you are determined to stand by the -ship like Comrade Casabianca, I'll tell you an idea that came to me in -the watches of the night. If ever you want to get ideas, John, you -spend a night in one of these cells. They flock to you. I suppose I did -more profound thinking last night than I've ever done in my life. Well, -here's the idea. Act on it or not, as you please. I was thinking over -the whole business from soup to nuts, and it struck me that the -queerest part of it all is that whoever owns these Broster Street -tenements should care a Canadian dime whether we find out who he is or -not." - -"Well, there's the publicity," began John. - -"Tush!" said Smith. "And possibly bah! Do you suppose that the sort of -man who runs Broster Street is likely to care a darn about publicity? -What does it matter to him if the papers soak it to him for about two -days? He knows they'll drop him and go on to something else on the -third, and he knows he's broken no law. No, there's something more in -this business than that. Don't think that this bright boy wants to hush -us up simply because he is a sensitive plant who can't bear to think -that people should be cross with him. He has got some private reason -for wanting to lie low." - -"Well, but what difference--?" - -"Comrade, I'll tell you. It makes this difference: that the rents are -almost certainly collected by some confidential person belonging to his -own crowd, not by an ordinary collector. In other words, the collector -knows the name of the man he's collecting for. But for this little -misfortune of mine, I was going to suggest that we waylay that -collector, administer the Third Degree, and ask him who his boss is." - -John uttered an exclamation. - -"You're right! I'll do it." - -"You think you can? Alone?" - -"Sure! Don't you worry. I'll--" - -The door opened and the policeman reappeared. - -"Time's up. Slide, sonny." - -John said good-by to Smith, and went out. He had a last glimpse of his -late editor, a sad smile on his face, telling the policeman what was -apparently a humorous story. Complete good will seemed to exist between -them. John consoled himself as he went away with the reflection that -Smith's was a temperament that would probably find a bright side even -to a thirty-days' visit to Blackwell's Island. - -He walked thoughtfully back to the office. There was something lonely, -and yet wonderfully exhilarating, in the realization that he was now -alone and in sole charge of the campaign. It braced him. For the first -time in several weeks he felt positively light-hearted. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE CAMPAIGN QUICKENS - - -Mr. Jarvis was as good as his word. Early in the afternoon he made his -appearance at the office of _Peaceful Moments_, his forelock more -than usually well oiled in honor of the occasion, and his right -coat-pocket bulging in a manner that betrayed to the initiated eye the -presence of his trusty "canister." With him, in addition, he brought a -long, thin young man who wore under his brown tweed coat a blue-and-red -striped sweater. Whether he brought him as an ally in case of need or -merely as a kindred soul with whom he might commune during his vigil, -did not appear. - -Pugsy, startled out of his wonted calm by the arrival of this -distinguished company, gazed after the pair, as they passed into the -inner office, with protruding eyes. - -John greeted the allies warmly, and explained Smith's absence. Mr. -Jarvis listened to the story with interest, and introduced his -colleague. - -"T'ought I'd let him chase along. Long Otto's his monaker." - -"Sure!" said John. "The more the merrier. Take a seat. You'll find -cigars over there. You won't mind my not talking for the moment? -There's a wad of work to clear up." - -This was an overstatement. He was comparatively free of work, press day -having only just gone by; but he was keenly anxious to avoid -conversation on the subject of cats, of his ignorance of which Mr. -Jarvis's appearance had suddenly reminded him. He took up an old proof -sheet and began to glance through it, frowning thoughtfully. - -Mr. Jarvis regarded the paraphernalia of literature on the table with -interest. So did Long Otto, who, however, being a man of silent habit, -made no comment. Throughout the seance and the events which followed it -he confined himself to an occasional grunt. He seemed to lack other -modes of expression. - -"Is dis where youse writes up pieces fer de poiper?" enquired Mr. -Jarvis. - -"This is the spot," said John. "On busy mornings you could hear our -brains buzzing in Madison Square Garden. Oh, one moment." - -He rose and went into the outer office. - -"Pugsy," he said, "do you know Broster Street?" - -"Sure." - -"Could you find out for me exactly when the man comes round collecting -the rents?" - -"Surest t'ing you know. I knows a kid what knows anodder kid what lives -dere." - -"Then go and do it now. And, after you've found out, you can take the -rest of the day off." - -"Me fer dat," said Master Maloney with enthusiasm. "I'll take me goil -to de Bronx Zoo." - -"Your girl? I didn't know you'd got a girl, Pugsy. I always imagined -you as one of those strong, stern, blood-and-iron men who despised -girls. Who is she?" - -"Aw, she's a kid," said Pugsy. "Her pa runs a delicatessen shop down -our street. She ain't a bad mutt," added the ardent swain. "I'm her -steady." - -"Well, mind you send me a card for the wedding. And if two dollars -would be a help--" - -"Sure t'ing. T'anks, boss. You're all right." - -It had occurred to John that the less time Pugsy spent in the outer -office during the next few days, the better. The lull in the warfare -could not last much longer, and at any moment a visit from Spider -Reilly and his adherents might be expected. Their probable first move -in such an event would be to knock Master Maloney on the head to -prevent his giving warning of their approach. - -Events proved that he had not been mistaken. He had not been back in -the inner office for more than a quarter of an hour when there came -from without the sound of stealthy movements. The handle of the door -began--to revolve slowly and quietly. The next moment three figures -tumbled into the room. - -It was evident that they had not expected to find the door unlocked, -and the absence of resistance when they applied their weight had -surprising effects. Two of the three did not pause in their career till -they cannoned against the table. The third checked himself by holding -the handle. - -John got up coolly. - -"Come right in," he said. "What can we do for you?" It had been too -dark on the other occasion of his meeting with the Three Pointers to -take note of their faces, though he fancied that he had seen the man -holding the door-handle before. The others were strangers. They were -all exceedingly unprepossessing in appearance. - -There was a pause. The three marauders had become aware of the presence -of Mr. Jarvis and his colleague, and the meeting was causing them -embarrassment, which may have been due in part to the fact that both -had produced and were toying meditatively with ugly-looking pistols. - -Mr. Jarvis spoke. - -"Well," he said, "what's doin'?" - -The man to whom the question was directly addressed appeared to have -some difficulty in finding a reply. He shuffled his feet, and looked at -the floor. His two companions seemed equally at a loss. - -"Goin' to start anything?" enquired Mr. Jarvis, casually. - -The humor of the situation suddenly tickled John. The embarrassment of -the uninvited guests was ludicrous. - -"You've just dropped in for a quiet chat, is that it?" he said. "Well, -we're all delighted to see you. The cigars are on the table. Draw up -your chairs." - -Mr. Jarvis opposed the motion. He drew slow circles in the air with his -revolver. - -"Say! Youse had best beat it. See?" - -Long Otto grunted sympathy with the advice. - -"And youse had best go back to Spider Reilly," continued Mr. Jarvis, -"and tell him there ain't nothin' doing in the way of rough-house wit' -dis gent here. And you can tell de Spider," went on Bat with growing -ferocity, "dat next time he gits fresh and starts in to shootin' up my -dance-joint, I'll bite de head off'n him. See? Dat goes. If he t'inks -his little two-by-four crowd can git way wit' de Groome Street, he's -got anodder guess comin'. An' don't fergit dis gent here and me is -friends, and anyone dat starts anyt'ing wit' dis gent is going to find -trouble. Does dat go? Beat it." - -He jerked his shoulder in the direction of the door. - -The delegation then withdrew. - -"Thanks," said John. "I'm much obliged to you both. You're certainly -there with the goods as fighting editors. I don't know what I should -have done without you." - -"Aw, Chee!" said Mr. Jarvis, handsomely dismissing the matter. Long -Otto kicked the leg of a table, and grunted. - -Pugsy Maloney's report on the following morning was entirely -satisfactory. Rents were collected in Broster Street on Thursdays. -Nothing could have been more convenient, for that very day happened to -be Thursday. - -"I rubbered around," said Pugsy, "an' done de sleut' act, an' it's this -way. Dere's a feller blows in every T'ursday 'bout six o'clock, an' den -it's up to de folks to dig down inter deir jeans for de stuff, or out -dey goes before supper. I got dat from my kid frien' what knows a kid -what lives dere. An' say, he has it pretty fierce, dat kid. De kid what -lives dere. He's a wop kid, an Italian, an' he's in bad 'cos his pa -comes over from Italy to woik on de subway." - -"I don't see why that puts him in bad," said John wonderingly. "You -don't construct your stories well, Pugsy. You start at the end, then go -back to any part which happens to appeal to you at the moment, and -eventually wind up at the beginning. Why is this kid in bad because his -father has come to work on the subway?" - -"Why, sure, because his pa got fired an' swatted de foreman one on de -coco, an' dey gives him t'oity days. So de kid's all alone, an' no one -to pay de rent." - -"I see," said John. "Well, come along with me and introduce me, and -I'll look after that." - -At half-past five John closed the office for the day, and, armed