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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Young Wallingford, by George Randolph
+Chester, Illustrated by F. R. Gruger and Henry Raleigh
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Young Wallingford
+
+
+Author: George Randolph Chester
+
+
+
+Release Date: June 19, 2010  [eBook #32897]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG WALLINGFORD***
+
+
+E-text prepared by D Alexander and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
+generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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+      See 32897-h.htm or 32897-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32897/32897-h/32897-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32897/32897-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
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+
+
+
+
+
+YOUNG WALLINGFORD
+
+by
+
+GEORGE RANDOLPH CHESTER
+
+Author of
+The Early Bird
+The Making of Bobby Burnit
+
+With Illustrations by F. R. Gruger & Henry Raleigh
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Indianapolis
+The Bobbs-Merrill Company
+Publishers
+
+Copyright 1910
+The Bobbs-Merrill Company
+
+Press of
+Braunworth & Co.
+Bookbinders and Printers
+Brooklyn, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Fannie]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER                                          PAGE
+
+     I WIX BEGINS TO THINK                          1
+
+    II EASY MONEY                                  12
+
+   III YOUNG WIX TAKES A HAND                      25
+
+    IV THE EASIEST WAY                             38
+
+     V WIX DISAPPEARS FOREVER                      52
+
+    VI A SAD DISAPPOINTMENT                        61
+
+   VII A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET                       72
+
+  VIII THE DOUBLE CROSS                            86
+
+    IX SPOILING THE EGYPTIANS                     101
+
+     X EATING CAKE AND HAVING IT                  111
+
+    XI A BRIEF CHARACTER BIT                      126
+
+   XII WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT                  144
+
+  XIII BEAUTY IN THE SPOT-LIGHT                   158
+
+   XIV AN OLD SCORE EVENED UP                     172
+
+    XV TAKING HIS MONEY                           183
+
+   XVI ENJOYING THEMSELVES                        201
+
+  XVII J. RUFUS SEEKS INVESTMENT                  219
+
+ XVIII SPECULATION IN REAL ESTATE                 231
+
+   XIX A GREAT ART CENTER                         251
+
+    XX ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD                         264
+
+   XXI THE GREAT VITTOREO MATTEO                  279
+
+  XXII THE SURPRISE OF HIS LIFE                   288
+
+ XXIII STILL ANOTHER SURPRISE                     298
+
+  XXIV A STRAIGHT BUSINESS                        306
+
+   XXV THE SCIATACATA COMPANY                     318
+
+  XXVI A DELUSION AND A SNARE                     331
+
+ XXVII LAUGH AT THAT WOOZY FEELING                341
+
+
+
+
+YOUNG
+WALLINGFORD
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHEREIN JONATHAN REUBEN WIX BEGINS TO THINK
+
+
+"A natural again!" exulted Jonathan Reuben Wix, as the dice bounded
+from his plump hand and came to rest upon the billiard-table in
+Leiniger's Select Café, with a five and a deuce showing. "Somebody
+ring the bell for me, because I'm a-going to get off."
+
+He was a large young man in every dimension, broad of chest and big
+and pink of face and jovial of eye, and he chuckled as he passed the
+dice to his left-hand neighbor. There was a hundred dollars on the
+table and he gathered it up in a wad.
+
+"Good-by, boys, and many merry thanks for these kind contributions,"
+he bantered as he stuffed the money into his pocket. "It's me for
+Bunkville-amidst-the-ferry-boats, on the next Limited."
+
+He was back in less than three days, having spent just twenty-four
+hours in New York. The impulsively decided journey was nothing unusual
+for him, but it had an intimate bearing upon his future in that it
+forced upon him the confidence of secretive Clifford Gilman, who lived
+next door.
+
+"Home so soon?" inquired Gilman in surprise. "They must have robbed
+you!"
+
+"Robbed!" laughed Wix. "I should say not. I didn't waste a cent.
+Railroad ticket, sleepers, meals and extra fare on the Limited cost
+twenty-five each way. That left fifty. My room at the hotel cost five
+dollars. Breakfast was two dollars; morning drive through Central
+Park, four; lunch, three-fifty; matinée ticket, with cab each way,
+five; dinner, eight, with the ordinary champagne of commerce; theater
+and cab hire, five-fifty; supper, twelve, including a bottle of real
+champagne at eight dollars, and the balance in tips."
+
+Clifford gasped as he hungrily reviewed these luscious items.
+
+Young Gilman was not one of those who had been in the game by which
+Wix had won a hundred. He never played dice, did young Gilman, nor
+poker, nor bet on a horse race, nor drank, nor even smoked; but
+wore curly, silken sideburns, and walked up the same side of Main
+Street every morning to the bank, with his lunch in a little
+imitation-leather box. He walked back down the same side of Main
+Street every evening. If he had happened to take the other side on any
+morning, before noon there would have been half a dozen conservative
+depositors to ask old Smalley, who owned the bank, why Clifford had
+crossed over.
+
+Young Gilman was popularly regarded as a "sissy," but that he had
+organs, dimensions and senses, and would bleed if pricked, was
+presently evidenced to Mr. Wix in a startling proposition.
+
+"Look here, Wix," said Gilman, lowering his voice to a mystery-fraught
+undertone, "I'm going to take a little trip and I want you to come
+along."
+
+"Behave!" admonished Wix. "It would be awful reckless in me to go with
+a regular little devil like you; and besides, sarsaparilla and peanuts
+tear up my system so."
+
+"I've got three hundred dollars," stated Gilman calmly. "Does that
+sound like sarsaparilla and peanuts?"
+
+"I'm listening," said Wix with sudden interest. "Where did you get it,
+mister?"
+
+Gilman looked around them nervously, then spoke in an eager whisper,
+clutching Wix by the arm.
+
+"Saved it up, but like you do. I saw the wisdom of your way long ago.
+Old Smalley makes me put half my salary in the bank, but I pinch out a
+little more than that, and every time I get twenty dollars on the
+side, I invest it in margin wheat, by mail. Most often I lose, but
+when I do win I keep on until it amounts to something. Of course, I'm
+laying myself open to you in this. If old Smalley found it out he'd
+discharge me on the spot."
+
+Wix chuckled.
+
+"I know," he agreed. "My mother once wanted me to apply for that job.
+I went to see old Smalley, and the first thing he did was to examine
+my fingers for cigarette stains. 'You won't find any,' I told him,
+'for I use a holder,' and I showed him the holder. Of course, that
+settled my case with Smalley; but do you know that he smokes
+after-dinner cigarettes away from home, and has beer and whisky and
+three kinds of wine in his cellar? I've got his number, all right, but
+I didn't have little Clifford's. Where do you hide it?"
+
+"In the bank and here at home," returned Gilman with a snarl; "and
+I've been at it so long I'm beginning to curdle. You've worked in
+every mercantile establishment, factory and professional office in
+town, and never cared to hold a job. Yet everybody likes you. You
+drink, smoke, gamble and raise the dickens generally. You don't save a
+cent and yet you always manage to have money. You dress swell and
+don't amount to a tinker's cuss, yet you're happy all day long. Come
+along to the Putnam County Fair and show me how."
+
+"The Putnam County Fair!" repeated Wix. "Two hundred miles to get a
+drink?"
+
+"I can't take one any closer, can I?" demanded Gilman savagely. "But
+the real reason is that Uncle Thomas lives there. I can go to visit
+Uncle Thomas when I wouldn't be allowed to 'go on the cars alone'
+anywhere else. But uncle is a good fellow and his wife don't write to
+my mother. He tells me to go ahead; and I don't need go near him
+unless I'm in trouble."
+
+"Some time I'll borrow your Uncle Tom," laughed Wix. "He sounds good
+to me."
+
+Mrs. Gilman came to the door. She was a thin, nervous, little woman,
+with a long chin and a narrow forehead.
+
+"Come in, Cliffy," she urged in a shrill, wheedling voice. "You must
+have a good, long night's rest for your trip in the morning." In
+reality she was worried to have her Clifford talking with the
+graceless Wix--though secretly she admired Jonathan Reuben.
+
+"I must go in now," said Gilman hastily. "Go down to the train in the
+morning and get in on the other side, so mother won't see you. And
+don't tell your mother where you've gone."
+
+"She won't ask," responded Wix, laughing. "Nothing ever worries mother
+except our name. I don't like it myself, but I don't worry over it. It
+isn't my fault, and it was hers."
+
+If Wix felt any trace of bitterness over his mother's indifference he
+never confessed it, even to himself. Mrs. Wix, left a sufficient
+income by the late unloved, lived entirely by routine, with a
+separate, complacent function for every afternoon of the week. She was
+very comfortable, and plump, and placid, was Mrs. Wix, and Jonathan
+Reuben was merely an excrescence upon her scheme of life. Jonathan
+Reuben, however, had no lack of feminine sympathy. Quite a little
+clique of dashing young matrons, with old or dryly preoccupied
+husbands, vied with the girls to make him happy.
+
+In the present instance, young Wix was quite right about his mother's
+indifference. He called to her as he went down to early breakfast that
+he might not be back for a few days, and she sleepily answered. "All
+right." So Clifford and his instructor went to the fair, and the more
+experienced spendthrift showed the amateur how to get rid of his
+money, to their mutual gratification.
+
+Back of the Streets of Cairo, on the closing day, Wix and Gilman,
+hunting a drink, found a neat young man with piercing black eyes and
+black hair, who upon the previous days had been making a surreptitious
+hand-book on the races. Just now he was advising an interested group
+of men that money would not grow in their pockets.
+
+"If your eye is quicker than my hand you get my dollars," he
+singsonged as he deftly shifted three English walnut shells about on a
+flimsy folding stand. "If my hand is quicker than your eye, I get your
+dollars. Here they go, three in a row. They're all set, and here's a
+double sawbuck for some gentleman with a like amount of wealth and a
+keen eye and a little courage. Where, oh, where, is the little pea?"
+
+The location of the little pea was so obvious that it seemed a shame
+to take the black-eyed young man's money, for just as he had stopped
+moving the shells, Wix and Gilman, pressing up, saw that the edge of
+the left-hand shell had rested upon the rubber "pea" and had
+immediately closed over it. Notwithstanding this slip on the part of
+the operator, there seemed some reluctance on the part of the audience
+to invest; instead, with what might have seemed almost suspicious
+eagerness, they turned toward the new-comers. Gilman, flushed of face
+and muddy of eye, and hiccoughing slightly--though Wix, who had drunk
+with him drink for drink, was clean and normal and his usual jovial,
+clear-eyed self--hastily pressed in before any one else should take
+advantage of the golden chance.
+
+"Don't, Gilman," cautioned Wix, and grabbed him by the arm, but
+Clifford, still eager, jerked his arm away; and it was strange how all
+those who had been packed around the board made room for him.
+
+"Here's the boy with the nerve and the money," commented the
+black-eyed one as he took Mr. Gilman's twenty and flaunted it in the
+air with his own. "Now lift up the little shell. If the little pea is
+under it you get the twin twenties. Lovely twins!" He laughed and
+kissed them lightly. "It's only a question," he shouted loudly, as
+Gilman prepared to make his choice, "of whether your eye is quicker
+than my hand."
+
+Confidently Mr. Gilman picked up the left-hand shell, and a
+ludicrously bewildered look came over his face as he saw that the
+pellet was not under it. There was a laugh from the crowd. They had
+been waiting for another victim. Gilman looked hastily down at the
+trampled mass of straw and grass and muddy, black earth.
+
+"The elusive little pea is not on the ground," explained the brisk
+young man. "The elusive little pea is right here on the board in plain
+sight."
+
+To prove it he lifted up the center shell and displayed the pellet!
+There was another laugh. Not one person in that crowd had seen the
+dexterous movement of his little finger, so quick and certain that it
+was scarcely more than a quiver; but, to make sure that his "quickness
+of hand" had not been detected, he scanned every face about him
+swiftly and piercingly. In this inspection his eye happened to light
+on that of Jonathan Reuben Wix, and met a wink so knowing, and withal
+so bubbling with gleeful appreciation, that he was himself forced to
+grin.
+
+"How you've wasted your young life," commented Wix as he led away his
+still dazed companion. "I thought everybody knew that trick by this
+time, but I guess postmasters and bank clerks are always exempt."
+
+"But how did he do it?" protested Gilman. "I saw that little ball
+under the left-hand shell as plain as day."
+
+"That's what he meant you to see," returned Wix with a grin. "He let
+that one stop under the edge as if he were awkward, then he flipped it
+into the crook of his little finger. When he lifted the middle shell
+he shoved the ball under it. At the time you picked yours up there
+wasn't a ball under any of the three shells. There never is."
+
+"I guess it's too late for me to get an education," sighed the other
+plaintively. "Smalley won't give me a chance. I don't even dare buy a
+new suit of clothes too often. I'd never see a bit of life if it
+wasn't for this wheat speculation."
+
+Wix turned to him slowly.
+
+"You want to let that game alone," he cautioned.
+
+"Oh, I'm cautious enough," returned Gilman.
+
+"You're almost in full charge at the bank now, aren't you?" observed
+Wix carelessly. "Smalley's over at his new bank in Milton a good
+deal."
+
+"About half the time," admitted Gilman uneasily.
+
+"He keeps a big cash reserve, doesn't he? Done up in bales, I suppose,
+and never looks at it except to count the mere bundles."
+
+"Of course." Gilman was extremely nonchalant about it.
+
+The other let him change the subject, but he found himself studying
+Clifford speculatively every now and then. This day was another
+deciding step in the future of Wix.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ THE BLACK-EYED YOUNG MAN DISCOURSES OF EASY
+ MONEY
+
+
+It was to Jonathan Reuben that the waiters in the dining-car paid
+profound attention, although Gilman had the money. There was something
+about young Wix's breadth of chest and pinkness of countenance and
+clearness of smiling eye which marked him as one with whom good food
+agreed, whom good liquor cheered, and whom good service thawed to the
+point of gratitude and gratuities: whereas Clifford Gilman, take him
+any place, was only background, and not much of that.
+
+"Say, General Jackson," observed Wix pleasantly to the waiter, "put a
+quart of bubbles in the freezer while we study over this form sheet.
+Then bring us a dry Martini, _not_ out of a bottle."
+
+"I reckon you're going to have about what you want, boss," said the
+negro with a grin, and darted away.
+
+He talked with the steward, who first frowned, then smiled, as he
+looked back and saw the particular guest. A moment later he was
+mixing, and Clifford Gilman gazed upon his friend with most worshipful
+eyes. Here, indeed, was a comrade of whom to be proud, and by whom to
+pattern!
