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diff --git a/old/tprbt10.txt b/old/tprbt10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6cef875..0000000 --- a/old/tprbt10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9386 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Prince and Betty, by P. G. Wodehouse -#18 in our series by P. G. Wodehouse - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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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