with a -big stick and conducted by Master Maloney, made his way to Broster -Street. To reach it, it was necessary to pass through a section of the -enemy's country, but the perilous passage was safely negotiated. The -expedition reached its unsavory goal intact. - -The wop kid inhabited a small room at the very top of a building -half-way down the street. He was out when John and Pugsy arrived. - -It was not an abode of luxury, the tenement; they had to feel their way -up the stairs in almost pitch darkness. Most of the doors were shut, -but one on the second floor was ajar. Through the opening John had a -glimpse of a number of women sitting on up-turned boxes. The floor was -covered with little heaps of linen. All the women were sewing. -Stumbling in the darkness, John almost fell against the door. None of -the women looked up at the noise. In Broster Street time was evidently -money. - -On the top floor Pugsy halted before the open door of an empty room. -The architect in this case had apparently given rein to a passion for -originality, for he had constructed the apartment without a window of -any sort whatsoever. The entire stock of air used by the occupants came -through a small opening over the door. - -It was a warm day, and John recoiled hastily. - -"Is this the kid's room?" he said. "I guess the corridor's good enough -for me to wait in. What the owner of this place wants," he went on -reflectively, "is scalping. Well, we'll do it in the paper if we can't -in any other way. Is this your kid?" - -A small boy had appeared. He seemed surprised to see visitors. Pugsy -undertook to do the honors. Pugsy, as interpreter, was energetic, but -not wholly successful. He appeared to have a fixed idea that the -Italian language was one easily mastered by the simple method of saying -"da" instead of "the," and adding a final "a" to any word that seemed -to him to need one. - -"Say, kid," he began, "has da rent-a-man come yet-a?" - -The black eyes of the wop kid clouded. He gesticulated, and said -something in his native language. - -"He hasn't got next," reported Master Maloney. "He can't git on to me -curves. Dese wop kids is all bone-heads. Say, kid, look-a here." He -walked to the door, rapped on it smartly, and, assuming a look of -extreme ferocity, stretched out his hand and thundered: "Unbelt-a! -Slip-a me da stuff!" - -The wop kid's puzzlement in the face of this address became pathetic. - -"This," said John, deeply interested, "is getting exciting. Don't give -in, Pugsy. I guess the trouble is that your too perfect Italian accent -is making the kid homesick." - -Master Maloney made a gesture of disgust. - -"I'm t'roo. Dese Dagoes makes me tired. Dey don't know enough to go -upstairs to take de elevated. Beat it, you mutt," he observed with -moody displeasure, accompanying the words with a gesture which conveyed -its own meaning. The wop kid, plainly glad to get away, slipped down -the stairs like a shadow. - -Pugsy shrugged his shoulders. - -"Boss," he said resignedly, "it's up to youse." - -John reflected. - -"It's all right," he said. "Of course, if the collector had been here, -the kid wouldn't be. All I've got to do is to wait." - -He peered over the banisters into the darkness below. - -"Not that it's not enough," he said; "for of all the poisonous places I -ever met this is the worst. I wish whoever built it had thought to put -in a few windows. His idea of ventilation was apparently to leave a -hole about the size of a lima bean and let the thing go at that." - -"I guess there's a door on to de roof somewhere," suggested Pugsy. "At -de joint where I lives dere is." - -His surmise proved correct. At the end of the passage a ladder, nailed -against the wall, ended in a large square opening, through which was -visible, if not "that narrow strip of blue which prisoners call the -sky," at any rate a tall brick chimney and a clothesline covered with -garments that waved lazily in the breeze. - -John stood beneath it, looking up. - -"Well," he said, "this isn't much, but it's better than nothing. I -suppose the architect of this place was one of those fellows who don't -begin to appreciate air till it's thick enough to scoop chunks out with -a spoon. It's an acquired taste, I guess, like Limburger cheese. And -now, Pugsy, old scout, you had better beat it. There may be a -rough-house here any minute now." - -Pugsy looked up, indignant. - -"Beat it?" - -"While your shoe-leather's good," said John firmly. "This is no place -for a minister's son. Take it from me." - -"I want to stop and pipe de fun," objected Master Maloney. - -"What fun?" - -"I guess you ain't here to play ball," surmised Pugsy shrewdly, eying -the big stick. - -"Never mind why I'm here," said John. "Beat it. I'll tell you all about -it to-morrow." - -Master Maloney prepared reluctantly to depart. As he did so there was a -sound of well-shod feet on the stairs, and a man in a snuff-colored -suit, wearing a brown Homburg hat and carrying a small notebook in one -hand, walked briskly up the stairs. His whole appearance proclaimed him -to be the long-expected collector of rents. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -CORNERED - - -He did not see John for a moment, and had reached the door of the room -when he became aware of a presence. He turned in surprise. He was a -smallish, pale-faced man with protruding eyes and teeth which gave him -a certain resemblance to a rabbit. - -"Hello!" he said. - -"Welcome to our city," said John, stepping unostentatiously between him -and the stairs. - -Master Maloney, who had taken advantage of the interruption to edge -back into the center of things, now appeared to consider the question -of his departure permanently shelved. He sidled to a corner of the -landing, and sat down on an empty soap box with the air of a dramatic -critic at the opening night of a new play. The scene looked good to -him. It promised interesting developments. He was an earnest student of -the drama, as exhibited in the theaters of the East Side, and few had -ever applauded the hero of "Escaped from Sing Sing," or hissed the -villain of "Nellie, the Beautiful Cloak-model" with more fervor. He -liked his drama to have plenty of action, and to his practised eye this -one promised well. There was a set expression on John's face which -suggested great things. - -His pleasure was abruptly quenched. John, placing a firm hand on his -collar, led him to the top of the stairs and pushed him down. - -"Beat it," he said. - -The rent-collector watched these things with a puzzled eye. He now -turned to John. - -"Say, seen anything of the wops that live here?" he enquired. "My -name's Gooch. I've come to take the rent." - -John nodded. - -"I don't think there's much chance of your seeing them to-night," he -said. "The father, I hear, is in prison. You won't get any rent out of -him." - -"Then it's outside for theirs," said Mr. Gooch definitely. - -"What about the kid?" said John. "Where's he to go?" - -"That's up to him. Nothing to do with me. I'm only acting under orders -from up top." - -"Whose orders?" enquired John. - -"The gent who owns this joint." - -"Who is he?" - -Suspicion crept into the protruding eyes of the rent-collector. - -"Say!" he demanded. "Who are you anyway, and what do you think you're -doing here? That's what I'd like to know. What do you want with the -name of the owner of this place? What business is it of yours?" - -"I'm a newspaper man." - -"I guessed you were," said Mr. Gooch with triumph. "You can't bluff me. -Well, it's no good, sonny. I've nothing for you. You'd better chase off -and try something else." - -He became more friendly. - -"Say, though," he said, "I just guessed you were from some paper. I wish -I could give you a story, but I can't. I guess it's this _Peaceful -Moments_ business that's been and put your editor on to this joint, -ain't it? Say, though, that's a queer thing, that paper. Why, only a few -weeks ago it used to be a sort of take-home-and-read-to-the-kids affair. -A friend of mine used to buy it regular. And then suddenly it comes out -with a regular whoop, and starts knocking these tenements and boosting -Kid Brady, and all that. It gets past me. All I know is that it's begun -to get this place talked about. Why, you see for yourself how it is. -Here is your editor sending you down to get a story about it. But, say, -those _Peaceful Moments_ guys are taking big risks. I tell you -straight they are, and I know. I happen to be wise to a thing or two -about what's going on on the other side, and I tell you there's going -to be something doing if they don't cut it out quick. Mr. Qem, the -fellow who owns this place isn't the man to sit still and smile. He's -going to get busy. Say, what paper do you come from?" - -"_Peaceful Moments_," said John. - -For a moment the inwardness of the information did not seem to come -home to Mr. Gooch. Then it hit him. He spun round. John was standing -squarely between him and the stairs. - -"Hey, what's all this?" demanded Mr. Gooch nervously. The light was dim -in the passage, but it was sufficiently light to enable him to see -John's face, and it did not reassure him. - -"I'll soon tell you," said John. "First, however, let's get this -business of the kid's rent settled. Take it out of this and give me the -receipt." - -He pulled out a bill. - -"Curse his rent," said Mr. Gooch. "Let me pass." - -"Soon," said John. "Business before pleasure. How much does the kid -have to pay for the privilege of suffocating in this infernal place? As -much as that? Well, give me a receipt, and then we can get on to more -important things." - -"Let me pass." - -"Receipt," said John laconically. - -Mr. Gooch looked at the big stick, then scribbled a few words in his -notebook and tore out the page. John thanked him. - -"I will see that it reaches him," he said. "And now will you kindly -tell me the name of the man for whom you collected that money?" - -"Let me pass," bellowed Mr. Gooch. "I'll bring an action against you -for assault and battery. Playing a fool game like this! Get away from -those stairs." - -"There has been no assault and battery--yet," said John. "Well, are you -going to tell me?" - -Mr. Gooch shuffled