+
+They had swallowed their oysters and had finished their soup, with a
+quart of champagne in a frosty silver bucket beside them and the
+entrée on the way, when the "captain" was compelled to seat a third
+passenger at their table. It was the black-eyed young man of the
+walnut shells.
+
+At first, as with his quick sweep he recognized in Mr. Gilman one of
+his victims, he hesitated, but a glance at the jovial Mr. Wix
+reassured him.
+
+"We're just going to open a bottle of joy," invited Wix. "Shall I send
+for another glass?"
+
+"Surest thing, you know," replied the other. "I'm some partial to
+headache water."
+
+"This is on the victim," observed Wix with a laugh, as the cork was
+pulled. "You see he has coin left, even after attending your little
+party."
+
+"Pity I didn't know he was so well padded," grinned the black-eyed
+one, whereat all three laughed, Gilman more loudly than any of them.
+Gilman ceased laughing, however, to struggle with his increasing
+tendency toward cross-eyes.
+
+Wix turned to him with something of contempt.
+
+"He don't mind the loss of twenty or so," he dryly observed. "He's in
+a business where he sees nothing but money all day long. He's a highly
+trusted bank clerk."
+
+Instead of glancing with interest at Mr. Gilman, the black-eyed young
+man sharply scrutinized Mr. Wix. Then he smiled.
+
+"And what line are you in?" he finally asked of Wix.
+
+"I've been in everything," confessed that joyous young gentleman with
+a chuckle, "and stayed in nothing. Just now, I'm studying law."
+
+"Doing nothing on the side?"
+
+"Not a thing."
+
+"He can't save any money to go into anything else," laughed Gilman,
+momentarily awakened into a surprising semblance of life. "Every time
+he gets fifty dollars he goes out of town to buy a fancy meal."
+
+"You were born for easy money," the black-eyed one advised Wix. "It's
+that sort of a lip that drives us all into the shearing business."
+
+Wix shook his head.
+
+"Not me," said he. "The law books prove that easy money costs too
+much."
+
+The black-eyed one shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"In certain lines it does," he admitted. "I'm going to get out of my
+line right away, for that very reason. Besides," he added with a sigh,
+"these educated town constables are putting the business on the
+bump-the-bumps. They've got so they want from half to two-thirds, and
+put a bookkeeper on the job."
+
+Mr. Gilman presently created a diversion by emitting a faint whoop,
+and immediately afterward went to sleep in the bread-platter. Wix sent
+for the porter of their sleeping-car, and between the two they put Mr.
+Gilman to bed. Before Wix returned to the shell expert he carefully
+extracted the money from his friend Clifford's pocket.
+
+"He won't need it, anyhow," he lightly explained, "and we will. I'll
+tell him about it in the morning."
+
+"I guess you can do that and make him like it all right," agreed the
+other. "He's a born sucker. He can get to the fat money, can't he?"
+
+Wix shook his head.
+
+"No," he declared; "parents poor, and I don't think he has enough
+ginger in him ever to make a pile of his own."
+
+The other was thoughtful and smiling for a time.
+
+"He'll get hold of it some way or other, mark what I tell you, and you
+might just as well have it as anybody. Somebody's going to cop it. I
+think you said you lived in Filmore? Suppose I drop through there with
+a quick-turn proposition that would need two or three thousand, and
+would show that much profit in a couple of months? If you help me pull
+it through I'll give you a slice out of it."
+
+Wix was deeply thoughtful, but he made no reply.
+
+"You don't live this way all the time, and you'd like to," urged the
+other. "There's no reason you shouldn't. Why, man, the bulk of this
+country is composed of suckers that are able to lay hands on from one
+to ten thousand apiece. They'll spend ten years to get it and can be
+separated from it in ten minutes. You're one of the born separators.
+You were cut out for nothing but easy money."
+
+Easy money! The phrase sank into the very soul of Jonathan Reuben Wix.
+Every professional, commercial and manufacturing man who knew him had
+predicted for him a brilliant future; but they had given him false
+credit for his father's patience to plod for years. Heredity had only
+given him, upon his father's side, selfishness and ingenuity; upon his
+mother's side, selfishness and a passion for luxurious comfort, and
+now, at twenty-six, he was still a young man without any prospect
+whatsoever.
+
+Easy money! He was still dreaming of it; looking lazily for chance to
+throw it his way, and reading law, commercial law principally, in a
+desultory fashion, though absorbing more than he knew, when one day,
+about six months afterward, the black-haired young man landed in
+Filmore. He was growing a sparse, jet-black mustache now, and wore a
+solemn, black frock-coat which fitted his slender frame like a glove.
+He walked first into the Filmore Bank, and by his mere appearance
+there nearly scared Clifford Gilman into fits.
+
+"I guess you don't remember me," said the stranger with a smile. "My
+name is Horace G. Daw, and I had the pleasure of doing a little
+business with you at the Putnam County Fair."
+
+"Yes, I--I--remember," admitted Gilman, thankful that there were no
+depositors in, and looking apprehensively out of the door. "What can I
+do for you?"
+
+"I have a little business opportunity that I think would about suit
+you," said Mr. Daw, reaching toward his inside coat pocket.
+
+"Not here; not here!" Gilman nervously interrupted him. "Somebody
+might come in at any minute, even Mr. Smalley himself. He's started
+for the train, but he might come back."
+
+"When, then, can I see you?" demanded Daw, seeing that Gilman was
+afraid of him. He had intended to meet the young man upon terms of
+jovial cordiality, but this was better.
+
+"Any time you say, out of hours," said Gilman.
+
+"Then suppose you come down to the Grand Hotel at from seven-thirty to
+eight o'clock."
+
+"All right," gulped Gilman. "I'll be there."
+
+Under the circumstances Mr. Daw changed his plans immediately. He had
+meant to hunt up Mr. Wix also, but now he most emphatically did not
+wish to do so, and kept very closely to his hotel. Mr. Gilman, on the
+contrary, did wish to find Mr. Wix, and hunted frantically for him;
+but Wix, that day, obeying a sudden craving for squab, had gone fifty
+miles to dine!
+
+Alone, then, Gilman went in fear and trembling to the Grand Hotel, and
+was very glad indeed to be sheltered from sight in Mr. Daw's room.
+
+What would Mr. Gilman have to drink? Nothing, thank you. No, no wine.
+A highball? No, not a highball. Some beer? Not any beer, thank you.
+Nevertheless, Mr. Daw ordered a pitcher of draft beer with two
+glasses, and Mr. Gilman found himself sipping eagerly at it almost
+before he knew it: for after an enforced abstinence of months, that
+beer tasted like honey. Also, it was warming to the heart and
+exhilarating to the brain, and it enabled him to listen better to the
+wonderful opportunity Mr. Daw had to offer him.
+
+It seemed that Mr. Daw had obtained exclusive inside information about
+the Red Mud Gold Mine. Three genuine miners--presumably top-booted,
+broad-hatted and red neck-kerchiefed--had incorporated that company,
+and, keeping sixty per cent. of the stock for themselves, had placed
+forty per cent. of it in the East for sale. As paying ore had not been
+found in it, after weary months of prospecting, one of the three
+partners brought his twenty per cent. of the stock East, and Mr. Daw
+had bought it for a song. A song, mind you, a mere nothing. Mr. Daw,
+moreover, knew where the other forty per cent. had been sold, and it,
+too, could be bought for a song. But now here came the point. After
+the departure of the disgruntled third partner the others had found
+gold! The two fortunate miners were, however, carefully concealing
+their good luck, because they were making most strenuous endeavors to
+raise enough money to buy in the outstanding stock before the holders
+realized its value.
+
+Mr. Gilman, pouring another amber glassful for himself, nodded his
+head in vast appreciation. Smart men, those miners.
+
+Mr. Daw had been fortunate enough to glean these facts from a returned
+miner whom he had befriended in early years, and fortunate enough,
+too, to secure samples of the ore, all of which had happened within
+the past week. Here was one of the samples. _Look at those flecks!_
+Those were gold, virgin _gold_!
+
+Mr. Gilman feasted his eyes on those flecks, their precious color
+richly enhanced when seen through four glasses of golden beer. That
+was actually gold, in the raw state. He strove to comprehend it.
+
+Here was the certified report of the assay, on the letter-head of the
+chemist who had examined the ore. It ran _a hundred and sixty-three
+dollars to the ton_! Marvelous; perfectly marvelous! Mr. Daw himself,
+even as he showed the assay, admired it over and over. As for Mr.
+Gilman, words could not explain how he was impressed. A genuine assay!
+
+Now, here is what Mr. Daw had done. Immediately upon receiving the
+report upon this assay he had scraped together all the money he could,
+and had bought up an additional ten per cent. of the stock of that
+company, which left him holding thirty per cent. Also, he had secured
+an option upon the thirty per cent. still outstanding. That additional
+thirty per cent. could be secured, if it were purchased at once, for
+three thousand dollars. Now, if Mr. Gilman could invest that much
+money, or knew any one who could, by pooling their stock Mr. Gilman
+and Mr. Daw would have sixty per cent. of the total incorporated stock
+of the company, and would thus hold control. Mr. Gilman certainly knew
+what that meant.
+
+Mr. Gilman did, for Mr. Smalley's Filmore Bank had been started as a
+stock company, with Mr. Smalley holding control, and by means of that
+control Mr. Smalley had been able to vote himself sufficient salary to
+be able to buy up the balance of the stock, so that now it was all
+his; but Mr. Gilman could not see where it was possible for him to
+secure three thousand dollars for an investment of this nature.
+
+An investment? Mr. Daw objected. This was not an investment at all. It
+was merely the laying down of three thousand dollars and immediately
+picking it up again fourfold. Why, having secured this stock,
+all they had to do was to let the secret of the finding of the
+hundred-and-sixty-three-dollar-a-ton gold be known, and, having
+control to offer, they could immediately sell it, anywhere, for four
+times what they had paid for it. The entire transaction need not take
+a week: it need not take four days.
+
+Now, here is what Mr. Daw would do--that is, after he had ordered
+another pitcher of beer. He had the thirty per cent. of stock with
+him. He spread it out before Mr. Gilman. It was most beautifully
+printed stock, on the finest of bond paper, with gold-leaf letters, a
+crimson border and green embellishments, and was carefully numbered in
+metallic blue. It was also duly transferred in the name of Horace G.
+Daw. Mr. Daw would do this: In order that Mr. Gilman might be
+protected from the start, Mr. Daw would, upon taking Mr. Gilman's
+three thousand, make over to Mr. Gilman this very stock. He would then
+take Mr. Gilman's three thousand and purchase the other thirty per
+cent. of stock in his, Mr. Daw's, own name, and would, in the
+meantime, sign a binding agreement with Mr. Gilman that their stock
+should be pooled--that neither should sell without the consent of the
+other. It was a glorious opportunity! Mr. Daw was sorry he could not
+swing it all himself, but, being unable to do so, it immediately
+occurred to him that Mr. Gilman was the very man to benefit by the
+opportunity.
+
+Mr. Gilman looked upon that glittering sample of ore, that
+unimpeachable certified assay, those beautifully printed stock
+certificates of the Red Mud Gold Mining Company, and he saw yellow.
+Nothing but gold, rich, red mud gold, was in all his safe, sane and
+conservative vision. Here, indeed, was no risk, for here were proofs
+enough and to spare. Besides, the entire transaction was so plausible
+and natural.
+
+"By George, I'll do it!" said Mr. Gilman, having already, in those few
+brief moments, planned what he would do with nine thousand dollars of
+profits. Mr. Daw was very loath to let Mr. Gilman go home after this
+announcement. He tried to get him to stay all night, so that they
+could go right down to the bank together in the morning and fix up the
+matter; for it must be understood that a glittering opportunity like
+this must be closed immediately. Mr. Gilman, as a business man of
+experience, could appreciate that. But there were weighty reasons why
+Mr. Gilman could not do this, no matter how much he might desire it,
+or see its advisability. Very well, then, Mr. Daw would simply draw up
+that little agreement to pool their stock, so that the matter could be
+considered definitely settled, and Mr. Daw would then wire, yet that
+night, to the holders of the remaining stock that he would take it.
+
+With much gravity and even pomp the agreement was drawn up and signed;
+then Mr. Gilman, taking the sage advice of Mr. Daw, drank seltzer and
+ammonia and ate lemon peel, whereupon he went home, keeping squarely
+in the center of the sidewalk to prove to himself that he could walk a
+straight line without wavering. Young Mr. Daw, meanwhile, clinging to
+that signed agreement as a mariner to his raft, sat upon the edge of
+his bed to rejoice and to admire himself; for this was Mr. Daw's first
+adventure into the higher and finer degrees of "wise work," and he was
+quite naturally elated over his own neatness and despatch.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+ YOUNG WIX TAKES A HAND IN THE BLACK-EYED
+ ONE'S GAME
+
+
+The glowing end of a cigar upon the porch of the adjoining house told
+Gilman that young Wix was at home, and, full of his important
+enterprise, he stopped in front of the Wix gate to gloat.
+
+"Hello, Gilman," said Wix, sauntering down. "Out pretty late for a
+mere infant of twenty-four?"
+
+"Little matter of business," protested Mr. Gilman pompously, glancing
+apprehensively at the second-story window, where a shade was already
+drawn aside.
+
+"Business!" repeated Wix. "They put midnight business in jail at
+daylight."
+
+"Hush!" warned Gilman, with another glance at the window. "This is
+different. This is one of those lucky strokes that I have read about
+but never hoped would come my way," and enthusiastically, in an
+undertone which Wix had to strain to hear, he recited all the details
+of the golden opportunity.
+
+It was not so much experience as a natural trend of mind paralleling
+Mr. Daw's which made Mr. Wix smile to himself all through this
+recital. He seemed to foresee each step in the plan before it was told
+him, and, when Mr. Gilman was through, the only point about which his
+friend was at all surprised, or even eager, was the matter of the
+three thousand.
+
+"Do you mean to say you can swing that amount?" he demanded.
+
+"I--I think I can," faltered Mr. Gilman. "In fact, I--I'm very sure of
+it. Although, of course, that's a secret," he hastily added.
+
+"Where would you get it?" asked Wix incredulously.
+
+"Well, for a sure thing like this, if you must know," said Gilman,
+gulping, but speaking with desperately businesslike decision, "I am
+sure Mr. Smalley would loan it to me. Although he wouldn't want it
+known," he again added quickly. "If you'd speak to him about it he'd
+deny it, and might even make me trouble for being so loose-tongued;
+so, of course, nobody must know."
+
+"I see," said Wix slowly. "Well, Cliff, you just pass up this tidy
+little fortune."
+
+"Pass it up!"
+
+"Yes, let it slide on by. Look on it with scorn. Wriggle your fingers
+at it. Let somebody else have that nine thousand dollars clean profit
+from the investment of three, all in a couple of days. I'm afraid it
+would give you the short-haired paleness to make so much money so
+suddenly. Ever hear of that disease? The short-haired paleness comes
+from wearing horizontal stripes in a cement room."
+
+For a moment young Gilman pondered this ambiguous reply in silence,
+then out of his secret distress he blurted:
+
+"But, Wix, I've _got_ to do something that will bring me in some
+money! I've run behind on my wheat trades. I've--I've _got_ to do
+something!"
+
+Wix, in the darkness, made a little startled movement, the involuntary
+placing of his finger-tips behind his ear; then he answered quietly:
+
+"I told you to keep away from that game. I tried it myself and know
+all about it."
+
+"I know, but I did it just the same," answered Gilman.
+
+Wix chuckled.
+
+"Of course you did. You're the woolly breed that keeps bucket-shops
+going. I'd like no better lazy life than just to run a bucket-shop and
+fill all my buckets with the fleeces of about a dozen of your
+bleating kind. It would be easy money."
+
+The front door of the Gilman house opened a little way, and the voice
+of a worried woman came out into the night:
+
+"Is that you, Cliffy?"
+
+"Yes, mother," answered Clifford. "Good night, old man. I want to be
+sure to see you before I go to the bank in the morning. I want to talk
+this thing over with you," and young Gilman hurried into the house.
+
+Wix looked after him as he went in, and stood staring at the glowing
+second-story window. Then he suddenly went back up to his own porch
+and got his hat. Fifteen minutes later he was at the desk of the Grand
+Hotel.
+
+"Mr. Daw," he said to the clerk.
+
+"I think Mr. Daw's probably gone to bed by this time, Wix," the clerk
+protested.
+
+"We'll wake him up, then. What's the number of his room? I'll do it
+myself."
+
+The clerk grinned.
+
+"If he kicks, you know, Wix, I can't blame you for it. I'll have to
+stand it myself."
+
+"He won't kick. What's his room?"
+
+"Number one," and again the clerk grinned. Nobody ever point-blank
+refused young Wix a favor. There was that in his bigness, and in the
+very jollity with which he defied life and its pretended gravity,
+which opened all doors to him. His breadth of chest had much to do
+with it.
+
+"The bridal chamber, eh?" he chuckled. "In that case, send up a bottle
+of champagne and charge it to Mr. Daw's account. Yes, I know the bar's
+closed, but you have a key. Go dig it out yourself, Joe, and do it in
+style."
+
+Unattended, Mr. Wix made his way to room one and pounded on the door.
+Mr. Daw, encased in blue pajamas and just on the point of retiring,
+opened cautiously, and was quite crestfallen when he recognized his
+visitor. Nevertheless, he thawed into instant amiability.
+
+"Glad to see you, old scout," he cried, and shaking hands with Wix,
+pulled him into the room. "I felt as if the old homestead was no
+longer home when I didn't find you here to-day. Sit down. What'll you
+have to drink?"
+
+"Wine, thanks," replied Wix. "They're getting it ready now. I gave
+them your order before I came up."
+
+Mr. Daw gasped and batted his eyes, but swallowed quickly and had it
+over with.
+
+"You see," explained Wix, as they seated themselves comfortably. "I
+thought, since we wouldn't have time for many drinks, that we might
+just as well make it a good one. I brought up this timetable. There's
+a train leaves for the East at five-thirty-seven this morning, and one
+leaves for the West at six-ten. Which are you going to take?"
+
+"Why, neither one," said Daw in some surprise. "I have some business
+here."
+
+"Yes," admitted Wix dryly; "I just saw Gilman. Which train are you
+taking?"
+
+"Neither, I said," snapped Daw, frowning, "I don't intend to leave
+here until I finish my work."
+
+"Oh, yes, you do," Wix informed him. "You're going about the time
+Gilman is washing his face for breakfast; and you won't leave any word
+for him."
+
+"How do you know so well?" retorted Daw. "Look here, Mr. Wix, this
+proposition I'm offering Gilman is a fair and square--"
+
+"You say that again and I'll bite you," interrupted Wix pleasantly.
+
+"I've got a pretty good left-handed punch of my own," flared Daw,
+advancing a threatening step.
+
+Wix, though much the larger man, betrayed his touch of physical
+cowardice by a fleeting shade of pallor, and moved over next the door.
+The Grand Hotel had not installed a room telephone service, still
+relying upon the convenient push-button. To this, Wix, affecting to
+treat the entire incident as a joke, called attention.
+
+"One ring, ice water," he read from the printed card above it; "two
+rings, bell boy; three rings, maid. I think about six rings will bring
+the clerk, the porter and the fire department," he observed; "but I
+don't see where we need them in a quiet little business talk like
+ours."
+
+"Oh, I see!" said Daw in the sudden flood of a great white light, and
+he smiled most amiably. "I promised you a rake-off when I spoke about
+this on the train, didn't I? And, of course, I'm willing to stick with
+it. If I pull this across there's a thousand in it for you."
+
+"No. It won't do," said Wix, shaking his head.
+
+"Say fifteen hundred, then."
+
+Once more Wix shook his head. He, also, smiled most amiably.
+
+"I guess you want it all?" charged Daw with a sneer.
+
+"Possibly," admitted Wix, then suddenly he chuckled so that his big
+shoulders heaved. "To tell you the truth," he stated, "I didn't know
+Gilman could put up so big a prize as all that nice money, or he
+wouldn't have had it loose to offer you by now. As soon as I get over
+the shock I'll know what to do about it. Just now, all I know is that
+he's not going into this real silky little joke of yours. I don't want
+to see the money go out of town."
+
+"I saw it first," Daw reminded him. "I don't care where he gets it,
+you know, just so I get it."
+
+"Wherever he gets it," said Wix impressively, "it will be secured in a
+perfectly legitimate manner. I want you to understand that much."
+
+"Oh, yes, I understood that, anyhow," acknowledged Daw, and the two
+young men looked quite steadily into each other's eyes, each knowing
+what the other thought, but refusing to admit it.
+
+It was Daw who first broke the ensuing silence.
+
+"Suppose I can't decide to wing my onward way?" he suggested.
+
+"Then I'll have you looking out on court-house square through the big
+grill."
+
+"On what charge?"
+
+"General principles," chuckled Wix.
+
+"I suppose there's a heavy stretch for that if they prove it on me,"
+returned Daw thoughtfully. There was no levity whatever in the reply.
+He had read the eyes of Wix correctly. Wix would have him arrested as
+sure as breakfast, dinner and supper.
+
+"Just general principles," repeated Wix; "to be followed by a general
+investigation. Can you stand it?"
+
+"I should say I can," asserted Daw. "What time did you say that train
+leaves? The one going east, I mean."
+
+"Five-thirty-seven."
+
+"Then, if you don't mind, you may leave me a call for five o'clock;"
+and Mr. Daw nonchalantly yawned.
+
+There came a knock at the door.
+
+"I'm sorry you have to leave us so soon, Mr. Daw," said Wix, admitting
+the clerk with the wine, and speaking with much regret in his tone.
+
+"I'll clink glasses with you, anyhow, old sport," offered Daw,
+accepting the inevitable gracefully, after the clerk had gone. "I
+don't know what your game is, but here's to it! Always remember,
+though, that I located this three thousand for you. I hate to leave it
+here. It was such easy money."
+
+"Easy money!" Again that phrase rang in the ears of young Wix, as he
+walked home, as he stood at his gate looking over at the second-story
+window of the Gilman house, and as he lay upon his pillow. To dwell in
+perpetual ease, to be surrounded with endless luxury, to spend money
+prodigally in all the glitter and pomp of the places that had been
+built at the demand of extravagance: these things had become an
+obsession with him--yet, for them, he was not willing to work and
+wait.
+
+Gilman felt that he had lost vast estates, when, upon calling at the
+hotel in the morning, he found that Mr. Daw had left upon an early
+train. He was worried, too, that he had not been able to see Wix
+before he started down-town. Most opportunely, however, Wix sauntered
+out of Sam Glidden's cigar store, opposite the hotel, as Gilman
+emerged upon the street.
+
+"When's the funeral?" asked Wix. "You look like a sick-headache
+feels."
+
+"Daw has gone, and without leaving me any word," quavered Gilman. "I
+suppose he'll--he'll probably write to me, though."
+
+"I'm betting that he has writer's cramp every time he tries it,"
+asserted Wix.
+
+"But I signed an agreement with him last night. He must write."
+
+"Does this look anything like that agreement," asked Wix, and from his
+pocket drew the document, torn once across each way. Gilman gazed at
+the pieces blankly. "I got it away from him, and tore it up myself,
+last night," continued Wix. "Also, I ran the gentleman out of town on
+the five-thirty-seven this morning, headed due east and still going."
+
+"What do you mean?" gasped Gilman. "Why, man, you've taken away the
+only chance I had to get even. I _have_ to make money, I tell you!"
+
+"Be calm, little Cliffy," admonished Wix soothingly. "I'm going to get
+it its money. Look here, Gilman, this man was a fake and I made him
+say so, but his coming here gave me an idea. I'm going to open a
+bucket-shop, and you're going to back it."
+
+"Not a bucket-shop!" objected Gilman, aghast at the very name.
+
+"Yes, a bucket-shop. Do you know how they operate? Of course not,
+merely having played against them. Well, suppose you gamble a thousand
+bushels of wheat on a two-cent margin, holding for a two-cent advance.
+What happens to your twenty dollars? The bucket expert takes out his
+buying commission of one-fourth cent a bushel. A straight broker
+takes off one-eighth cent, but your man milks you for a nifty little
+total of two dollars and a half, because you're a piker. If wheat goes
+down one and three-fourths cents you lose the other seventeen-fifty,
+don't you?"
+
+"Yes," admitted Gilman.
+
+"If it goes up two cents the man closes the deal and takes out another
+one-fourth cent a bushel for closing. That's another two-fifty. You
+get back thirty-five dollars. Your bucket-shop man is practically
+betting fifteen dollars of his money against twenty of yours on worse
+than an even break. Pretty good game for the bucket-shop man, isn't
+it? But there's more. He doesn't take as much risk as matching pennies
+on a three-to-four shot. Suppose he has one man betting that wheat
+will go up and another that it will go down. Each man puts up twenty,
+and one must lose. The man with the bucket runs no chances, and every
+time he takes in forty dollars he pays out only thirty-five of it.
+Twelve and one-half per cent. of all the money that passes through his
+hands stays there. Moreover, the winner puts his right back into the
+game, and the loser rakes up more, to win back what he lost. Pretty
+syrupy, eh? The only trouble with you is that you have been playing
+this game from the wrong end. Now, you're going to play it from the
+inside. I'm going to rent an office to-day. You're to back me to the
+extent of three thousand dollars, and we'll split the profits."
+
+Gilman's eyes glistened. He was one who did his thinking by proxy, and
+reflected enthusiasm with vast ease.
+
+"Do you suppose it would take the three thousand all at once?" he
+asked with some anxiety.
+
+"No, we won't need it in a lump," Wix decided, after some sharp
+thought over Gilman's nervousness; "but it must be where we can get
+all or any part of it at a minute's notice."
+
+Gilman drew such an obvious breath of relief that Wix became once more
+thoughtful; but it was a thoughtfulness that brought with it only
+hardening of the jaw and steeling of the eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+ WHICH SHOWS THE EASIEST WAY TO MAKE A
+ BUCKET-SHOP PAY
+
+
+Within three days, Wix, who was a curious blend of laziness and
+energy, had fitted up an office in a sample-room leading off the lobby
+of the Grand Hotel. Over the name on the door he puzzled somewhat, and
+it was only his hatred for every component syllable of "Jonathan
+Reuben Wix" that caused the sign finally to appear as "La Salle Grain
+and Stock Brokerage Company." The walls were freshly papered in deep
+red, a thick, red carpet was put upon the floor, a resplendent
+cashier's wicket and desk were installed, fine leather-padded chairs
+faced a neatly ruled blackboard; and the speculative element of
+Filmore walked right into its first real bucket-shop and made itself
+at home. It was a positive pleasure to lose money there, and it was a
+joy to have young Wix take it. He did it so jovially.
+
+Punctually every evening Wix handed to Gilman his half of the profits
+on the trades closed that day, and each week the profits became
+larger. Gilman was thrown into a constant state of delight; Wix bought
+him a horse and buggy. Gilman saw fortune just ahead of him; Wix saw
+possible disaster. It pained him to note that Filmore was optimistic.
+There were many more bulls than bears, which was not the ideal
+condition. There should have been a bear to offset every bull, in
+which case the La Salle Grain and Stock Brokerage Company would have
+run no risk whatever.
+
+Of course, the inevitable happened. All the wheat and stock gamblers
+of Filmore got in on a strong bull market and stayed in. When the
+market finally turned back and the "longs" were frightened out, the
+crash came, and every dollar was lost of the original three thousand.
+Wix, having anticipated the possibility of such an event, was
+disappointed but "game." Gilman, having more at stake and being at
+best a cheerful winner only, was frantic.
+
+"What shall I do? What shall I do?" he moaned, over and over.
+
+"Dig up more money," Wix cheerfully advised him.
+
+"I can't!" cried Gilman. "I've gone now even deeper than I dared." He
+was silent for a long time. Great beads of perspiration came on his
+brow. His hair was wet. "Wix," he finally burst out, "I've got to tell
+you something; something that no living creature knows but me."
+
+"No, you don't!" Wix sharply stopped him. "If you have any secrets,
+keep them to yourself. I am stone deaf."
+
+Gilman's eyes widened with a look of positive terror. For the first
+time in his life he had met that glare in the eyes of a supposed
+friend which denied friendship, sentiment or emotion of any sort;
+which told only of cold self-interest. Two or three times he essayed
+to speak, but he could not. He only stood with his sides heaving, like
+a spent dog.
+
+"There is no use whining about this thing," Wix went on sharply.
+"We've got to raise money, and that's all there is to it. How about
+your profits that I've been handing you? I've spent mine."
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"You said something about owing four hundred dollars before we began,"
+Wix went on. "I suppose you repaid that--that loan."
+
+Gilman dumbly nodded.
+
+"I've paid you over a thousand dollars rake-off. I suppose you saved
+the rest of it?"
+
+Again Gilman nodded his head.
+
+"Well, bring me that six hundred or whatever it is."
+
+Gilman mechanically produced it, all in one-hundred-dollar bills
+folded very flat.