restlessly. John leaned against the banisters. - -"As you said a moment ago," he observed, "the staff of _Peaceful -Moments_ is taking big risks. I knew it before you told me. I have -had practical demonstration of the fact. And that is why this Broster -Street thing has got to be finished quick. We can't afford to wait. So -I am going to have you tell me this man's name right now." - -"Help!" yelled Mr. Gooch. - -The noise died away, echoing against the walls. No answering cry came -from below. Custom had staled the piquancy of such cries in Broster -Street. If anybody heard it, nobody thought the matter worth -investigation. - -"If you do that again," said John, "I'll break you in half. Now then! I -can't wait much longer. Get busy!" - -He looked huge and sinister to Mr. Gooch, standing there in the -uncertain light; it was very lonely on that top floor and the rest of -the world seemed infinitely far away. Mr. Gooch wavered. He was loyal -to his employer, but he was still more loyal to Mr. Gooch. - -"Well?" said John. - -There was a clatter on the stairs of one running swiftly, and Pugsy -Maloney burst into view. For the first time since John had known him, -Pugsy was openly excited. - -"Say, boss," he cried, "dey's coming!" - -"What? Who?" - -"Why, dem. I seen dem T'ree Pointers--Spider Reilly an'--" - -He broke off with a yelp of surprise. Mr. Gooch had seized his -opportunity, and had made his dash for safety. With a rush he dived -past John, nearly upsetting Pugsy, who stood in his path, and sprang -down the stairs. Once he tripped, but recovered himself, and in another -instant only the faint sound of his hurrying footsteps reached them. - -John had made a movement as if to follow, but the full meaning of -Pugsy's words came upon him and he stopped. - -"Spider Reilly?" he said. - -"I guess it was Spider Reilly," said Pugsy, excitedly. "Dey called him -Spider. I guess dey piped youse comin' in here. Gee! it's pretty -fierce, boss, dis! What youse goin' to do?" - -"Where did you see them, Pugsy?" - -"On the street just outside. Dere was a bunch of dem spielin' togedder, -and I hears dem say you was in here. Dere ain't no ways out but de -front, so dey ain't hurryin'. Dey just reckon to pike along upstairs, -peekin' inter each room till dey find you. An' dere's a bunch of dem -goin' to wait on de street in case youse beat it past down de stairs -while de odder guys is rubberin' for youse. Gee, ain't dis de limit!" - -John stood thinking. His mind was working rapidly. Suddenly he smiled. - -"It's all right, Pugsy," he said. "It looks bad, but I see a way out. -I'm going up that ladder there and through the trapdoor on to the roof. -I shall be all right there. If they find me, they can only get at me one -at a time. And, while I'm there, here's what I want you to do." - -"Shall I go for de cops, boss?" - -"No, not the cops. Do you know where Dude Dawson lives?" - -The light of intelligence began to shine in Master Maloney's face. His -eye glistened with approval. This was strategy of the right sort. - -"I can ask around," he said. "I'll soon find him all right." - -"Do, and as quick as you can. And when you've found him tell him that -his old chum, Spider Reilly, is here, with the rest of his crowd. And -now I'd better be getting up on to my perch. Off you go, Pugsy, my son, -and don't take a week about it. Good-by." - -Pugsy vanished, and John, going to the ladder, climbed out on to the -roof with his big stick. He looked about him. The examination was -satisfactory. The trapdoor appeared to be the only means of access to -the roof, and between this roof and that of the next building there was -a broad gulf. The position was practically impregnable. Only one thing -could undo him, and that was, if the enemy should mount to the next -roof and shoot from there. And even then he would have cover in the -shape of the chimney. It was a pity that the trap opened downward, for -he had no means of securing it and was obliged to allow it to hang -open. But, except for that, his position could hardly have been -stronger. - -As yet there was no sound of the enemy's approach. Evidently, as Pugsy -had said, they were conducting the search, room by room, in a thorough -and leisurely way. He listened with his ear close to the open trapdoor, -but could hear nothing. - -A startled exclamation directly behind him brought him to his feet in a -flash, every muscle tense. He whirled his stick above his head as he -turned, ready to strike, then let it fall with a clatter. For there, a -bare yard away, stood Betty. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -JOURNEY'S END - - -The capacity of the human brain for surprise, like that of the human -body for pain, is limited. For a single instant a sense of utter -unreality struck John like a physical blow. The world flickered before -his eyes and the air seemed full of strange noises. Then, quite -suddenly, these things passed, and he found himself looking at her with -a total absence of astonishment, mildly amused in some remote corner of -his brain at his own calm. It was absurd, he told himself, that he -should be feeling as if he had known of her presence there all the -time. Yet it was so. If this were a dream, he could not be taking the -miracle more as a matter of course. Joy at the sight of her he felt, -keen and almost painful, but no surprise. The shock had stunned his -sense of wonder. - -She was wearing a calico apron over her dress, an apron that had -evidently been designed for a large woman. Swathed in its folds, she -suggested a child playing at being grown up. Her sleeves were rolled -back to the elbow, and her slim arms dripped with water. Strands of -brown hair were blowing loose in the evening breeze. To John she had -never seemed so bewitchingly pretty. He stared at her till the pallor -of her face gave way to a warm red glow. - -As they stood there, speechless, there came from the other side of the -chimney, softly at first, then swelling, the sound of a child's voice, -raised in a tentative wail. Betty started violently. The next moment -she was gone, and from the unseen parts beyond the chimney came the -noise of splashing water. - -And at the same instant, through the trap, came a trampling of feet and -the sound of whispering. The enemy had reached the top floor. - -John was conscious of a remarkable exhilaration. He felt insanely -light-hearted. He laughed aloud at the thought that until then he had -completely forgotten the very existence of these earnest seekers after -his downfall. He threw back his head and shouted. There was something -so ridiculous in their assumption that they mattered to a man who had -found Betty again. - -He thrust his head down through the trap, to see what was going on. The -dark passage was full of indistinct forms, gathered together in puzzled -groups. The mystery of the vanished object of their pursuit was being -discussed in hoarse whispers. - -Suddenly there was an excited shout, then a rush of feet. John drew -back his head, and waited, gripping his stick. - -Voices called to each other in the passage below. - -"De roof!" - -"On top de roof!" - -"He's beaten it for de roof!" - -Feet shuffled on the stone floor. The voices ceased abruptly. And then, -like a jack-in-the-box, there popped through the trap a head and -shoulders. - -The new arrival was a young man with a shock of red hair, a broken -nose, and a mouth from which force or the passage of time had removed -three front teeth. He held on to the edge of the trap, and stared up at -John. - -John beamed down at him, and shifted his grip on the stick. - -"Who's here?" he cried. "Historic picture. 'Old Dr. Cook discovers the -North Pole.'" - -The red-headed young man blinked. The strong light of the open air was -trying to his eyes. - -"Youse had best come down," he observed coldly. "We've got youse." - -"And," continued John, unmoved, "is instantly handed a gum-drop by his -faithful Eskimo." - -As he spoke, he brought the stick down on the knuckles which disfigured -the edges of the trap. The intruder uttered a howl and dropped out of -sight. In the passage below there were whisperings and mutterings, -growing gradually louder till something resembling coherent -conversation came to John's ears, as he knelt by the trap making -meditative billiard shots with the stick at a small pebble. - -"Aw g'wan! Don't be a quitter." - -"Who's a quitter?" - -"Youse a quitter. Get on top de roof. He can't hoit youse." - -"De guy's gotten a big stick." - -John nodded appreciatively. - -"I and Theodore," he murmured. - -A somewhat baffled silence on the part of the attacking force was -followed by further conversation. - -"Gee! Some guy's got to go up." - -Murmur of assent from the audience. - -A voice, in inspired tones: "Let Sam do it." - -The suggestion made a hit. There was no doubt about that. It was a -success from the start. Quite a little chorus of voices expressed -sincere approval of the very happy solution to what had seemed an -insoluble problem. John, listening from above, failed to detect in the -choir of glad voices one that might belong to Sam himself. Probably -gratification had rendered the chosen one dumb. - -"Yes, let Sam do it," cried the unseen chorus. The first speaker, -unnecessarily, perhaps--for the motion had been carried almost -unanimously--but possibly with the idea of convincing the one member of -the party in whose bosom doubts might conceivably be harbored, went on -to adduce reasons. - -"Sam bein' a coon," he argued, "ain't goin' to git hoit by no stick. -Youse can't hoit a coon by soakin' him on de coco, can you, Sam?" - -John waited with some interest for the reply, but it did not come. -Possibly Sam did not wish to generalize on insufficient experience. - -"We can but try," said John softly, turning the stick round in his -fingers. - -A report like a cannon sounded in the passage below. It was merely a -revolver shot, but in the confined space it was deafening. The bullet -sang up into the sky. - -"Never hit me," said John cheerfully. - -The noise was succeeded by a shuffling of feet. John grasped his stick -more firmly. This was evidently the real attack. The revolver shot had -been a mere demonstration of artillery to cover the infantry's advance. - -Sure enough, the next moment a woolly head popped through the opening, -and a pair of rolling eyes gleamed up at him. - -"Why, Sam!" he said cordially, "this is great. Now for our interesting -experiment. My idea is that you _can_ hurt a coon's head with a -stick if you hit it hard enough. Keep quite still. Now. What, are you -coming up? Sam, I hate to do it, but--" - -A yell rang out. John's theory had been tested and proved correct. - -By this time the affair had begun to attract spectators. The noise of -the revolver had proved a fine advertisement. The roof of the house -next door began to fill up. Only a few of the occupants could get a -clear view of the proceedings, for the chimney intervened. There was -considerable speculation as to what was passing in the Three Points -camp. John was the popular favorite. The early comers had seen his -interview with Sam, and were relating it with gusto to their friends. -Their attitude toward John was that of a group of men watching a dog at -a rat hole. They looked to him to provide entertainment for them, but -they realized that the first move must be with the attackers. They were -fair-minded men, and they did not expect John to make any aggressive -move. - -Their indignation, when the proceedings began to grow slow, was -directed entirely at the dilatory Three Pointers. They hooted the Three -Pointers. They urged them to go home and tuck themselves up in bed. The -spectators were mostly Irishmen, and it offended them to see what -should have been a spirited fight so grossly bungled. - -"G'wan away home, ye quitters!" roared one. - -A second member of the audience alluded to them as "stiffs." - -It was evident that the besieging army was beginning to grow a little -unpopular. More action was needed if they were to retain the esteem of -Broster Street. - -Suddenly there came another and a longer explosion from below, and more -bullets wasted themselves on air. John sighed. - -"You make me tired," he said. - -The Irish neighbors expressed the same sentiment in different and more -forcible words. There was no doubt about it--as warriors, the Three -Pointers were failing to give satisfaction. - -A voice from the passage called to John. - -"Say!" - -"Well?" said John. - -"Are youse comin' down off out of dat roof?" - -"Would you mind repeating that remark?" - -"Are youse goin' to quit off out of dat roof?" - -"Go away and learn some grammar," said John severely. - -"Hey!" - -"Well?" - -"Are youse--?" - -"No, my son," said John, "since you ask it, I am not. I like being up -here. How is Sam?" - -There was silence below. The time began to pass slowly. The Irishmen on -the other roof, now definitely abandoning hope of further -entertainment, proceeded with hoots of derision to climb down one by -one into the recesses of their own house. - -And then from the street far below there came a fusillade of shots and -a babel of shouts and counter-shouts. The roof of the house next door -filled again with a magical swiftness, and the low wall facing the -street became black with the backs of those craning over. There -appeared to be great doings in the street. - -John smiled comfortably. - -In the army of the corridor confusion had arisen. A scout, clattering -upstairs, had brought the news of the Table Hillites' advent, and there -was doubt as to the proper course to pursue. Certain voices urged going -down to help the main body. Others pointed out that this would mean -abandoning the siege of the roof. The scout who had brought the news -was eloquent in favor of the first course. - -"Gee!" he cried, "don't I keep tellin' youse dat de Table Hills is -here? Sure, dere's a whole bunch of dem, and unless youse come on down -dey'll bite de hull head off of us lot. Leave dat stiff on de roof. Let -Sam wait here wit' his canister, and den he can't get down, 'cos Sam'll -pump him full of lead while he's beatin' it t'roo de trapdoor. Sure!" - -John nodded reflectively. - -"There is certainly something in that," he murmured. "I guess the grand -rescue scene in the third act has sprung a leak. This will want -thinking over." - -In the street the disturbance had now become terrible. Both sides were -hard at it, and the Irishmen on the roof, rewarded at last for their -long vigil, were yelling encouragement promiscuously and whooping with -the unfettered ecstasy of men who are getting the treat of their lives -without having paid a penny for it. - -The behavior of the New York policeman in affairs of this kind is based -on principles of the soundest practical wisdom. The unthinking man -would rush in and attempt to crush the combat in its earliest and -fiercest stages. The New York policeman, knowing the importance of his -safety, and the insignificance of the gangsman's, permits the opposing -forces to hammer each other into a certain distaste for battle, and -then, when both sides have begun to have enough of it, rushes in -himself and clubs everything in sight. It is an admirable process in -its results, but it is sure rather than swift. - -Proceedings in the affair below had not yet reached the -police-interference stage. The noise, what with the shots and yells -from the street and the ear-piercing approval of the roof audience, was -just working up to a climax. - -John rose. He was tired of kneeling by the trap, and there was no -likelihood of Sam making another attempt to climb through. He got up -and stretched himself. - -And then he saw that Betty was standing beside him, holding with each -hand a small and--by Broster Street standards--uncannily clean child. -The children were scared and whimpering, and she stooped to soothe -them. Then she turned to John, her eyes wide with anxiety. - -"Are you hurt?" she cried. "What has been happening? Are you hurt?" - -John's heart leaped at the anxious break in her voice. - -"It's all right," he said soothingly. "It's absolutely all right. -Everything's over." - -As if to give him the lie, the noise in the street swelled to a -crescendo of yells and shots. - -"What's that?" cried Betty, starting. - -"I fancy," said John, "the police must be taking a hand. It's all -right. There's a little trouble down below there between two of the -gangs. It won't last long now." - -"Who were those men?" - -"My friends in the passage?" he said lightly. "Those were some of the -Three Points gang. We were holding the concluding exercise of a rather -lively campaign that's been--" - -Betty leaned weakly against the chimney. There was silence now in the -street. Only the distant rumble of an elevated train broke the -stillness. She drew her hands from the children's grasp, and covered -her face. As she lowered them again, John saw that the blood had left -her cheeks. She was white and shaking. He moved forward impulsively. - -"Betty!" - -She tottered, reaching blindly for the chimney for support, and without -further words he gathered her into his arms as if she had been the -child she looked, and held her there, clutching her to him fiercely, -kissing the brown hair that brushed against his face, and soothing her -with vague murmurings. - -Her breath came in broken gasps. She laughed hysterically. - -"I thought they were killing you--killing you--and I couldn't leave my -babies--they were so frightened, poor little mites--I thought they were -killing you." - -"Betty!" - -Her arms about his neck tightened their grip convulsively, forcing his -head down until his face rested against hers. And so they stood, -rigid, while the two children stared with round eyes and whimpered -unheeded. - -Her grip relaxed. Her hands dropped slowly to her side. She leaned back -against the circle of his arms, and looked up at him--a strange look, -full of a sweet humility. - -"I thought I was strong," she said quietly. "I'm weak--but I don't -care." - -He looked at her with glowing eyes, not understanding, but content that -the journey was ended, that she was there, in his arms, speaking to -him. - -"I always loved you, dear," she went on. "You knew that, didn't you? -But I thought I was strong enough to give you up for--for a -principle--but I was wrong. I can't do without you--I knew it just now -when I saw--" She stopped, and shuddered. "I can't do without you," she -repented. - -She felt the muscles of his arms quiver, and pressed more closely -against them. They were strong arms, protecting arms, restful to lean -against at the journey's end. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -A LEMON - - -That bulwark of _Peaceful Moments_, Pugsy Maloney, was rather the -man of action than the man of tact. Otherwise, when, a moment later, he -thrust his head up through the trap, he would have withdrawn -delicately, and not split the silence with a raucous "Hey!" which acted -on John and Betty like an electric shock. - -John glowered at him. Betty was pink, but composed. Pugsy climbed -leisurely on to the roof, and surveyed the group. - -"Why, hello!" he said, as he saw Betty more closely. - -"Well, Pugsy," said Betty. "How are you?" - -John turned in surprise. - -"Do you know Pugsy?" - -Betty looked at him, puzzled. - -"Why, of course I do." - -"Sure," said Pugsy. "Miss Brown was stenographer on de poiper till she -beat it." - -"Miss Brown!" - -There was utter bewilderment in John's face. - -"I changed my name when I went to _Peaceful Moments_." - -"Then are you--did you--?" - -"Yes, I wrote those articles. That's how I happen to be here now. I -come down every day and help look after the babies. Poor little souls, -there seems to be nobody else here who has time to do it. It's -dreadful. Some of them--you wouldn't believe--I don't think they could -ever have had a real bath in their lives." - -"Baths is foolishness," commented Master Maloney austerely, eying the -scoured infants with a touch of disfavor. - -John was reminded of a second mystery that needed solution. - -"How on earth did you get up here, Pugsy?" he asked. "How did you get -past Sam?" - -"Sam? I didn't see no Sam. Who's Sam?" - -"One of those fellows. A coon. They left him on guard with a gun, so -that I shouldn't get down." - -"Ah, I met a coon beating it down de stairs. I guess dat was him. I -guess he got cold feet." - -"Then