+
+That morning Wix faced the business anew with six hundred dollars, and
+felt keenly his limited capital. His severe losses had been a good
+advertisement, and every man who had won a dollar was prepared to put
+it back. Wix, with a steady hand at the helm, stood through this
+crisis most admirably, refusing trades from buyers until he had
+sellers enough to offset them, and refusing excess trades from sellers
+until he had buyers to balance. Within two weeks he had a comfortable
+little sum, but now the daily division of spoils brought no balm to
+Gilman. He was suddenly old, and upon his face were appearing lines
+that would last him throughout his life. Upon the florid countenance
+of Wix there was not even the shadow of a crease.
+
+"Good money, boy," said he to Gilman, upon the day he handed over the
+completion of five hundred dollars. "This business is like a poker
+game. If the players stick at it long enough the kitty will have all
+the money."
+
+"I don't want it all," replied Gilman wearily. "Wix, if I ever get
+back the twenty-five hundred dollars that it will take to make me
+square, I swear before my Maker," and he held up his trembling, white
+hand, "never to touch another investment outside the bank as long as I
+live."
+
+"Your liver must be the color of a sick salmon," retorted Wix, but
+nevertheless he was himself disillusioned. The bucket-shop business
+was not what he had imagined it to be. It was not "easy money!" It had
+fluctuations, must be constantly watched, was susceptible to
+bankruptcy--and meant work! The ideal enterprise was one which,
+starting from nothing, involved no possible loss; which yielded a
+large block of cold cash within a short time, and which was then
+ended. Daw's idea was the most ideal that had come under his
+observation. That was really an admirable scheme of Daw's, except for
+one very serious drawback. It was dangerous. Now, if as clever a plan,
+and one without any menace from the law, could only be hinged upon
+some more legitimate business--say a bucket-shop concern....
+
+There is no analyzing a creation, an invention. It is not
+deliberately worked out, step by step. It is a flash of genius. At
+this moment young Wix created. The principle he evolved was, in fact,
+to stand him in good stead in a score of "safe" operations, but, just
+now, it was a gaudy new thing, and its beauty almost blinded him. The
+same idea had been used by many men before him, but Wix did not know
+this, and he created it anew.
+
+"Sam," he said to the cigar-store man next morning, "I want you to
+invest in The La Salle Grain and Stock Brokerage Company."
+
+"Not any," declared Sam. "You have two hundred of my money now."
+
+"Not the entire roll," denied Wix. "I only got twelve and one-half per
+cent."
+
+"If you'd take twelve and a half per cent. eight times you'd have it
+all," retorted Sam. "That's why I quit. I stood to lose two hundred
+dollars on a seven-point drop, or win a hundred and seventy-five on an
+eight-point raise. When I finally figured out that I had the tweezers
+into my hair going and coming, I didn't wish any more."
+
+"But suppose I'd offer you a chance to stand on the other side of the
+counter and take part of the change?"
+
+"I'd let you stand right here and talk a while. What's the matter?"
+
+"Haven't capital enough," explained Wix. "I think I refused to take a
+trade of yours one time, just because I had to play safe. I had to be
+in position to pay off all my losses or quit business."
+
+"How much are you increasing?" asked Glidden, interested.
+
+"A twenty-five-thousand-dollar stock company: two hundred and fifty
+shares at a hundred dollars each."
+
+"I might take a share or two," said Sam.
+
+"You'll take twenty," declared Wix, quite sure of himself. "I want
+four incorporators besides myself, and I want you to be one of them."
+
+"Is that getting me the stock any cheaper?"
+
+"Fifty per cent.; two thousand dollars' worth for a thousand. After we
+five incorporators are in we'll raise the price to par and not sell a
+share for a cent less."
+
+"How much do you get out of this?" Sam asked, with a leer of
+understanding.
+
+"Ten per cent. for selling the stock, and have the new company buy
+over the present one for ten thousand dollars' worth of shares."
+
+[Illustration: "Sam," he said, "I want you to invest"]
+
+"I thought so," said Glidden with a grin. "Fixtures, established
+business and good will, I suppose."
+
+Wix chuckled.
+
+"You put it in the loveliest words," he admitted.
+
+"You're a bright young man," said Glidden admiringly. "You'd better
+pay for those fixtures and put in the whole business at five hundred."
+
+"What do you suppose I'm enlarging the thing for, except to increase
+my income?" Wix demanded. "With ten thousand dollars' worth of stock
+I'd get only two-fifths of the profit, when I've been getting it all
+heretofore. As a matter of fact, I'm doing pretty well not to try to
+capture the majority."
+
+They both laughed upon this, and Glidden capitulated. Within
+forty-eight hours Wix had his four directors, all ex-traders who would
+rather make money than gamble, and each willing to put in a thousand
+dollars. As soon as they were incorporated they paid Wix his hundred
+shares for the old business, and that developing financier started out
+to sell the balance of the stock, on commission.
+
+It was an easy task, for his fellow-directors did all the advertising
+for him. Practically all he had to do was to deliver the certificates
+and collect. It was while he was engaged in this pleasant occupation
+that he went to Gilman with a blank certificate for twenty-five
+shares.
+
+"I think you said, Gilman, that if you could get your remaining
+twenty-five hundred dollars out of the La Salle you'd be satisfied,
+didn't you?"
+
+"Satisfied!" gasped Gilman. "Just show me how it can be done!"
+
+"Here's twenty-five hundred dollars' worth of stock in the new company
+I've incorporated from the old one, and it's selling--at par--like
+beer at a German picnic."
+
+"That would ruin me," Gilman protested in a panic. "You must sell it
+for me or I'm gone. Why, Wix, this new state bank inspection law has
+just gone into effect, and there may be an inspector at the bank any
+day."
+
+"I see," said Wix slowly, looking him straight in the eye, "and they
+may object to Smalley's having loaned you that money on insufficient
+security. Well, I'll see what I can do."
+
+Nevertheless, he let Gilman's stock lie while he sold the treasury
+shares, and, the market being still so eager that it seemed a shame
+not to supply it, _he sold his own_!
+
+There was now time for Gilman, and Wix, with an artistic eye for
+dramatic propinquities, presented his proposition to no less a person
+than Smalley, grinning, however, as he went in.
+
+"I couldn't think of such a thing, sir," squeaked that gentleman.
+"I'll have nothing to do with gambling in any way, shape or form."
+
+"No," agreed Wix, and carefully closed the door of Smalley's private
+office. "Well, this isn't gambling, Mr. Smalley. It's only the people
+outside who gamble. The La Salle doesn't propose to take any chances;
+it only takes commissions," and he showed to Mr. Smalley, very
+frankly, a record of his transactions, including the one disastrous
+period for the purpose of pointing out the flaw which had brought it
+about.
+
+Smalley inspected those figures long and earnestly, while Wix sat back
+smiling. He had penetrated through that leathery exterior, had
+discovered what no one else would have suspected: that in Smalley
+himself there ran a long-leashed gambling instinct.
+
+"But I couldn't possibly have my name connected with a matter of this
+sort," was Smalley's last citadel of objection.
+
+"Why should you?" agreed Wix, and then a diabolical thought came to
+him, in the guise of an exquisite joke. He had great difficulty in
+repressing a chuckle as he suggested it. "Why not put the stock in
+Gilman's name?"
+
+"It might be a very bad influence for the young man," protested
+Smalley virtuously, but clutching at the suggestion. "He is thoroughly
+trustworthy, however, and I suppose I can explain it to him as being a
+really conservative investment that should have no publicity. I think
+you said, Mr. Wix, that there are only twenty-five shares remaining to
+be sold."
+
+"That's all," Wix assured him. "You couldn't secure another share if
+you wanted it."
+
+"Very well, then, I think I shall take it."
+
+"I have the certificate in my pocket," said Wix, and he produced the
+identical certificate that he had offered Gilman some days before. It
+had already been signed by the complacent Sam Glidden as secretary.
+"Make this out to Gilman, shall I?" asked Wix, seating himself at
+Smalley's desk, and poising his pen above the certificate.
+
+"I believe so," assented Smalley, pursing up his lips.
+
+With a smile all of careless pleasure with the world, Wix wrote the
+name of Clifford M. Gilman, and signed the certificate as president.
+
+"Now, your check, Mr. Smalley, for twenty-five hundred, and the new La
+Salle Company is completely filled up, ready to start in business on a
+brand-new basis."
+
+With his lips still pursed, Smalley made out that check, and Wix shook
+hands with him most cordially as he left the room. Outside the door he
+chuckled. He was still smiling when he walked up to the cashier's
+wicket, where young Gilman sat tense and white-faced. Wix indorsed the
+check, and handed it through the wicket.
+
+"Here's your twenty-five hundred, Cliff," said he. "You can turn it
+over on the books of the bank as soon as you like."
+
+Gilman strove to voice his great relief, but his lips quivered and his
+eyes filled, and he could only turn away speechless. Wix had gone out,
+and Gilman was still holding in his nerveless fingers the check that
+had saved him, when Smalley appeared at his side.
+
+"Ah," said Smalley; "I see you have the check I gave Mr. Wix. Did he
+deposit?"
+
+"No, sir," replied Gilman, in a low voice; "he took currency."
+
+Mr. Smalley visibly winced.
+
+"A bill of exchange might have done him just as well," he protested.
+"No non-employing person has need of actual currency in that amount.
+I'm afraid young Wix is very extravagant--very. By the way, Mr.
+Gilman, I have been forced, for protection and very much against my
+will, to take some stock in an enterprise with which I can not have my
+name associated for very obvious business reasons; so I have taken the
+liberty of having the stock made out in your name," and, before young
+Gilman's eyes, he spread his twenty-five-share certificate of The La
+Salle Grain and Stock Brokerage Company.
+
+Gilman, pale before, went suddenly ghastly. The blow of mockery had
+come too soon upon the heels of his relief.
+
+"I can't have it," he managed to stammer through parched lips. "I must
+refuse, sir. I--I can not be connected in any way with that business,
+Mr. Smalley. I--I abhor it. Never, as long as I live--"
+
+Suddenly the fish-white face and staring eyes of Gilman were not in
+the line of Mr. Smalley's astonished vision, for Gilman had slid to
+the floor, between his high stool and his desk. Sam Glidden, coming
+into the bank a moment after, found Smalley working feverishly over
+the prostrate form of his feebly reviving clerk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+ JONATHAN REUBEN WIX CASTS ASIDE HIS ONLY
+ HANDICAP AND DISAPPEARS FOR EVER
+
+
+Just as Jonathan Reuben Wix reached his home, a delivery man was
+taking in at the front door a fine dresser trunk. On the porch stood a
+new alligator traveling-bag, and a big, new suit-case of thick sole
+leather, trimmed profusely with the most expensive knobs and clamps,
+and containing as elaborate a toilet set as is made for the use of
+men. In the hall he found five big pasteboard boxes from his tailor.
+He had the trunk and the suit-case and the traveling-bag delivered up
+to his room; the clothing he carried up himself.
+
+That morning he had dressed himself in new linen throughout. Now he
+took off the suit he wore and put on one of the new business suits. He
+opened half a dozen huge bundles of haberdashery which he had
+purchased within the past week, and began packing them in his trunk:
+underwear, shirts, socks, collars, cravats, everything brand new and
+of the choicest quality. He packed away the other new business suit,
+the Prince Albert, the tuxedo, the dress suit--the largest individual
+order his tailor had ever received--putting into his trunk and
+suit-case and traveling-bag not one thing that he had ever worn
+before; nor did he put into any of his luggage a single book or
+keepsake, for these things had no meaning to him. When he was
+completely dressed and packed he went to his mother's room and knocked
+on the door. It was her afternoon for the Women Journalists' Club, and
+she was very busy indeed over a paper she was to read on _The Press:
+Its Power for Evil_. Naturally, interruptions annoyed her very much.
+
+"Well, what is it, son?" she asked in her level, even tone as he came
+into the room. Her impatience was very nicely suppressed, indeed.
+
+"I'm going to New York on the six-thirty," he told her.
+
+"Really, I don't see how I can spare any money until the fifteenth,"
+she objected.
+
+"I have plenty of money," he assured her.
+
+"Oh," she replied with evident relief, and glanced longingly back at
+her neatly written paper.
+
+"I can even let you have some if you want it," he suggested.
+
+"No, thank you. I have sufficient, I am sure, portioned out to meet
+all demands, including the usual small surplus, up to the fifteenth.
+It's very nice of you to offer it, however."
+
+"You see," he went on, after a moment's hesitation, "I'm not coming
+back."
+
+She turned now, and faced him squarely for the first time.
+
+"You'd better stay here," she told him. "I'm afraid you'll cost me
+more away from home than you do in Filmore."
+
+"I shall never cost you a cent," he declared. "I have found out how
+to make money."
+
+She smiled in a superior way.
+
+"I am a bit incredulous; but, after all, I don't see why you
+shouldn't. Your father at least had that quality, and you should have
+inherited something from him besides"--and she paused a trifle--"his
+name." She sighed, and then continued: "Very well, son, I suppose you
+must carve out your own destiny. You are quite old enough to make the
+attempt, and I have been anticipating it for some time. After all, you
+really ought to have very little trouble in impressing the world
+favorably. You dress neatly," she surveyed him critically, "and you
+make friends readily. Shall I see you again before you go?"
+
+"I scarcely think so. I have a little down-town business to look
+after, and shall take dinner on the train; so I'll just say good-by
+to you now."
+
+He shook hands with her and stooped down, and they kissed each other
+dutifully upon the cheek. Mrs. Wix, being advanced, did not believe
+in kissing upon the mouth. After he had gone, a fleeting impression
+of loneliness weighed upon her as much as any purely sentimental
+consideration could weigh. She looked thoughtfully at the closed door,
+and a stirring of the slight maternal instinct within her made her
+vaguely wistful. She turned, still with that faint tugging within her
+breast which she could not understand, and it was purely mechanical
+that her eyes, dropping to the surface of the paper, caught the
+sentence: "Mental suggestion, unfit for growing minds, is upon every
+page." The word "Mental" seemed redundant, and she drew her pen
+through it, neatly changing the "s" in "suggestion" to a capital.
+
+A cab drove past Wix as he started down the street and he saw Smalley
+in it. He turned curiously. What was Smalley doing there? He stopped
+until he saw the cab draw up in front of Gilman's house. He saw
+Smalley assist young Gilman out of the cab, and Gilman's mother run
+out to meet them. He was thoughtful for a moment over that, then he
+shrugged his shoulders and strode on.
+
+On the train that night as he swaggered into the dining-car, owning
+it, in effect, and all it contained, he saw, seated alone at a far
+table, no less a person than Horace G. Daw, as black and as natty as
+ever, and with a mustache grown long enough to curl a little bit at
+the ends.