there's nothing to stop us from getting down." - -"Nope. Dat's right. Dere ain't a T'ree Pointer wit'in a mile. De cops -have been loadin' dem into de patrol-wagon by de dozen." - -John turned to Betty. - -"We'll go and have dinner somewhere. You haven't begun to explain -things yet." - -Betty shook her head with a smile. - -"I haven't got time to go out to dinners," she said. "I'm a -working-girl. I'm cashier at Fontelli's Italian Restaurant. I shall be -on duty in another half-hour." - -John was aghast. - -"You!" - -"It's a very good situation," said Betty demurely. "Six dollars a week -and what I steal. I haven't stolen anything yet, and I think Mr. Jarvis -is a little disappointed in me. But of course I haven't settled down -properly." - -"Jarvis? Bat Jarvis?" - -"Yes. He has been very good to me. He got me this place, and has looked -after me all the time." - -"I'll buy him a thousand cats," said John fervently. "But, Betty, you -mustn't go there any more. You must quit. You--" - -"If _Peaceful Moments_ would reengage me?" said Betty. - -She spoke lightly, but her face was serious. - -"Dear," she said quickly, "I can't be away from you now, while there's -danger. I couldn't bear it. Will you let me come?" - -He hesitated. - -"You will. You must." Her manner changed again. "That's settled, then. -Pugsy, I'm coming back to the paper. Are you glad?" - -"Sure t'ing," said Pugsy. "You're to de good." - -"And now," she went on, "I must give these babies back to their -mothers, and then I'll come with you." - -She lowered herself through the trap, and John handed the children down -to her. Pugsy looked on, smoking a thoughtful cigarette. - -John drew a deep breath. Pugsy, removing the cigarette from his mouth, -delivered himself of a stately word of praise. - -"She's a boid," he said. - -"Pugsy," said John, feeling in his pocket, and producing a roll of -bills, "a dollar a word is our rate for contributions like that." - - * * * * * - -John pushed back his chair slightly, stretched out his legs, and -lighted a cigarette, watching Betty fondly through the smoke. The -resources of the Knickerbocker Hotel had proved equal to supplying the -staff of _Peaceful Moments_ with an excellent dinner, and John had -stoutly declined to give or listen to any explanations until the coffee -arrived. - -"Thousands of promising careers," he said, "have been ruined by the -fatal practise of talking seriously at dinner. But now we might begin." - -Betty looked at him across the table with shining eyes. It was good to -be together again. - -"My explanations won't take long," she said. "I ran away from you. And, -when you found me, I ran away again." - -"But I didn't find you," objected John. "That was my trouble." - -"But my aunt told you I was at _Peaceful Moments_!" - -"On the contrary, I didn't even know you had an aunt." - -"Well, she's not exactly that. She's my stepfather's aunt--Mrs. Oakley. -I was certain you had gone straight to her, and that she had told you -where I was." - -"The Mrs. Oakley? The--er--philanthropist?" - -"Don't laugh at her," said Betty quickly. "She was so good to me!" - -"She passes," said John decidedly. - -"And now," said Betty, "it's your turn." - -John lighted another cigarette. - -"My story," he said, "is rather longer. When they threw me out of -Mervo--" - -"What!" - -"I'm afraid you don't keep abreast of European history," he said. -"Haven't you heard of the great revolution in Mervo and the overthrow -of the dynasty? Bloodless, but invigorating. The populace rose against -me as one man--except good old General Poineau. He was for me, and -Crump was neutral, but apart from them my subjects were unanimous. -There's a republic again in Mervo now." - -"But why? What had you done?" - -"Well, I abolished the gaming-tables. But, more probably," he went on -quickly, "they saw what a perfect dub I was in every--" - -She interrupted him. - -"Do you mean to say that, just because of me--?" - -"Well," he said awkwardly, "as a matter of fact what you said did make -me think over my position, and, of course, directly I thought over -it--oh, well, anyway, I closed down gambling in Mervo, and then--" - -"John!" - -He was aware of a small hand creeping round the table under cover of -the cloth. He pressed it swiftly, and, looking round, caught the eye of -a hovering waiter, who swooped like a respectful hawk. - -"Did you want anything, sir?" - -"I've got it, thanks," said John. - -The waiter moved away. - -"Well, directly they had fired me, I came over here. I don't know what -I expected to do. I suppose I thought I might find you by chance. I -pretty soon saw how hopeless it was, and it struck me that, if I didn't -get some work to do mighty quick, I shouldn't be much good to anyone -except the alienists." - -"Dear!" - -The waiter stared, but John's eyes stopped him in mid-swoop. - -"Then I found Smith--" - -"Where is Mr. Smith?" - -"In prison," said John with a chuckle. - -"In prison!" - -"He resisted and assaulted the police. I'll tell you about it later. -Well, Smith told me of the alterations in _Peaceful Moments_, and -I saw that it was just the thing for me. And it has occupied my mind -quite some. To think of you being the writer of those Broster Street -articles! You certainly have started something, Betty! Goodness knows -where it will end. I hoped to have brought off a coup this afternoon, -but the arrival of Sam and his friends just spoiled it." - -"This afternoon? Yes, why were you there? What were you doing?" - -"I was interviewing the collector of rents and trying to dig his -employer's name out of him. It was Smith's idea. Smith's theory was -that the owner of the tenements must have some special private reason -for lying low, and that he would employ some special fellow, whom he -could trust, as a rent-collector. And I'm pretty certain he was right. -I cornered the collector, a little, rabbit-faced man named Gooch, and I -believe he was on the point of--What's the matter?" - -Betty's forehead was wrinkled. Her eyes wore a far-away expression. - -"I'm trying to remember something. I seem to know the name, Gooch. And -I seem to associate it with a little, rabbit-faced man. And--quick, -tell me some more about him. He's just hovering about on the edge of my -memory. Quick! Push him in!" - -John threw his mind back to the interview in the dark passage, trying -to reconstruct it. - -"He's small," he said slowly. "His eyes protrude--so do his -teeth--He--he--yes, I remember now--he has a curious red mark--" - -"On his right cheek," said Betty triumphantly. - -"By Jove!" cried John. "You've got him?" - -"I remember him perfectly. He was--" She stopped with a little gasp. - -"Yes?" - -"John, he was one of my stepfather's secretaries," she said. - -They looked at each other in silence. - -"It can't be," said John at length. - -"It can. It is. He must be. He has scores of interests everywhere. He -prides himself on it. It's the most natural thing." - -John shook his head doubtfully. - -"But why all the fuss? Your stepfather isn't the man to mind public -opinion--" - -"But don't you see? It's as Mr. Smith said. The private reason. It's as -clear as daylight. Naturally he would do anything rather than be found -out. Don't you see? Because of Mrs. Oakley." - -"Because of Mrs. Oakley?" - -"You don't know her as I do. She is a curious mixture. She's -double-natured. You called her the philanthropist just now. Well, she -would be one, if--if she could bear to part with money. Yes, I know it -sounds ridiculous. But it's so. She is mean about money, but she -honestly hates to hear of anybody treating poor people badly. If my -stepfather were really the owner of those tenements, and she should -find it out, she would have nothing more to do with him. It's true. I -know her." - -The smile passed away from John's face. - -"By George!" he said. "It certainly begins to hang together." - -"I know I'm right." - -"I think you are." - -He sat meditating for a moment. - -"Well?" he said at last. - -"What do you mean?" - -"I mean, what are we to do? Do we go on with this?" - -"Go on with it? I don't understand." - -"I mean--well, it has become rather a family matter, you see. Do you -feel as--warlike against Mr. Scobell as you did against an unknown -lessee?" - -Betty's eyes sparkled. - -"I don't think I should feel any different if--if it was you," she -said. "I've been spending days and days in those houses, John dear, and -I've seen such utter squalor and misery, where there needn't be any at -all if only the owner would do his duty, and--and--" - -She stopped. Her eyes were misty. - -"Thumbs down, in fact," said John, nodding. "I'm with you." - -As he spoke, two men came down the broad staircase into the grill-room. -Betty's back was towards them, but John saw them, and stared. - -"What are you looking at?" asked Betty. - -"Will you count ten before looking round?" - -"What is it?" - -"Your stepfather has just come in." - -"What!" - -"He's sitting at the other side of the room, directly behind you. Count -ten!" - -But Betty had twisted round in her chair. - -"Where? Where?" - -"Just where you're looking. Don't let him see you." - -"I don't-- Oh!" - -"Got him?" - -He leaned back in his chair. - -"The plot thickens, eh?" he said. "What is Mr. Scobell doing in New -York, I wonder, if he has not come to keep an eye on his interests?" - -Betty had whipped round again. Her face was white with excitement. - -"It's true," she whispered. "I was right. Do you see who that is with -him? The man?" - -"Do you know him? He's a stranger to me." - -"It's Mr. Parker," said Betty. - -John drew in his breath sharply. - -"Are you sure?" - -"Positive." - -John laughed quietly. He thought for a moment, then beckoned to the -hovering waiter. - -"What are you going to do?" asked Betty. - -"Bring me a small lemon," said John. - -"Lemon squash, sir?" - -"Not a lemon squash. A plain lemon. The fruit of that name. The common -or garden citron, which is sharp to the taste and not pleasant to have -handed to one. Also a piece of note paper, a little tissue paper, and -an envelope. - -"What are you going to do?" asked Betty again. - -John beamed. - -"Did you ever read the Sherlock Holmes story entitled 'The Five Orange -Pips'? Well, when a man in that story received a mysterious envelope -containing five orange pips, it was a sign that he was due to get his. -It was all over, as far as he was concerned, except 'phoning for the -undertaker. I propose to treat Mr. Scobell better than that. He shall -have a whole lemon." - -The waiter returned. John wrapped up the lemon carefully, wrote on the -note paper the words, "To B. Scobell, Esq., Property Owner, Broster -Street, from Prince John of _Peaceful Moments_, this gift," and -enclosed it in the envelope. - -"Do you see that gentleman at the table by the pillar?" he said. "Give -him these. Just say a gentleman sent them." - -The waiter smiled doubtfully. John added a two-dollar bill to the -collection in his hand. - -"You needn't give him that," he said. - -The waiter smiled again, but this time not doubtfully. - -"And now," said John as the messenger ambled off, "perhaps it would be -just as well if we retired." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -THE FINAL ATTEMPT - - -Proof that his shot had not missed its mark was supplied to John -immediately upon his arrival at the office on the following morning, -when he was met by Pugsy Maloney with the information that a gentleman -had called to see him. - -"With or without a black-jack?" enquired John. "Did he give any name?" - -"Sure. Parker's his name. He blew in oncst before when Mr. Smith was -here. I loosed him into de odder room." - -John walked through. The man he had seen with Mr. Scobell at the -Knickerbocker was standing at the window. - -"Mr. Parker?" - -The other turned, as the door opened, and looked at him keenly. - -"Are you Mr. Maude?" - -"I am," said John. - -"I guess you don't need to be told what I've come about?" - -"No." - -"See here," said Mr. Parker. "I don't know how you've found things out, -but you've done it, and we're through. We quit." - -"I'm glad of that," said John. "Would you mind informing Spider Reilly -of that fact? It will make life pleasanter for all of us." - -"Mr. Scobell sent me along here to ask you to come and talk over this -thing with him. He's at the Knickerbocker. I've a cab waiting outside. -Can you come along?" - -"I'd rather he came here." - -"And I bet he'd rather come here than be where he is. That little -surprise packet of yours last night put him down and out. Gave him a -stroke of some sort. He's in bed now, with half-a-dozen doctors working -on him." - -John thought for a moment. - -"Oh," he said slowly, "if it's that--very well." - -He could not help feeling a touch of remorse. He had no reason to be -fond of Mr. Scobell, but he was sorry that this should have happened. - -They went out on the street. A taximeter cab was standing by the -sidewalk. They got in. Neither spoke. John was thoughtful and -preoccupied. Mr. Parker, too, appeared to be absorbed in his own -thoughts. He sat with folded arms and lowered head. - -The cab buzzed up Fifth Avenue. Suddenly something, half-seen through -the window, brought John to himself with a jerk. It was the great white -mass of the Plaza Hotel. The next moment he saw that they were abreast -of the park, and for the first time an icy wave of suspicion swept over -him. - -"Here, what's this?" he cried. "Where are you taking me?" - -Mr. Parker's right hand came swiftly out of ambush, and something -gleamed in the sun. - -"Don't move," said Mr. Parker. The hard nozzle of a pistol pressed -against John's chest. "Keep that hand still." - -John dropped his hand. Mr. Parker leaned back, with the pistol resting -easily on his knee. The cab began to move more quickly. - -John's mind was in a whirl. His chief emotion was not fear, but disgust -that he should have allowed himself to be trapped, with such absurd -ease. He blushed for himself. Mr. Parker's face was expressionless, but -who could say what tumults of silent laughter were not going on inside -him? John bit his lip. - -"Well?" he said at last. - -Mr. Parker did not reply. - -"Well?" said John again. "What's the next move?" - -It flashed across his mind that, unless driven to it by an attack, his -captor would do nothing for the moment without running grave risks -himself. To shoot now would be to attract attention. The cab would be -overtaken at once by bicycle police, and stopped. There would be no -escape. No, nothing could happen till they reached open country. At -least he would have time to think this matter over in all its bearings. - -Mr. Parker ignored the question. He was sitting in the same attitude of -watchfulness, the revolver resting on his knee. He seemed mistrustful -of John's right hand, which was hanging limply at his side. It was from -this quarter that he appeared to expect attack. The cab was bowling -easily up the broad street, past rows and rows of high houses each -looking exactly the same as the last. Occasionally, to the right, -through a break in the line of buildings, a glimpse of the river could -be seen. - -A faint hope occurred to John that, by talking, he might put the other -off his guard for just that instant which was all he asked. He exerted -himself to find material for conversation. - -"Tell me," he said, "what you said about Mr. Scobell, was that true? -About his being ill in bed?" - -Mr. Parker did not answer, but a wintry smile flittered across his -face. - -"It was not?" said John. "Well, I'm glad of that. I don't wish Mr. -Scobell any harm." - -Mr. Parker looked at him doubtfully. - -"Say, why are you in this game at all?" he said. "What made you butt -in?" - -"One must do something," said John. "It's interesting work." - -"If you'll quit--" - -John shook his head. - -"I own it's a tempting proposition, things being as they are, but I -won't give up yet. You never know what may happen." - -"Well, you can make a mighty near guess this trip." - -"You can't do a thing yet, that's sure," said John confidently. "If you -shot me now, the cab would be stopped, and you would be lynched by the -populace. I seem to see them tearing you limb from limb. 'She loves -me!' Off comes an arm. 'She loves me not!' A leg joins the little heap -on the ground. That is what would happen, Mr. Parker." - -The other shrugged his shoulders, and relapsed into silence once more. - -"What are you going to do with me, Mr. Parker?" asked John. - -Mr. Parker did not reply. - - * * * * * - -The cab moved swiftly on. Now they had reached the open country. An -occasional wooden shack was passed, but that was all. At any moment, -John felt, the climax of the drama might be reached, and he got ready. -His muscles stiffened for a spring. There was little chance of its -being effective, but at least it would be good to put up some kind of a -fight. And he had a faint hope that the suddenness of his movement -might upset the other's aim. He was bound to be hit somewhere. That was -certain. But quickness might save him to some extent. He braced his leg -against the back of the cab. And, as he did so, its smooth speed -changed to a series of jarring jumps, each more emphatic than the last. -It slowed down, then came to a halt. There was a thud, as the chauffeur -jumped down. John heard him fumbling in the tool box. Presently the -body of the machine was raised slightly as he got to work with the -jack. John's muscles relaxed. He leaned back. Surely something could be -made of this new development. But the hand that held the revolver never -wavered. He paused, irresolute. And at the moment somebody spoke in the -road outside. - -"Had a breakdown?" enquired the voice. - -John recognized it. It was the voice of Kid Brady. - - * * * * * - -The Kid, as he had stated that he intended to do, had begun his -training for his match with Eddie Wood at White Plains. It was his -practise to open a course of training with a little gentle road-work, -and it was while jogging along the highway a couple of miles from his -training camp, in company with the two thick-necked gentlemen who acted -as his sparring partners, that he had come upon the broken-down -taxicab. - -If this had happened after his training had begun in real earnest, he -would have averted his eyes from the spectacle, however alluring, and -continued on his way without a pause. But now, as he had not yet -settled down to genuine hard work, he felt justified in turning aside -and looking into the matter. The fact that the chauffeur, who seemed to -be a taciturn man, lacking the conversational graces, manifestly -objected to an audience, deterred him not at all. One cannot have -everything in this world, and the Kid and his attendant thick-necks -were content to watch the process of mending the tire, without -demanding the additional joy of sparkling small talk from the man in -charge of the operations. - -"Guy's had a breakdown, sure," said the first of the thick-necks. - -"Surest thing you know," agreed his colleague. - -"Seems to me the tire's punctured," said the Kid. - -All three concentrated their gaze on the machine. - -"Kid's right," said thick-neck number one. "Guy's been an' bust a -tire." - -"Surest thing you know," said thick-neck number two. - -They observed the perspiring chauffeur in silence for a while. - -"Wonder how he did that, now?" speculated the Kid. - -"Ran over a nail, I guess," said thick-neck number one. - -"Surest thing you know," said the other, who, while perhaps somewhat -deficient in the matter of original thought, was a most useful fellow -to have by one--a sort of Boswell. - -"Did you run over a nail?" the Kid enquired of the chauffeur. - -The chauffeur worked on, unheeding. - -"This is his busy day," said the first thick-neck, with satire. "Guy's -too full of work to talk to us." - -"Deaf, shouldn't wonder," surmised the Kid. "Say, wonder what's he -doing with a taxi so far out of the city." - -"Some guy tells him to drive him out here, I guess. Say, it'll cost him -something, too. He'll have to strip off a few from his roll to pay for -this." - -John glanced at Mr. Parker, quivering with excitement. It was his last -chance. Would the Kid think to look inside the cab, or would he move -on? Could he risk a shout? - -Mr. Parker leaned forward, and thrust the muzzle of the pistol against -his body. The possibilities of the situation had evidently not been -lost upon him. - -"Keep quiet," he whispered. - -Outside, the conversation had begun again, and the Kid had made his -decision. - -"Pretty rich guy inside," he said, following up his companion's train -of thought. "I'm going to rubber through the window." - -John met Mr. Parker's eye, and smiled. - -There came the sound of the Kid's feet grating on the road, as he -turned, and, as he heard it, Mr. Parker for the first time lost his -head. With a vague idea of screening John, he half-rose. The pistol -wavered. It was the chance John had prayed for. His left hand shot out, -grasped the other's wrist, and gave it a sharp wrench. The pistol went -off with a deafening report, the bullet passing through the back of the -cab, then fell to the floor, as the fingers lost their hold. And the -next moment John's right fist, darting upward, crashed home. - -The effect was instantaneous. John had risen from his seat as he -delivered the blow, and it got the full benefit of his weight. Mr. -Parker literally crumpled up. His head jerked, then fell limply forward. -John pushed him on to the seat as he slid toward the floor. - -The interested face of the Kid appeared at the window. Behind him could -be seen portions of the faces of the two thick-necks. - -"Hello, Kid," said John. "I heard your voice. I hoped you might look in -for a chat." - -The Kid stared, amazed. - -"What's doin'?" he queried. - -"A good deal. I'll explain later. First, will you kindly knock that -chauffeur down and sit on his head?" - -"De guy's beat it," volunteered the first thick-neck. - -"Surest thing you know," said the other. - -"What's been doin'?" asked the Kid. "What are you going to do with this -guy?" - -John inspected the prostrate Mr. Parker, who had begun to stir -slightly. - -"I guess we'll leave him here," he said. "I've had all of his company -that I need for to-day. Show me the nearest station, Kid. I must be -getting back to New York. I'll tell you all about it as we go. A walk -will do me good. Riding in a taxi is pleasant, but, believe me, you can -have too much of it." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -A REPRESENTATIVE GATHERING - - -When John returned to the office, he found that his absence had been -causing Betty an anxious hour's waiting. She had been informed by Pugsy -that he had gone out in the company of Mr. Parker, and she felt uneasy. -She turned white at his story of the ride, but he minimized the -dangers. - -"I don't think he ever meant to shoot. I think he was going to shut me -up somewhere out there, and keep me till I promised to be good." - -"Do you think my stepfather told him to do it?" - -"I doubt it. I fancy Parker is a man who acts a good deal on his own -inspirations. But we'll ask him, when he calls to-day." - -"Is he going to call?" - -"I have an idea he will," said John. "I sent him a note just now, -asking if he could manage a visit." - -It was unfortunate, in the light of subsequent events, that Mr. Jarvis -should have seen fit to bring with him to the office that afternoon two -of his collection of cats, and that Long Otto, who, as before, -accompanied him, should have been fired by his example to the extent of -introducing a large yellow dog For before the afternoon was ended, -space in the office was destined to be at premium. - -Mr. Jarvis, when he had recovered from the surprise of seeing Betty and -learning that she had returned to her old situation, explained: - -"T'ought I'd bring de kits along," he said. "Dey starts fuss'n' wit' -each odder yesterday, so I brings dem along." - -John inspected the menagerie without resentment. - -"Sure!" he said. "They add a kind of peaceful touch to the scene." - -The atmosphere was, indeed, one of peace. The dog, after an inquisitive -journey round the room, lay down and went to sleep. The cats settled -themselves comfortably, one on each of Mr. Jarvis' knees. Long Otto, -surveying the ceiling with his customary glassy stare, smoked a long -cigar. And Bat, scratching one of the cats under the ear, began to -entertain John with some reminiscences of fits and kittens. - -But the peace did not last. Ten minutes had barely elapsed when the -dog, sitting up with a start, uttered a whine. The door burst open and -a little man dashed in. He was brown in the face, and had evidently -been living recently in the open air. Behind him was a crowd of -uncertain numbers. They were all strangers to John. - -"Yes?" he said. - -The little man glared speechlessly at the occupants of the room. The -two Bowery boys rose awkwardly. The cats fell to the floor. - -The rest of the party had entered. Betty recognized the Reverend Edwin -T. Philpotts and Mr. B. Henderson Asher. - -"My name is Renshaw," said the little man, having found speech. - -"What can I do for you?" asked John. - -The question appeared to astound the other. - -"What can you--! Of all--!" - -"Mr. Renshaw is the editor of _Peaceful Moments_," she said. "Mr. -Smith was only acting for him." - -Mr. Renshaw caught the name. - -"Yes. Mr. Smith. I want to see Mr. Smith. Where is he?" - -"In prison," said John. - -"In prison!" - -John nodded. - -"A good many things have happened since you left for your vacation. -Smith assaulted a policeman, and is now on Blackwell's Island." - -Mr. Renshaw gasped. Mr. B. Henderson Asher stared, and stumbled over -the cat. - -"And who are you?" asked the editor. - -"My name is Maude. I--" - -He broke off, to turn his attention to Mr. Jarvis and Mr. Asher, -between whom unpleasantness seemed to have arisen. Mr. Jarvis, holding -a cat in his arms, was scowling at Mr. Asher, who had backed away and -appeared apprehensive. - -"What is the trouble?" asked John. - -"Dis guy here wit' two left feet," said Bat querulously, "treads on de -kit." - -Mr. Renshaw, eying Bat and the silent Otto with disgust, intervened. - -"Who are these persons?" he enquired. - -"Poison yourself," rejoined Bat, justly incensed. "Who's de little -squirt, Mr. Maude?" - -John waved his hands. - -"Gentlemen, gentlemen," he said, "why descend to mere personalities? I -ought to have introduced you. This is Mr. Renshaw, our editor. These, -Mr. Renshaw, are Bat Jarvis and Long Otto, our acting fighting editors, -vice Kid Brady, absent on unavoidable business." - -The name stung Mr. Renshaw to indignation, as Smith's had done. - -"Brady!" he shrilled. "I insist that you give me a full explanation. I -go away by my doctor's orders for a vacation, leaving Mr. Smith to -conduct the paper on certain clearly defined lines. By mere chance, -while on my vacation, I saw a copy of the paper. It had been ruined." - -"Ruined?" said John. "On the contrary. The circulation has been going -up every week." - -"Who is this person, Brady? With Mr. Philpotts I have been going -carefully over the numbers which have been issued since my departure--" - -"An intellectual treat," murmured John. - -"--and in each there is a picture of this young man in a costume which -I will not particularize--" - -"There is hardly enough of it to particularize." - -"--together with a page of disgusting autobiographical matter." - -John held up his hand. - -"I protest," he said. "We court criticism, but this is mere abuse. I -appeal to these gentlemen to say whether this, for instance, is not -bright and interesting." - -He picked up the current number of _Peaceful Moments_, and turned -to the Kid's page. - -"This," he said, "describes a certain ten-round unpleasantness with one -Mexican Joe. 'Joe comes up for the second round and he gives me a nasty -look, but I thinks of my mother and swats him one in the lower ribs. He -gives me another nasty look. "All right, Kid," he says; "now I'll knock -you up into the gallery." And with that he cuts loose with a right -swing, but I falls into the clinch, and then--'" - -"Pah!" exclaimed Mr. Renshaw. - -"Go on, boss," urged Mr. Jarvis approvingly. "It's to de good, dat -stuff." - -"There!" said John triumphantly. "You heard? Mr. Jarvis, one of the -most firmly established critics east of Fifth Avenue stamps Kid Brady's -reminiscences with the hall-mark of his approval." - -"I falls fer de Kid every time," assented Mr. Jarvis. - -"Sure! You know a good thing when you see one. Why," he went on warmly, -"there is stuff in these reminiscences which would stir the blood of a -jellyfish. Let me quote you another passage, to show that they are not -only enthralling, but helpful as well. Let me see, where is it? Ah, I -have it. 'A bully good way of putting a guy out of business is this. -You don't want to use it in the ring, because rightly speaking it's a -foul, but you will find it mighty useful if any thick-neck comes up to -you in the street and tries to start anything. It's this way. While -he's setting himself for a punch, just place the tips of the fingers of -your left hand on the right side of the chest. Then bring down the heel -of your left hand. There isn't a guy living that could stand up against -that. The fingers give you a leverage to beat the band. The guy doubles -up, and you upper-cut him with your right, and out he goes.' Now, I bet -you never knew that before, Mr. Philpotts. Try it on your -parishioners." - -_"Peaceful Moments_," said Mr. Renshaw irately, "is no medium for -exploiting low prize-fighters." - -"Low prize-fighters! No, no! The Kid is as decent a little chap as -you'd meet anywhere. And right up in the championship class, too! He's -matched against Eddie Wood at this very moment. And Mr. Waterman will -support me in my statement that a victory over Eddie Wood means that he -gets a cast-iron claim to meet Jimmy Garvin for the championship." - -"It is abominable," burst forth Mr. Renshaw. "It is disgraceful. The -paper is ruined." - -"You keep saying that. It really isn't so. The returns are excellent. -Prosperity beams on us like a sun. The proprietor is more than -satisfied." - -"Indeed!" said Mr. Renshaw sardonically. - -"Sure," said John. - -Mr. Renshaw laughed an acid laugh. - -"You may not know it," he said, "but Mr. Scobell is in New York at this -very moment. We arrived together yesterday on the _Mauretania_. I -was spending my vacation in England when I happened to see the copy of -the paper. I instantly communicated with Mr. Scobell, who was