+
+"Hello, old pal," greeted Daw. "Where now?"
+
+"I'm going out alone into the cold, cold world, to make fortunes and
+spend them."
+
+"Half of that stunt is a good game," commented Mr. Daw.
+
+Wix chuckled.
+
+"Both ends of it look good to me," he stated. "I've found the recipe
+for doing it, and it was you that tipped off the plan."
+
+"I certainly am the grand little tipper-off," agreed Daw, going back
+in memory over their last meeting. "You got to that three thousand,
+did you?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Wix. "I only used it to get a little more. Our friend
+Gilman has his all back again. Of course, I didn't use your plan as it
+laid. It was too raw, but it gave me the suggestion from which I doped
+out one of my own. I've got to improve my system a little, though. My
+rake-off's too small. In the wind-up I handled twenty-one thousand
+dollars, and only got away with eight thousand-odd of it for myself."
+
+"You haven't it all with you?" asked Daw, a shade too eagerly.
+
+Wix chuckled, his broad shoulders heaving and his pink face rippling.
+
+"No use, kind friend," said he. "Just dismiss it from your active but
+greedy mind. If anybody gets away unduly with a cent of this wad, all
+they need to do is to prove it to me, and I'll make them a present of
+the balance. No, my dark-complected brother, the bulk of it is in a
+safe place in little old New York, where I can go get it as I need it;
+but I have enough along to buy, I think. It seems to me you bought
+last," and they both grinned at the reminiscence.
+
+"I wasn't thinking of trying to annex any of that coin," lied Mr. Daw
+glibly, and changing entirely his attitude toward Mr. Wix as his
+admiration grew; "but I was thinking that we might cook up something
+together. I'll put up dollar for dollar with you. I've just been
+harvesting, myself."
+
+Again Wix chuckled.
+
+"Declined with thanks," he returned. "I don't mind trailing around a
+bit with you when we get to New York, and also meeting the carefully
+assorted selection of dead-sure-thing geniuses who must belong to your
+set, but I'll go no further. For one thing, I don't like the idea of a
+partner. It cramps me to split up. For another thing, I wouldn't like
+to hook up in business with you. You're not safe enough; you trifle
+too much with the law, which is not only foolish but unnecessary."
+
+"Yes?" retorted Daw. "How about this eight thousand or so that you
+committed mayhem on Filmore to get?"
+
+"Good, honest money," asserted Wix. "I hate to boast about your
+present companion, but I don't owe Filmore a cent. I merely worked up
+a business and sold my share in it. Of course, they didn't know I was
+selling it, but they'll find out when they go over the records, which
+are perfectly straight. If, after buying the chance to go into
+business, they don't know what to do with it, it isn't my fault."
+
+A traveling man who had once been in the office of The La Salle Grain
+and Stock Brokerage Company for an afternoon's flyer, and who
+remembered the cordial ease with which Wix had taken his money, came
+over to the table.
+
+"Hello, Wix; how's tricks?" he hailed.
+
+Wix looked up at him blankly but courteously.
+
+"Beg pardon," he returned.
+
+The face of the traveling man fell.
+
+"Aren't you Mr. Wix, of Filmore?"
+
+"I'm afraid not," replied Wix, smiling with great cordiality. "Sorry
+to disappoint you, old man."
+
+"Really, I beg your pardon," said the traveling man, perplexed. "It is
+the most remarkable resemblance I ever saw. I would have sworn you
+were Wix. He used to run a brokerage shop in the Grand Hotel in
+Filmore."
+
+"Never was in the town," lied Wix.
+
+The man turned away. Daw looked after him with an amused smile.
+
+"By the way, Wix, what is your name now?"
+
+"By George, I haven't decided! I was too busy getting rid of my only
+handicap to think up a substitute. I'll tell you in a minute," and on
+the spur of the moment he invented a quite euphonious name, one which
+was to last him for a great many years.
+
+"Wallingford," he announced. "How does that hit you? J. Rufus
+Wallingford!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+ J. RUFUS PROVES A SAD, SAD DISAPPOINTMENT TO
+ SOME CLEVER PEOPLE
+
+
+They were glad to see Blackie Daw back on Broadway--that is, in the
+way that Broadway is glad; for they of the Great White Way have no
+sentiments and no emotions, and but scant memories. About Blackie's
+companion, however, they were professionally curious.
+
+"Who is this large, pink Wallingford person, and where did you get
+it?" asked Mr. Phelps, whose more familiar name was Green-Goods Harry.
+
+Mr. Daw, standing for the moment with Mr. Phelps at the famous old
+cheese-and-crackers end of the Fifth Avenue bar, grinned.
+
+"He's an educated Hick," he responded, "and I got him out of the heart
+of the hay-fever district, right after he'd turned a classy little
+trick on the easy producers of his childhood home. Sold 'em a bankrupt
+bucket-shop for eight thousand, which is going _some_!"
+
+Mr. Phelps, natty and jaunty and curly-haired, though shifty of eye,
+through long habit of trying to watch front and back doors both at
+once, looked with a shade more interest across at the imposing white
+vest of young J. Rufus where he stood at the bar with fat and somber
+Badger Billy. There was a cocksure touch to the joviality of young
+Wallingford which was particularly aggravating to an expert like Mr.
+Phelps. Young Wallingford was so big, so impressive, so sure of
+pleasing, so certain the world was his oyster, that it seemed a shame
+not to give his pride a tumble--for his own sake, of course.
+
+"Has he got the eight thousand on him, do you think?" asked the
+green-goods one, his interest rapidly increasing.
+
+"Not so you could notice it," replied Daw with conviction. "He's a
+wise prop, I tell you. He's probably lugging about five hundred in his
+kick, just for running expenses, and has a time-lock on the rest."
+
+"We might tinker with the lock," concluded Harry, running his fingers
+through his hair to settle the curls; "it's worth a try, anyhow."
+
+"You'll bounce right off," declared Mr. Daw. "I tried to put a sweet
+one over in his home town, and he jolted the game so quick he made
+its teeth rattle."
+
+"Then you owe him one," persisted Mr. Phelps, whom it pained to see
+other people have money. "Do you mean to say that any pumpkin husker
+can't be trimmed?"
+
+"Enjoy yourself," invited Mr. Daw with a retrospective smile, "but
+count me out. I'm going to Boston next week, anyhow. I'm going to open
+a mine investment office there. It's a nice easy money mining
+district."
+
+"For pocket mining," agreed his friend dryly.
+
+Young Wallingford, in his desire for everybody to be happy, looked
+around for them at this juncture, and further conversation was out of
+the question. The quartet lounged out of the Fifth Avenue bar and
+across Broadway in that dull way peculiar to their kind. At the
+Hoffman House bar they were joined by a cadaverous gentleman known to
+the police as Short-Card Larry, whose face was as that of a corpse,
+but whose lithe, slender fingers were reputed to have brains of their
+own, and the five of them sat down for a dull half-hour. Later they
+had dull dinner together, strolled dully into four theaters, and,
+still dull, wound up in the apartments of Daw and J. Rufus.
+
+"What do you think of them?" asked Blackie in their first aside
+moment.
+
+"They give me the pip," announced J. Rufus frankly. "Why do they hate
+themselves so? Why do they sit in the darkest corners and bark at
+themselves? Can't they ever drink enough to get oiled happy?"
+
+"Not and do business with strangers on Broadway," Daw explained.
+"Phelps has been shy about thin glassware for five years, ever since
+he let an Indiana come-on outdrink him and steal his own money back;
+Billy Banting stops after the third glass of anything, on account of
+his fat; the only time Larry Teller ever got pinched was for getting
+spifflicated and telling a reporter what police protection cost him."
+
+"If I wasn't waiting to see one of them bite himself and die of poison
+I'd cut 'em out," returned Mr. Wallingford in the utmost disgust. "Any
+one of them would slung-shot the others for the price of a cigarette.
+Don't they ever get interested in anything?"
+
+"Nothing but easy marks," replied Mr. Daw with a grin. "The way
+they're treating you is a compliment. They're letting you just be one
+of them."
+
+"One of them! Take it back, Blackie!" protested Wallingford. "Why,
+they're a bunch of crooks!"
+
+In deep dejection young Wallingford, rejoining his guests, ordered
+three lemonades and a quart of champagne. There was a trifle more of
+animation among them now, however, since they had been left alone for
+a few moments. They told three or four very hilarious stories, in each
+of which the nub of the joke hinged on an utter disregard of every
+human decency. Then, quite casually and after a lull, Badger Billy
+smoothed down his smart vest and cleared his throat.
+
+"What do you fellows say to a little game of stud?" he proposed.
+
+"Sure!" agreed Wallingford with alacrity. "That's the first live noise
+I've heard to-day," and he went to the 'phone at once to order up some
+cards and chips.
+
+With his back turned, the three lemonade drinkers exchanged pleased
+smiles. It was too easy! Mr. Daw let them smile, and reposed
+calmly upon the couch, entirely disinterested. Professional ethics
+forbade Mr. Daw to interfere with the "trimming" of the jovial Mr.
+Wallingford, and the instincts of a gentleman, with which, of course,
+they were all perfectly provided, prevented him from taking any part
+in that agreeable operation. To his keen amusement the game was very
+brief--scarcely more than twenty minutes.
+
+It was Short-Card Larry who, with a yawn, discovered suddenly how late
+it was and stopped the game. As he rose to go, young Wallingford,
+chuckling, was adding a few additional bills to the plethoric roll in
+his pocket.
+
+"What made you chop the game, Larry?" asked Green-Goods Harry in
+impatient wonder. "We'd ought to strung it along a while. What made
+you let him have that hundred and fifty so quick?"
+
+"Let him!" retorted Larry savagely. "He took it! Twice I gave him aces
+back to back on my deal, and he turned them down without a bet. On his
+own deal he bet his head off on a pair of deuces, with not one of us
+three able to draw out on him; and right there he cops that hundred
+and fifty himself. He's too fresh!"
+
+"Well," said Badger Billy philosophically, "he'll come for more."
+
+"Not of mine, he won't," snorted the dexterous one. "I can't do any
+business against a man that's next. I hope he chokes."
+
+"There you go again, letting your temper get the best of you,"
+protested Mr. Phelps, himself none too pleased. "This fresh lollop has
+coin, and it ought to be ours."
+
+"Ought to be? It _is_ ours," growled Larry. "We'll get it if we have
+to mace him, at noon, on Madison Square."
+
+In the meantime J. Rufus was chuckling himself to sleep. He rose at
+eleven, breakfasted at one, and was dressing and planning to besiege
+New York upon his own account, when the telephone advised him that Mr.
+Phelps was down-stairs with a parched throat, and on the way up to get
+a drink!
+
+"Fine business!" exclaimed J. Rufus with a cordiality which had
+nothing whatever to do with the puzzled expression on his brow.
+"What'll you have? I'll order it while you're on your way up."
+
+"Nothing stronger than a Scotch highball," was the reply, whereupon
+young Wallingford, as soon as the telephone was clear, ordered the
+materials therefor.
+
+"Fine business," he repeated to himself musingly as he stood with his
+hand still on the receiver after he had hung it up; "also rough work.
+This thirst is too sudden."
+
+He was still most thoughtful when Mr. Phelps knocked at the door, and
+had yet more food for contemplation when the caller began talking with
+great enthusiasm about his thirst, explaining the height and breadth
+and thickness thereof, its atomic weight, its color and the excellent
+style of its finish.
+
+"If I just had that thirst outside of me where I could get at it, I
+could make an airship of it," he imaginatively concluded.
+
+"Gas or hot air?" inquired young Mr. Wallingford, entirely unmoved, as
+he poured the highballs and dosed both quite liberally with the
+Scotch, whereat Mr. Phelps almost visibly winced, though gamely
+planning to drink with every appearance of enjoyment.
+
+"Where's Daw?" he asked, after two sips which he tried to make seem
+like gulps.
+
+"Gone out to a print-shop to locate a couple of gold mines," announced
+Wallingford dryly, holding his own opinion as to the folly of Mr.
+Daw's methods. They were so unsanctioned of law.
+
+"Sorry for that," said Mr. Phelps, who was nevertheless relieved to
+hear it, for Mr. Daw was rather in the way. "We've got a great game
+on; a Reuben right from Reubensville, with five thousand of pa's
+money in his jeans. I wanted you fellows to come and look him over."
+
+"What's the use?" returned Wallingford. "Come down to the lobby and
+I'll show you a whole procession of them."
+
+"No, but they're not so liberal as this boy," protested Phelps
+laughing. "He just naturally hones and hones and hones to hand us this
+nice little bundle of kale, and we're going to accommodate him. You
+can get in on the split-up if you want to. Daw would have first
+choice, of course, if he was here, but since he isn't you might as
+well come in. Five thousand iron men are hardly worth bending to pick
+up, I guess."
+
+"Oh, I don't know," objected Wallingford condescendingly. "It would
+make cigarette money, anyhow, if there are not too many to tear it
+apart."
+
+"It takes just four," Phelps informed him: "look-out, spieler,
+panel-man and engraver."
+
+Wallingford shook his head, refusing even to speculate on the duties
+of the four named actors in the playlet.
+
+"Four makes it hardly union wages," he objected.
+
+Green-Goods Harry cast at him a look of quick dislike.
+
+"I know, but wait till you see the sample," he insisted. "The fun's
+worth more than the meat. He's the rawest you ever saw; wants green
+goods, you know; thinks there really is green-goods, and stands ready
+to exchange his five thousand of the genuine rhino for twenty of the
+phoney stuff. Of course you know how this little joke is rimmed up. We
+count out the twenty thousand in real money and wrap it up in bales
+before both of his eyes, then put it in a little satchel of which we
+make Mr. Alfred Alfalfa a present. While we're giving him the solemn
+talk about the po-lice Badger Billy switches in another satchel with
+the same kind of looking bales in it, but made out of tissue-paper
+with twenties top and bottom; then we all move, and Henry Whiskers
+don't dare make a holler because he's in on a crooked play himself;
+see?"
+
+"I see," assented Wallingford still dryly. "I've been reading the
+papers ever since I was a kid. What puzzles me is how you can find
+anybody left in the world who isn't hep."
+
+"There's a new sucker born every minute," returned Mr. Phelps airily,
+whereat Wallingford, detecting that Mr. Phelps held his intelligence
+and education so cheaply as to offer this sage remark as original,
+inwardly fumed.
+
+"Come on and look him over, anyhow," insisted Phelps, rising.
+
+Wallingford arose reluctantly.
+
+"What's the matter with your highball?" he demanded.