at Mervo, -an island in the Mediterranean--" - -"I seem to know the name--" - -"--and received in reply a long cable desiring me to return to New York -immediately. I sailed on the _Mauretania_, and found that he was -one of the passengers. He was extremely agitated, let me tell you. So -that your impudent assertion that the proprietor is pleased--" - -John raised his eyebrows. - -"I don't quite understand," he said. "From what you say, one would -almost imagine that you thought Mr. Scobell was the proprietor of this -paper." - -Mr. Renshaw stared. Everyone stared, except Mr. Jarvis, who, since the -readings from the Kid's reminiscences had ceased, had lost interest in -the proceedings, and was now entertaining the cats with a ball of paper -tied to a string. - -"Thought that Mr. Scobell--?" repeated Mr. Renshaw. "Who is, if he is -not?" - -"I am," said John. - -There was a moment's absolute silence. - -"You!" cried Mr. Renshaw. - -"You!" exclaimed Mr. Waterman, Mr. Asher, and the Reverend Edwin T. -Philpotts. - -"Sure thing," said John. - -Mr. Renshaw groped for a chair, and sat down. - -"Am I going mad?" he demanded feebly. "Do I understand you to say that -you own this paper?" - -"I do." - -"Since when?" - -"Roughly speaking, about three days." - -Among his audience (still excepting Mr. Jarvis, who was tickling one of -the cats and whistling a plaintive melody) there was a tendency toward -awkward silence. To start assailing a seeming nonentity and then to -discover he is the proprietor of the paper to which you wish to -contribute is like kicking an apparently empty hat and finding your -rich uncle inside it. Mr. Renshaw in particular was disturbed. -Editorships of the kind to which he aspired are not easy to get. If he -were to be removed from _Peaceful Moments_ he would find it hard -to place himself anywhere else. Editors, like manuscripts, are rejected -from want of space. - -"I had a little money to invest," continued John. "And it seemed to me -that I couldn't do better than put it into _Peaceful Moments_. If -it did nothing else, it would give me a free hand in pursuing a policy -in which I was interested. Smith told me that Mr. Scobell's -representatives had instructions to accept any offer, so I made an -offer, and they jumped at it." - -Pugsy Maloney entered, bearing a card. - -"Ask him to wait just one moment," said John, reading it. - -He turned to Mr. Renshaw. - -"Mr. Renshaw," he said, "if you took hold of the paper again, helped by -these other gentlemen, do you think you could gather in our old -subscribers and generally make the thing a live proposition on the old -lines? Because, if so, I should be glad if you would start in with the -next number. I am through with the present policy. At least, I hope to -be in a few minutes. Do you think you can undertake that?" - -Mr. Renshaw, with a sigh of relief, intimated that he could. - -"Good," said John. "And now I'm afraid I must ask you to go. A rather -private and delicate interview is in the offing. Bat, I'm very much -obliged to you and Otto for your help. I don't know what we should have -done without it." - -"Aw, Chee!" said Mr. Jarvis. - -"Then good-by for the present." - -"Good-by, boss. Good-by, loidy." - -Long Otto pulled his forelock, and, accompanied by the cats and the -dog, they left the room. - -When Mr. Renshaw and the others had followed them, John rang the bell -for Pugsy. - -"Ask Mr. Scobell to step in," he said. - -The man of many enterprises entered. His appearance had deteriorated -since John had last met him. He had the air of one who has been caught -in the machinery. His face was even sallower than of yore, and there -was no gleam in his dull green eyes. - -He started at the sight of Betty, but he was evidently too absorbed in -the business in hand to be surprised at seeing her. He sank into a -chair, and stared gloomily at John. - -"Well?" he said. - -"Well?" said John. - -"This," observed Mr. Scobell simply, "is hell." He drew a cigar stump -mechanically from his vest pocket and lighted it. - -"What are you going to do about it?" he asked. - -"What are you?" said John. "It's up to you." - -Mr. Scobell gazed heavily into vacancy. - -"Ever since I started in to monkey with that darned Mervo," he said -sadly, "there ain't a thing gone right. I haven't been able to turn -around without bumping into myself. Everything I touch turns to mud. I -guess I can still breathe, but I'm not betting on that lasting long. Of -all the darned hoodoos that island was the worst. Say, I gotta close -down that Casino. What do you know about that! Sure thing. The old lady -won't stand for it. I had a letter from her." He turned to Betty. "You -got her all worked up, Betty. I'm not blaming you. It's just my jinx. -She took it into her head I'd been treating you mean, and she kicked at -the Casino. I gotta close it down or nix on the heir thing. That was -enough for me. I'm going to turn it into a hotel." - -He relighted his cigar. - -"And now, just as I got her smoothed down, along comes this darned -tenement business. Say, Prince, for the love of Mike cut it out. If -those houses are as bad as you say they are, and the old lady finds out -that I own them, it'll be Katie bar the door for me. She wouldn't stand -for it for a moment. I guess I didn't treat you good, Prince, but let's -forget it. Ease up on this rough stuff. I'll do anything you want." - -Betty spoke. - -"We only want you to make the houses fit to live in," she said. "I -don't believe you know what they're like." - -"Why, no. I left Parker in charge. It was up to him to do what was -wanted. Say, Prince, I want to talk to you about that guy, Parker. I -understand he's been rather rough with you and your crowd. That wasn't -my doing. I didn't know anything about it till he told me. It's the -darned Wild West strain in him coming out. He used to do those sort of -things out there, and he's forgotten his manners. I pay him well, and I -guess he thinks that's the way it's up to him to earn it. You mustn't -mind Parker." - -"Oh, well! So long as he means well--!" said John. "I've no grudge -against Parker. I've settled with him." - -"Well, then, what about this Broster Street thing? You want me to fix -some improvements, is that it?" - -"That's it." - -"Why, say, I'll do that. Sure. And then you'll quit handing out the -newspaper stories? That goes. I'll start right in." - -He rose. - -"That's taken a heap off my mind," he said. - -"There's just one other thing," said John. "Have you by any chance such -a thing as a stepfather's blessing on you?" - -"Eh?" - -John took Betty's hand. - -"We've come round to your views, Mr. Scobell," he said. "That scheme of -yours for our future looks good to us." - -Mr. Scobell bit through his cigar in his emotion. - -"Now, why the Heck," he moaned, "couldn't you have had the sense to do -that before, and save all this trouble?" - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -CONCLUSION - - -Smith drew thoughtfully at his cigar, and shifted himself more -comfortably into his chair. It was long since he had visited the West, -and he had found all the old magic in the still, scented darkness of -the prairie night. He gave a little sigh of content. When John, a year -before, had announced his intention of buying this ranch, and, as it -seemed to Smith, burying himself alive a thousand miles from anywhere, -he had disapproved. He had pointed out that John was not doing what -Fate expected of him. A miracle, in the shape of a six-figure wedding -present from Mrs. Oakley, who had never been known before, in the -memory of man, to give away a millionth of that sum, had happened to -him. Fate, argued Smith, plainly intended him to stay in New York and -spend his money in a civilized way. - -John had had only one reply, but it was clinching. - -"Betty likes the idea," he said, and Smith ceased to argue. - -Now, as he sat smoking on the porch on the first night of his inaugural -visit to the ranch, a conviction was creeping over him that John had -chosen wisely. - -A door opened behind him. Betty came out on to the porch, and dropped -into a chair close to where John's cigar glowed redly in the darkness. -They sat there without speaking. The stirring of unseen cattle in the -corral made a soothing accompaniment to thought. - -"It is very pleasant for an old jail bird like myself," said Smith at -last, "to sit here at my ease. I wish all our absent friends could be -with us to-night. Or perhaps not quite all. Let us say, Comrade Parker -here, Comrades Brady and Maloney over there by you, and our old friend -Renshaw sharing the floor with B. Henderson Asher, Bat Jarvis, and the -cats. By the way, I was round at Broster Street before I left New York. -There is certainly an improvement. Millionaires now stop there instead -of going on to the Plaza. Are you asleep, John?" - -"No." - -"Excellent. I also saw Comrade Brady before I left. He has definitely -got on his match with Jimmy Garvin." - -"Good. He'll win." - -"The papers seem to think so. _Peaceful Moments_, however, I am -sorry to say, is silent on the subject. It was not like this in the -good old days. How is the paper going now, John? Are the receipts -satisfactory?" - -"Pretty fair. Renshaw is rather a marvel in his way. He seems to have -roped in nearly all the old subscribers. They eat out of his hand." - -Smith stretched himself. - -"These," he said, "are the moments in life to which we look back with -that wistful pleasure. This peaceful scene, John, will remain with me -when I have forgotten that such a man as Spider Reilly ever existed. -These are the real Peaceful Moments." - -He closed his eyes. The cigar dropped from his fingers. There was a -long silence. - -"Mr. Smith," said Betty. - -There was no answer. - -"He's asleep," said John. "He had a long journey to-day." - -Betty drew her chair closer. From somewhere out in the darkness, from -the direction of the men's quarters, came the soft tinkle of a guitar -and a voice droning a Mexican love-song. - -Her hand stole out and found his. They began to talk in whispers. - - - - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prince and Betty, by P. G. 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