+
+"It's great Scotch!" said Mr. Phelps enthusiastically, and drank about
+a tablespoonful with great avidity. "Come on; the boys are waiting,"
+and he surged toward the door.
+
+Wallingford finished his own glass contemplatively and followed with a
+trace of annoyance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ WALLINGFORD HELPS IN A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET
+ PURELY FOR ACCOMMODATION
+
+
+Into the back room of a flashy saloon just off Broadway Mr. Phelps led
+the way, after pausing outside to post Wallingford carefully on all
+their new names, and here they found Billy Banting and Larry Teller in
+company with a stranger, one glance at whom raised Wallingford's
+spirits quite appreciably, for he was so obviously made up.
+
+He was a raw-boned young fellow who wore an out-of-date derby, a
+cheap, made cravat which rode his collar, a cheap suit of loud-checked
+clothes that was entirely too tight for him, and the trousers of
+which, two inches too short, were rounded stiffly out below the knees,
+like stove-pipes, by top-boots which were wrinkled about the ankles.
+Moreover, the stranger spoke with a nasal drawl never heard off the
+stage.
+
+Wallingford, with a wink from Phelps, was introduced to Mr. Pickins
+as Mr. Mombley. Then, leaning down to Mr. Pickins with another
+prodigious wink at Wallingford, Phelps said in a stage-whisper to the
+top-booted one:
+
+"Mr. Mombley is our engraver. Used to work in the mint."
+
+"Well, I'll swan!" drawled Mr. Pickins. "I'd reckoned to find such a
+fine gove'ment expert a older man."
+
+With a sigh Wallingford took up his expected part.
+
+"I'm older than I look," said he. "Making money keeps a man young."
+
+"I reckon," agreed Mr. Pickins, and "haw-hawed" quite broadly. "And
+did you really make this greenback?" he asked, drawing from his vest
+pocket a crinkled new ten-dollar-bill which he spread upon the table
+and examined with very eager interest indeed.
+
+"This is one of that last batch, Joe," Short-Card Larry negligently
+informed Wallingford, with a meaning wink. "I just gave it to him as a
+sample."
+
+"By jingo, it's scrumptious work!" said Mr. Pickins admiringly.
+
+"Yes, they'll take that for a perfectly good bill anywhere," asserted
+Wallingford. "Just spend it and see," and he pushed the button. "Bring
+us a bottle of the best champagne you have in the house," he directed
+the waiter, and with satisfaction he noted the startled raising of
+heads all around the table, _including the head of Mr. Pickins_.
+
+"I don't like to brag on myself," continued Wallingford, taking on
+fresh animation as he began to see humor in the situation, "but I
+think I'm the grandest little money-maker in the city, in my special
+line. I don't go after small game very often. A ten is the smallest I
+handle. Peters," he suddenly commanded Phelps, "show him one of those
+lovely twenties."
+
+"I don't think I have one of the new ones," said Phelps, moistening
+his lips, but nevertheless reaching for his wallet. "I think the only
+twenties I have are those that we put through the aging process."
+
+Wallingford calmly took the wallet from him and as calmly leafed over
+the bills it contained.
+
+"No, none of these twenties is from the new batch," he decided,
+entering more and more into the spirit of the game, "but this
+half-century is one that we're all proud of. Just examine that, Mr.
+Pickins," and closing the wallet he handed it back to Phelps, passing
+the fifty-dollar bill to the stranger. "Billy, give me one of those
+twenties. I'm bound to show Mr. Pickins one of our best output."
+
+Badger Billy, being notorious even among his fellows as a tight-wad,
+swallowed hard, but he produced a small roll of bills and extracted
+the newest twenty he could find. During this process it had twice
+crossed Billy's mind to revolt; but, after all, Wallingford was
+evincing an interest in the game that might be worth while.
+
+"That's it," approved Wallingford, running it through his fingers and
+passing it over to Pickins. He got up from his place and took the
+vacant chair by that gentleman. "I just want you to look at the nifty
+imitation of engine work in this scroll border," he insisted with vast
+enthusiasm, while Mr. Pickins cast a despairing glance, half-puzzled
+and half-bored, at the others of the company, themselves awed into
+silence.
+
+He was still explaining the excellent work in the more intricate
+portions of the two designs when the waiter appeared with the wine,
+and Wallingford only interrupted himself long enough nonchalantly to
+toss the ten-dollar bill on the tray after the glasses were filled.
+Then, with vast fervor, he returned to the counterfeiting business,
+with the specimens before him as an inspiring text.
+
+The waiter brought back two dollars in silver.
+
+"Just keep the change," said Wallingford grandly, and then, as the
+waiter was about to withdraw, he quickly handed up the fifty and the
+twenty-dollar bills to him. "Just take this twenty, George," said he
+to the waiter, "and run down to the cigar-store on the corner and buy
+some of those dollar cigars. You might as well get us about three
+apiece. Then take this fifty and get us a box for _The Prince of
+Pikers_ to-night. Hustle right on, now," and he gave the waiter a
+gentle but insistent shove on the arm that had all the effect of
+bustling him out of the room. "We'll show Mr. Pickins a good time," he
+exultantly declared. "We'll show him how easy it is to live on soft
+money like this."
+
+[Illustration: "Just keep the change," said Wallingford grandly]
+
+Wallingford had held the floor for fifteen solid minutes. Now he
+paused for some one else to offer a remark, his eager eye glowing
+with the sense of a duty not only well, but brilliantly, performed,
+as it roved from one to the other in search of approval. But feeble
+encouragement was in any other eye. Four men could have throttled him,
+singly and in company. Wallingford was too enthusiastic an actor. He
+was taking the part entirely too well, and a vague doubt began to
+cross the minds of the other gentlemen in the party as to whether he
+would do or not. It was Short-Card Larry who first recovered his poise
+and broke the dismal silence.
+
+"Show him one or two of those new hundreds, Mombley," he invited
+Wallingford with almost a snarl.
+
+Wallingford merely smiled in a superior way.
+
+"You know I never carry any but the genuine," he said in mild
+reproach. "It wouldn't do, you know. Anyhow, are we sure that Mr.
+Pickins wants to invest?"
+
+Mr. Pickins drew a long breath and once more plunged into the
+character which he had almost doffed.
+
+"Invest? Well, I reckon!" he nasally drawled. "If I can get twenty
+thousand dollars as good money as that for five, I'd be a blame fool
+not to take it. And I got the five thousand, too."
+
+Things were coming back to a normal basis now, and the others cheered
+up.
+
+"Look here," Mr. Pickins went on, and, reaching down, he drew off with
+much tugging one of the high boots, in the top of which had reposed a
+package of greenbacks: ten crisp, nice-looking five-hundred-dollar
+bills.
+
+For just a moment Wallingford eyed that money speculatively, then he
+picked up one of the bills and slid it through his fingers.
+
+"It's good money, I suppose," he observed. "You can hardly tell the
+good from the bad these days, except by offering to spend it. We might
+break one of these--say for an automobile ride."
+
+"No, you don't," hurriedly interposed Mr. Pickins, losing his nasal
+drawl for the moment and reaching for the bill, which he put back in
+the package, snapping a weak rubber band around it. "I reckon I don't
+let go of one of these bills till I see something in exchange. I--I
+ain't no greenhorn!"
+
+His nasal drawl had come back, and now seemed to be the cue for all
+the others to affect laughter.
+
+"To be sure he's not," said Mr. Phelps, reaching over to slap him on
+the back in all the jovial heartiness with which a greenhorn is
+supposed to be encouraged. "You're wise, all right, Pickins. We
+wouldn't do business with you if you weren't. You see, we're putting
+ourselves in danger of the penitentiary and we have to be careful.
+More than that, wise people come back; and, with a dozen or so like
+Mr. Pickins shoving the queer for us, we put out about all we can
+make. Nobody in the business, Mr. Pickins, gets as high a price for
+green-goods as we do, and nobody in the business keeps all their
+customers as we do. That's because our output is so good."
+
+This, which was one of the rehearsed speeches, went off very well, and
+they began to feel comfortable again.
+
+"That's me, by Jinks!" announced Pickins, slapping his leg. "I'll be
+one of your steady customers, all right. When'll I get this first
+twenty thousand?"
+
+"Right away," said Mr. Phelps, rising. "Just wait a moment till I talk
+it over with the engraver and see if he has the supply ready."
+
+"The supply's all right," declared Wallingford. "These boys will 'tend
+to the business with you, Mr. Pickins. I'm very glad to have met you.
+I'll probably see you to-night at the show. I have to go back and look
+after a little more engraving just now." And, shaking hands cordially
+with Mr. Pickins, he rose to go.
+
+"Wait a minute, Mombley," said Phelps amidst a general scowl, and
+he walked outside with Wallingford. "Fine work, old man," he
+complimented, keeping his suavity with no little effort. "We can
+go right in and pick our bunch of posies any minute."
+
+"Go right ahead!" said Wallingford heartily. "I'm glad to have helped
+you out a little."
+
+Mr. Phelps looked at him in sour speculation.
+
+"Of course you're in on it," he observed with a great air of making a
+merely perfunctory remark.
+
+"Me?" inquired Wallingford in surprise. "Not on your life. I only
+played engraver for accommodation. I thought I did a grand little
+piece of work, too."
+
+"But we can't go through without you," insisted Mr. Phelps
+desperately, ignoring the other's maddening complacency and sticking
+to the main point. "It takes twenty thousand and we only have five
+thousand apiece. We're looking to you for the other five."
+
+Wallingford looked him squarely in the eyes, with an entire change of
+manner, and chuckled.
+
+"There are four reasons, Phelps, why I won't," he kindly explained.
+"The first is, I never do anything in partnership; second, I never
+pike; third, I won't take a fall out of any game that has the
+brown-and-white-striped clothes at the end of it; fourth, Billy might
+not get the satchels switched right; _extra, I won't fool with any
+farmer that strikes a match on the sole of his boot_!"
+
+The fifth and extra reason was so unexpected and was laid before Mr.
+Phelps with such meaning emphasis that that gentleman could only drop
+his jaw and gape in reply. Wallingford laid both hands on his
+shoulders and chuckled in his face.
+
+"You're a fiercely unimaginative bunch," he said. "Let's don't try to
+do any more business together. Just come up to my room to-night and
+have a friendly game of stud poker."
+
+At last Green-Goods Harry found his tongue.
+
+"You go to hell!" said he.
+
+Back in their common sitting-room, Wallingford found Daw studying some
+gaudy samples of stock certificates. "Blackie, did you tell this gang
+of yours that they didn't drink enough to suit me?" Wallingford
+demanded.
+
+Blackie grinned.
+
+"They wanted to know why you wouldn't warm up," he admitted.
+
+"I see the pretty, pretty lights at last," Wallingford chuckled. "I
+was sure there was something doing when Curly Harry came up here
+claiming a thirst, and went so far as to drink champagne on top of a
+highball."
+
+"He's taking stomach and liver dope right now," Blackie guessed. "You
+see, these Broadway boys are handicapped when they run across a man
+who still has a lining. They lost theirs years ago."
+
+"They lost everything years ago. I'm disappointed in them, Blackie. I
+had supposed that these people of the metropolis had Herman the Great
+looking like a Bowery waiter when it came to smooth work; but they've
+got nothing but thumbs."
+
+"You do them deep wrong, J. Rufus Wallingford Wix," admonished
+Blackie. "I've trailed with this crowd four or five years. They're
+always to be found right here and they always have coin--whether they
+spend it or not."
+
+"They get it gold-bricking New Yorkers, then," declared Wallingford
+contemptuously. "They couldn't cold deck anybody on the rural free
+delivery routes. They wear the lemon sign on their faces, and when one
+of their kind comes west of the big hills we padlock all our money in
+our pockets and lock ourselves in jail till they get out of town."
+
+"What have they been doing to you?" asked Blackie. "You've got a
+regular Matteawan grouch."
+
+"They had the nerve to try to ring me in for the fall guy on a
+green-goods play, baited up with a stage farmer from One Hundred and
+Sixtieth Street," asserted Wallingford. "Don't they ever spring a new
+one here?"
+
+Mr. Blackie Daw only laughed.
+
+"I'm afraid they don't," he confessed. "They take the old ones that
+have got the money for years, and work in new props and scenery on
+them, just like they do in the theaters; and that goes for Broadway."
+
+"It don't go for me," declared Wallingford. "If they come after mine
+again I'll get real peevish and take their flash rolls away from
+them."
+
+"Go to it," invited Blackie. "They need a trimming."
+
+"I think I'll hand it to them," said Wallingford savagely, and started
+to walk out.
+
+"Where are you going?" asked the other.
+
+"I don't know," said Wallingford, "but I am going to scare up some
+excitement in the only way possible for a stranger, and that is go out
+and hunt for it by myself. No New Yorker knows where to go."
+
+In the bar Wallingford found a convivial gentleman from Georgia,
+lonesome like himself, with whom he became firm friends in an hour,
+and it was after midnight when, their friendship still further fixed
+by plenty of liquid cement, he left the Georgian at one of the broad,
+bright entrances in charge of a door-man. It being but a few blocks to
+his own hotel, he walked, carrying with complacent satisfaction a
+burden of assorted beverages that would have staggered most men.
+
+It was while he was pausing upon his own corner for a moment to
+consider the past evening in smiling retrospection, that a big-boned
+policeman tapped him on the shoulder. He was startled for a moment,
+but a hearty voice reassured him with:
+
+"Why, hello, Wix, my boy! When did you come to town?"
+
+A smile broke over Wallingford's face as he shook hands with the
+bluecoat.
+
+"Hello, Harvey," he returned. "I never would have looked for you in
+this make-up. It's a funny job for the ex-secretary of the Filmore
+Coal Company."
+
+"Forget it," returned Harvey complacently. "There's three squares a
+day in this and pickings. Where are you stopping?"
+
+Wallingford told him, and then looked at him speculatively.
+
+"Come up and see me when you go off watch," he invited. "But don't ask
+for me under the name of Wix. It's Wallingford now, J. Rufus
+Wallingford."
+
+"No!" said Harvey. "What did you do at home?"
+
+"Not a thing," protested Wallingford. "I can go right back to Filmore
+and play hop-scotch around the county jail if I want to. I just didn't
+like the name, that's all. But I want to talk with you, Harvey. I
+think I can throw about a hundred or so in your way."
+
+"Not me," returned Harvey with a grin. "That's the price of a murder
+in this town."
+
+"Come up, and I'll coax you," laughed Wallingford.
+
+He walked away quite thoughtfully. Harvey Willis, who had left Filmore
+on account of his fine sense of honor--he had embezzled to pay a poker
+debt--seemed suddenly to fit an empty and an aching void.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A THIRD ARM TO THE OLD-FASHIONED DOUBLE CROSS
+
+
+"The fresh Hick!" observed Mr. Pickins savagely. "I'd like to hand him
+a bunch of knuckles."
+
+Mr. Pickins was not now in character, but was clad in quite ordinary
+good clothes; his prominent cheek-bones, however, had become two white
+spots in the midst of an angrily red countenance.
+
+"I don't know as I blame him so much," said Phelps. "The trouble is
+we sized him for about the intelligence of a louse. Anybody who would
+stand for your Hoop-pole County line of talk wouldn't need such a
+careful frame-up to make him lay down his money."
+
+"There's something to that," agreed Short-Card Larry. "I always did
+say your work was too strong, Pick."
+
+"There ain't another man in the crowd can play as good a Rube,"
+protested Mr. Pickins, touched deeply upon the matter of his art. "I
+don't know how many thousands we've cleaned up on that outfit of
+mine."
+
+"Ye-e-es, but this Wallingford person called the turn," insisted
+Phelps. "The only times we ever made it stick was on the kind of
+farmers that work in eleven-story office buildings. You can fool a man
+with a stuffed dog, but you can't fool a dog with it; and you couldn't
+fool Yap Wallingford with a counterfeit yap."
+
+"Well," announced Mr. Pickins, with emphatic finality, "you may have
+my part of him. I'm willing to let him go right back to Oskaloosa, or
+Oshkosh, or wherever it is."
+
+"Not me," declared Phelps. "I want to get him just on general
+principles. He's handed me too much flossy talk. You know the last
+thing he had the nerve to say? He invited us up to play stud poker
+with him."
+
+"Why don't you?" asked Pickins.
+
+"Ask Larry," said Phelps with a laugh, whereat Larry merely swore.
+
+Badger Billy, who had been silently listening with his eyes half
+closed, was possessed of a sudden inventive gift.
+
+"Yes, why don't you?" he repeated. "If I read this village cut-up
+right, and I think I do, he'll take a sporting chance. Get him over to
+the Forty-second Street dump on a proposition to play two-handed stud
+with Harry there, then pull off a phoney pinch for gambling."
+
+"No chance," returned Phelps. "He'd be on to that game; it's a dead
+one, too."
+
+"Not if you work it this way," insisted Billy, in whom the creative
+spirit was still strong. "Tell him that we're all sore at Harry, here;
+that Harry threw the gang last night and got me put away. I'll have
+McDermott take me down and lock me up on suspicion for a couple of
+hours, so you can bring him down and show me to him. Tell him you've
+found a way to get square. Harry's supposed to have a grouch about
+that stud poker taunt and wants to play Wallingford two-handed, five
+thousand a side. Tell him to go into this game, and that just when
+they have the money and the cards on the table, you'll pull off a
+phoney pinch and have your fake officer take the money and cards for
+evidence, then you'll split up with him."
+
+Billy paused and looked around with a triumphant eye. It was a long,
+long speech for the Badger, and a vivid bit of creative work of which
+he felt justly proud.
+
+"Fine!" observed Larry in deep sarcasm. "Then I suppose we give him
+the blackjack and take it all away from him?"
+
+"No, you mutt," returned Billy, having waited for this objection so as
+to bring out the clever part of his scheme as a climax. "Just as we
+have Dan pull off the pinch, in jumps Sprig Foles and pinches Dan for
+impersonating an officer. Then Sprig cops the money and the cards for
+evidence, while we all make a get-away."
+
+A long and thoughtful silence followed the exposition of this great
+scheme of Billy's. It was Phelps who spoke first.
+
+"There's one thing about it," he admitted: "it's a new one."
+
+"Grandest little double cross that was ever pulled over," announced
+Billy in the pride of authorship.
+
+It was a matter of satisfaction, to say nothing of surprise, to
+Short-Card Larry to note the readiness, even the alacrity, with which
+young Wallingford fell into the trap. Would he accept the traitorous
+Mr. Phelps' challenge if guaranteed that he would win? He would! There
+was nothing young Wallingford detested so much as a traitor.
+Moreover, he had a grouch at Mr. Phelps himself.
+
+Short-Card Larry had expected to argue more than this, and, having
+argument still lying heavily upon his lungs, must rid himself of it.
+It must be distinctly understood that the crowd wanted nothing
+whatever out of this. They merely wished to see the foresworn Mr.
+Phelps lose all his money, so that he could not hire a lawyer to
+defend him, and when he was thus resourceless they intended to have
+him arrested on an old charge and "sent over." They were very severe
+and heartless about Mr. Phelps, but they did not want his money. They
+would not touch it! Wallingford could have it all with the exception
+of the two hundred and fifty dollars he would have to pay to the
+experienced plain-clothes-man impersonator whom Larry, having a wide
+acquaintance, would secure.
+
+Mr. Wallingford understood perfectly. He appreciated thoroughly the
+motives that actuated Mr. Larry Teller and his friends, and those
+motives did them credit. He counted himself, moreover, highly
+fortunate in being on hand to take advantage of the situation. Still
+moreover, after the trick was turned he would stand a fine dinner for
+the entire crowd, including Mr. Pickins, to whom Mr. Teller would
+kindly convey his, Mr. Wallingford's, respects.
+
+Accepting this commission with some inward resentment but outward
+pleasure, Mr. Teller suggested that the game be played off that very
+afternoon. Mr. Wallingford was very sorry. That afternoon and evening
+he had business of grave importance. To-morrow evening, however, say
+at about nine o'clock, he would be on hand with the five thousand, in
+bills of convenient denomination. Mr. Teller might call for him at the
+hotel and escort him to the room, although, from having had the
+location previously pointed out to him, Mr. Wallingford was quite sure
+he could find Mr. Teller's apartment, where the contest was to take
+place. Left alone, Mr. Wallingford, in the exuberance of his youth,
+lay back in his big chair and spent five solid minutes in chuckling
+self-congratulation, to the great mystification of the incoming Mr.
+Daw, whom J. Rufus would not quite trust with his reason for mirth.
+Feeling the need of really human companionship at this juncture, young
+Wallingford called up his convivial friend from Georgia and they went
+out to spend another busy and pleasant afternoon and evening, amid a
+rapidly widening circle of friends whom these two enterprising and
+jovial gentlemen had already managed to attach to them. With an eye to
+business, however, Wallingford carefully timed their wanderings so
+that he should return, alone, on foot, to his own hotel a trifle after
+midnight.
+
+As Mr. Teller and Mr. Wallingford, on the following evening at a few
+minutes before nine, turned into the house on Forty-second Street,
+they observed a sturdy figure helping a very much inebriated man up
+the stone steps just before them, but as the sturdy figure inserted a
+latch-key in the door and opened it with one hand while supporting his
+companion with the other arm, the incident was not one to excite
+comment. Just inside the door the inebriated man tried to raise a
+disturbance, which was promptly squelched by the sturdy gentleman, who
+held his charge firmly in a bearlike grip while Mr. Teller and Mr.
+Wallingford passed around them at the foot of the stairs, casting
+smiling glances down at the face of the perpetually-worried landlady,
+who had come to the parlor door to wonder what she ought to do about
+it.
+
+In the second floor back room Mr. Phelps and Mr. Badger already
+awaited them. Mr. Badger's greeting to Larry was the ordinary
+greeting of one man who had seen the other within the hour; his
+greeting to Mr. Wallingford was most cordial and accompanied by the
+merest shade of a wink. Mr. Phelps, on the other hand, was most grim.
+While not denying the semblance of courtesy one gentleman should
+bestow upon another, he nevertheless gave Mr. Wallingford distinctly
+to understand by his bearing that he was out for Mr. Wallingford's
+financial blood, and after the coldest of greetings he asked gruffly:
+
+"Did you bring cards?"
+
+"One dollar's worth," said Wallingford, tossing four packs upon the
+table. "Ordinary drug-store cards, bought at the corner."
+
+"You see them bought, Larry?" inquired Phelps.
+
+"They're all right, Phelps," Mr. Teller assured him.
+
+"Good," said Mr. Phelps. "Then we might just as well get to work right
+away," and from his pocket he drew a fat wallet out of which he
+counted five thousand dollars, mostly in bills of large denomination.
+
+In the chair at the opposite side of the little table Wallingford sat
+down with equal grimness, and produced an equal amount of money in
+similar denominations.
+
+"I don't suppose we need chips," said Phelps. "The game may not last
+over a couple of deals. Make it table stakes, loser of each hand to
+deal the next one."
+
+They opened a pack of cards and cut for the deal, which fell to
+Wallingford, and they began with a mutual five-dollar ante. Upon the
+turn card of the first deal each placed another five. Upon the third
+card, Phelps, being high, shoved forward a five-dollar bill, which
+Wallingford promptly raised with fifty. Scarcely glancing at his
+hole-card, Phelps let him take the pot, and it became Phelps' deal.
+
+It was a peculiar game, in that Phelps kept the deal from then on,
+betting mildly until Wallingford raised, in which case Wallingford was
+allowed to take down the money. By this means Wallingford steadily
+won, but in such small amounts that Mr. Phelps could have kept playing
+for hours on his five thousand dollars in spite of the annoyance of
+maudlin quarreling from the next room. It was not necessary to enter
+such a long test of endurance to gain mere time, however, for in less
+than a half-hour the door suddenly burst open, its latch-bar losing
+its screws with suspicious ease, and a gaunt but muscular-looking
+individual with a down-drooping mustache strode in upon them,
+displaying a large shining badge pinned on his vest underneath his
+coat.
+
+"Every man keep his seat!" commanded this apparition. "The place is
+pinched as a gambling joint."
+
+Mr. Phelps made a grab for the money on the table.
+
+"Drop that!" said the new-comer, making a motion toward his hip
+pocket, and Mr. Phelps subsided in his chair.
+
+The others had posed themselves most dramatically, and now they sat in
+motionless but trembling obedience to the law, while the man with the
+tin badge produced from his pocket a little black bag into which he
+stuffed the cards and all the money on the table.
+
+"It's a frame-up!" shouted Mr. Phelps.
+
+Loud voices and the overturning of chairs from the room just ahead
+interrupted them at this moment, and not only Mr. Badger and Mr.
+Teller and Mr. Phelps looked annoyed, but the man with the shining
+badge glanced apprehensively in that direction, especially as, added
+to the sudden uproar, there was the unmistakable clang of a
+patrol-wagon in the street.
+
+Simultaneously with this there bounded into the room a large gentleman
+with a red face and a husky voice, who whipped a revolver from his
+pocket the minute he passed the threshold and leveled it at the man
+with the badge, while all the others sprang from their chairs.
+
+"Hands up!" said he, in a hurried but businesslike manner, himself
+apparently annoyed with and apprehensive of the adjoining disturbance
+and the clanging in the street. "This is a sure-enough pinch, but it
+ain't for gambling, you can bet your sweet life! You're all pulled for
+a bunch of cheap sure-thing experts, but this guy has got the
+lock-step comin' to him for impersonating an officer. You've played
+that gag too long, Dan Blazer. Give me that evidence!" and he snatched
+the black bag from the hand of the man with the badge.
+
+Short-Card Larry, standing near what was apparently a closet door, now
+took his cue and threw it open, and, grabbing Wallingford by the arm,
+suddenly pulled him forward. "This is the real thing," he said in a
+hoarse whisper. "We've got to make a get-away or go up. They're
+fierce on us here if the pinch once comes."
+
+"Hello, boys," broke in a third new voice, and then the real shock
+came. The third new voice was not in the play at all, and the
+consternation it wrought was more than ludicrous.
+
+Wallingford, drawing back for a moment, was nearly knocked off his
+feet by fat Badger Billy's dashing past him through that door to the
+back stairway, closely followed by Mr. Phelps, and Mr. Phelps was
+trailed almost as closely by the gaunt man of the badge. Glancing
+toward the door, Mr. Wallingford smiled beatifically. The cause of all
+this sudden exodus was huge Harvey Willis, in his blue suit and brass
+buttons and helmet, with a club in his hand, who, making one dive for
+the husky red-faced man as he, too, was bent on disappearing, whanged
+him against the wall with a blow upon the head from his billy; and as
+the red-faced man fell over, Harvey grabbed the black bag. The crash
+of a breaking water-pitcher from the adjoining room, the shrill voice
+of a protesting and frightened landlady as she came tearing up the
+stairs, and the clamor of one of those lightning-collected mobs in
+front of the house around the patrol-wagon, created a diversion in
+the midst of which Harvey Willis started out into the hall, a
+circumstance which gave the dazed red-faced man an opportunity to
+stagger down the back stairway and out through the alley after his
+companions, whom Wallingford had already followed. They were not
+waiting for him, by any means, but this time were genuinely interested
+in getting away from the law, each man darkly suspicious of all the
+others, and Wallingford, alone, serene in mind.
+
+In the hall, Willis, with a grin, thrust the black bag into his big
+pocket, and turned his attention to the terrified landlady and his
+brother officer of the wagon, who was just then mounting the stairs.
+
+"Case of plain coke jag," he explained, and burst into the noisy room,
+from which the two presently emerged with the shrieking and inebriated
+man who had been brought up-stairs but a short while before.
+
+In Wallingford's room that night, Blackie Daw was just starting for
+Boston when Harvey Willis, now off duty, came up with the little black
+bag, which he dropped upon the table, sitting down in one of the big
+chairs and laughing hugely.
+
+"Mr. Daw, shake hands with Mr. Willis, a friend of mine from
+Filmore," said Wallingford. "Order a drink, Daw."
+
+As he spoke, he untied the bag, and, taking its lower corners, sifted
+the mixture of cards and greenbacks upon the table. Daw, in the act of
+shaking hands, stopped with gaping jaws.
+
+"What in Moses is that?" he asked.
+
+"Merely a little contribution from your Broadway friends," Wallingford
+explained with a chuckle. "Harvey, what do I owe out of this?"
+
+"Well," said Harvey, sitting down again and naming over the cast of
+characters on his fingers, "there's seven dollars for the room, and
+the tenner I gave Sawyer to go down on Park Row and hunt up a coke
+jag. Sawyer gets fifty. We ought to slip a twenty to the wagon-man.
+Sawyer will have to pay about a ten-case note for broken furniture,
+and I suppose you'll want to pay this poor coke dip's fine. That's
+all, except me."
+
+"Ninety-seven dollars, besides the fine," said Wallingford, counting
+it up. "Suppose we say a hundred and fifty to cover all expenses, and
+about three hundred and fifty for you. How would that do?"
+
+"Fine!" agreed Harvey. "Stay right here and keep me busy at the
+price."
+
+"Not me," said Wallingford warmly. "I only did this because I was
+peevish. I don't like this kind of money. It may not be honest money.
+I don't know how Phelps and Banting and Teller got this money."
+
+Blackie Daw came solemnly over and shook hands with him.
+
+"Stay amongst our midst, J. Rufus," he pleaded. "We need an infusion
+of live ones on Broadway. Our best workers have grown jaded and
+effete, and our reputation is suffering. Stay, oh, stay!"
+
+"No," refused J. Rufus positively. "I don't want to have anything more
+to do with crooks!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+ IN WHICH J. RUFUS HEARS OF SOME EGYPTIANS
+ WORTH SPOILING
+
+
+It was in a spirit of considerable loneliness that Wallingford came
+back from seeing Blackie Daw to the midnight train, for he had grown
+to like Blackie very well indeed. Moreover, his friend from Georgia
+was gone, and quite disconsolate, for him, he stood in front of the
+hotel wondering about his next move. Fate sent him a cab, from which
+popped a miniature edition of the man from Georgia. The new-comer,
+who had not waited for the cab door to be opened for him, immediately
+offered to bet his driver the price of the fare that the horse
+would eat bananas. He was a small, clean, elderly gentleman, of
+silvery-white hair and mustache, who must have been near sixty, but
+who possessed, temporarily at least, the youth and spirits of thirty;
+and he was one of that sort of looking men to whom one instinctively
+gives a title.
+
+"Can't take a chance, Governor," said the driver, grinning. "I might
+as well go jump off the dock as go back to the stand without them four
+dollars. I'm in bad, anyhow."
+
+"I'll bet you the tip, then," offered the very-much-alive elderly
+gentleman, flourishing a five-dollar bill.
+
+"All right," agreed the driver, eying the money. "Nothing or two
+dollars."
+
+"No, you don't! Not with Silas Fox, you don't!" promptly disputed that
+gentleman. "First comes out of the dollar change two bits for bananas,
+and then the bet is nothing or a dollar and a half that your horse'll
+eat 'em. Why, any horse'll eat bananas," he added, turning suddenly to
+Wallingford. With the habit of shrewdness he paused for a thorough
+inspection of J. Rufus, whose bigness and good grooming and jovial
+pinkness of countenance were so satisfactory that Mr. Fox promptly
+made up his mind the young man could safely be counted as one of the
+pleasures of existence.
+
+"I'll bet _you_ this horse'll eat bananas," he offered.
+
+"I'm not acquainted with the horse," objected Wallingford, with no
+more than reasonable caution. "I don't even know its name. What do you
+want to bet?"
+
+"Anything from a drink to a hundred dollars."
+
+J. Rufus threw back his head and chuckled in a most infectious manner,
+his broad shoulders shaking and his big chest heaving.
+
+"I'll take you for the drink," he agreed.
+
+Two strapping big fellows in regulation khaki came striding past the
+hotel, and Mr. Fox immediately hailed them.
+
+"Here, you boys," he commanded, with a friendly assurance born of the
+feeling that to-night all men were brothers; "you fellows walk across
+the street there and get me a quarter's worth of real ripe bananas."
+
+The soldiers stopped, perplexed, but only for an instant. The driver
+of the cab was grinning, the door-man of the hotel was grinning, the
+prosperous young man by the curb was grinning, and the well-dined and
+wined elderly gentleman quite evidently expected nothing in this world
+but friendly complaisance.
+
+"All right, Senator," acquiesced the boys in khaki, themselves
+catching the grinning contagion; and quite cheerfully they accepted a
+quarter, wheeled abreast, marched over to the fruit stand, bought the
+ripest bananas on sale, wheeled, and marched back.
+
+Selecting the choicest one with great gravity and care, Mr. Silas Fox
+peeled it and prepared for the great test. The driver leaned forward
+interestedly; the two in khaki gathered close behind; the large young
+man chuckled as he watched; the horse poked forward his nose gingerly,
+then sniffed--then turned slowly away!
+
+Mr. Fox was shocked. He caught that horse gently by the opposite jaw,
+and drew the head toward him. This time the horse did not even sniff.
+It shook its head, and, being further urged, jerked away so decidedly
+that it drew its tormentor off the curb, and he would have fallen had
+not Wallingford caught him by the arm.
+
+"I win," declared the driver with relief, gathering up his lines.
+
+"Not yet," denied Mr. Fox, and stepping forward he put his arm around
+the horse's neck and tried to force the banana into its mouth.
+
+This time the horse was so vigorous in its objection that the man came
+near being trampled underfoot, and it was only on the unanimous vote
+of the big man and the two in khaki that he profanely gave up the
+attempt.
+
+"Not that I mind losing the bet," announced Mr. Fox in apology, "but
+I'm disappointed in the be damned horse. That horse loves bananas and
+I know it, but he's just stubborn. Here's your money," and he gave the
+driver his five-fifty; "and here's the rest of the bananas. When you
+get back to the barn you try that horse and see if he won't eat 'em,
+after he's cooled down and in his stall."
+
+"All right," laughed the driver, and started away.
+
+As he turned the corner he was peeling one of the bananas. The loser
+looked after the horse reluctantly, and sighed in finality.
+
+"Come on, young man, let's go get that drink," he said.
+
+Delighted to have found company of happy spirit, Wallingford promptly
+turned with the colonel into the hotel bar.
+
+"Can you beat it?" asked one big soldier of the other as both looked
+after the departing couple in pleased wonder.
+
+At about the same second the new combination was falling eagerly and
+vigorously into conversation upon twelve topics at once.
+
+"You can't do anything without you have a pull," was Silas Fox's
+fallacious theory of life, as summed up in the intimate friendship of
+the second bottle. "That's why I left New Jersey. I had a National
+Building and Loan Association organized down there that would have
+been a public benefactor and a private joy; in business less than six
+months, and already nine hundred honest working-men paying in their
+dollar and a quarter a week; eleven hundred and fifty a week for us to
+handle, and the amount growing every month."
+
+"That's a pretty good start," commented J. Rufus, considering the
+matter carefully as he eyed the stream of ascending bubbles in his
+hollow-stemmed glass. "No matter what business you're in, if you have
+a package of clean, new, fresh dollars every week to handle, some of
+it is bound to settle to the bottom; but there mustn't be too many to
+swallow the settlings."
+
+"Six of us on the inside," mused the other. "Doc Turner, who sells
+real estate only to people who can't pay for it; Ebenezer Squinch, a
+lawyer that makes a specialty of widows and orphans and damage claims;
+Tom Fester, who runs the nicest little chattel-mortgage company that
+ever collected a life income from a five-dollar bill; Andy Grout, who
+has been conducting a prosperous instalment business for ten years on
+the same old stock of furniture; and Jim Christmas, who came in from
+the farm ten years ago to become a barber, shaving nothing but notes."
+
+Young Wallingford sat lost in admiration.
+
+"What a lovely bunch of citizens to train a growing young dollar; to
+teach it to jump through hoops and lay down and roll over," he
+declared. "And I suppose you were in a similar line, Judge?" he
+ventured.
+
+"Nothing like it," denied the judge emphatically. "I was in a decent,
+respectable loan business. Collateral loans were my specialty."
+
+"I see," said J. Rufus, chuckling. "All mankind were not your
+brothers, exactly, but your brothers' children."
+
+"Making me the universal uncle, yes," admitted Mr. Fox, then he
+suddenly puffed up with pride in his achievements. "And I do say," he
+boasted, "that I could give any Jew cards and spades at the game and
+still beat him out on points. I reckon I invented big casino, little
+casino and the four aces in the pawn brokerage business. Let alone my
+gage of the least a man would take, I had it fixed so that they could
+slip into my place by the front door, from the drug-store on one side,
+from the junk-yard on the other, from the saloon across the alley in
+the rear, and down-stairs, from the hall leading to Doc Turner's
+office."
+
+Lost in twinkling-eyed admiration of his own cleverness he lapsed into
+silence, but J. Rufus, eager for information, aroused him.
+
+"But why did you blow the easy little new company?" he wanted to know.
+"I could understand it if you had been running a local building-loan
+company, for in that the only salaried officer is the secretary, who
+gets fifty cents a year, and the happy home-builders pile up double
+compound interest for the wise members who rent; but with a national
+company it's different. A national building-loan company's business is
+to collect money to juggle with, for the exclusive benefit of the
+officers."
+
+"You're a bright young man," said Mr. Fox admiringly. "But the
+business was such a cinch it began to get crowded, and so the
+lawmakers, who were mostly stock-holders in the three biggest
+companies, had a spasm of virtue, and passed such stringent laws for
+the protection of poor investors that no new company could do any
+business. We tried to buy a pull but it was no use; there wasn't pull
+enough to go round; so I'm going to retire and enjoy myself. This
+country's getting too corrupt to do business in," and Mr. Fox relapsed
+into sorrowful silence over the degeneracy of the times.
+
+When his sorrow had become grief--midway of another bottle--a house
+detective prevailed upon him to go to bed, leaving young Wallingford
+to loneliness and to thought--also to settle the bill. This, however,
+he did quite willingly. The evening had been worth much in an
+educational way, and, moreover, it had suggested vast, immediate
+possibilities. These possibilities might have remained vague and
+formless--mere food for idle musing--had it not been for one important
+circumstance: while the waiter was making change he picked some folded
+papers from the floor and laid them at Wallingford's hand. Opened,
+this packet of loose leaves proved to be a list of several hundred
+names and addresses. There could be no riddle whatever about this
+document; it was quite obviously a membership roster of the defunct
+building-loan association.
+
+"The judge ought to have a duplicate of this list; a single copy's so
+easy to lose," mused Wallingford with a grin; so, out of the goodness
+of his heart, he sat up in his room until very late indeed, copying
+those pages with great care. When he sent the original to Mr. Fox's
+room in the morning, however, he very carelessly omitted to send the
+duplicate, and, indeed, omitted to think of remedying the omission
+until after Mr. Fox had left the hotel for good.
+
+Oh, well, a list of that sort was a handy thing for anybody to have
+around. The names and addresses of nine hundred people naive enough to
+pay a dollar and a quarter a week to a concern of whose standing they
+knew absolutely nothing, was a really valuable curiosity indeed. It
+was pleasant to think upon, in a speculative way.
+
+Another inspiring thought was the vision of Doc Turner and Ebenezer
+Squinch and Tom Fester and Andy Grout and Jim Christmas, with plenty
+of money to invest in a dubious enterprise. It seemed to be a call to
+arms. It would be a noble and a commendable thing to spoil those
+Egyptians; to smite them hip and thigh!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+ INTRODUCING A NOVEL MEANS OF EATING CAKE AND
+ HAVING IT TOO
+
+
+Doc Turner and Ebenezer Squinch and Tom Fester, all doing business
+on the second floor of the old Turner building, were thrown into a
+fever of curiosity by the tall, healthy, jovial young man with the
+great breadth of white-waistcoated chest, who had rented the front
+suite of offices on their floor. His rooms he fitted up regardless
+of expense, and he immediately hired an office-boy, a secretary
+and two stenographers, all of whom were conspicuously idle. Doc
+Turner, who had a long, thin nose with a bluish tip, as if it had
+been case-tempered for boring purposes, was the first to scrape
+acquaintance with the jovial young gentleman, but was chagrined to
+find that though Mr. Wallingford was most democratic and easily
+approachable, still he was most evasive about his business. Nor
+could any of his office force be "pumped."
+
+"The People's Mutual Bond and Loan Company" was the name which a sign
+painter, after a few days, blocked out upon the glass doors, but the
+mere name was only a whet to the aggravated appetites of the other
+tenants. Turner and Fester and Squinch were in the latter's office,
+discussing the mystery with some trace of irritation, when the source
+of it walked in upon them.
+
+"I'm glad to find you all together," said young Wallingford breezily,
+coming at once to the point of his visit. "I understand that you
+gentlemen were once a part of the directorate of a national building
+and loan company which suspended business."
+
+Ebenezer Squinch, taking the chair by virtue of his being already
+seated with his long legs elevated upon his own desk, craned forward
+his head upon an absurdly slender neck, which much resembled that of
+a warty squash, placed the tips of his wrinkled fingers together and
+gazed across them at Wallingford quite judicially.
+
+"Suppose we were to admit that fact?" he queried, in non-committal
+habit.
+
+"I am informed that you had a membership of some nine hundred when you
+suspended business," Wallingford went on, "and among your effects you
+have doubtless retained a list of that membership."
+
+"Doubtless," assented Lawyer Squinch after a thoughtful pause,
+deciding that he might, at least partially, admit that much.
+
+"What will you take for that list, or a copy of it?" went on Mr.
+Wallingford.
+
+Mr. Turner, Mr. Squinch and Mr. Fester looked at one another in turn.
+In the mind of each gentleman there instantly sprang a conjecture, not
+as to the actual value of that list, but as to how much money young
+Wallingford had at his command. Both Mr. Fester and Mr. Turner sealing
+their mouths tightly, Mr. Fester straightly and Mr. Turner pursily,
+looked to Mr. Squinch for an adequate reply, knowing quite well that
+their former partner would do nothing ill-considered.
+
+"M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m," nasally hesitated Mr. Squinch after long
+cogitation; "this list, Mr. Wallingford, is very valuable indeed, and
+I am quite sure that none of us here would think of setting a price on
+it until we had called into consultation our other former directors,
+Mr. Grout and Mr. Christmas."
+
+"Let me know as soon as you can, gentlemen," said Mr. Wallingford. "I
+would like a price by to-morrow afternoon at two o'clock, at least."
+
+Another long pause.
+
+"I think," stated Mr. Squinch, as deliberately and as carefully as if
+he were announcing a supreme court decision--"I think that we may
+promise an answer by to-morrow."
+
+They were all silent, very silent, as Mr. Wallingford walked out, but
+the moment they heard his own door close behind him conjecture began.
+
+"I wonder how much money he's got," speculated fish-white Doc Turner,
+rubbing his claw-like hands softly together.
+
+"He's stopping at the Telford Hotel and occupies two of the best rooms
+in the house," said blocky Mr. Fester, he of the bone-hard countenance
+and the straight gash where his lips ought to be.
+
+"He handed me a hundred-dollar bill to take the change out of for the
+first month's rent in advance," supplemented Doc Turner, who was
+manager of the Turner block.
+
+"He wears very large diamonds, I notice," observed Squinch. "I
+imagine, gentlemen, that he might be willing to pay quite two thousand
+dollars."
+
+"He's young," assented Mr. Turner, warming his hands over the thought.
+
+"And reckless," added Mr. Fester, with a wooden appreciation that was
+his nearest approach to a smile.
+
+Their estimate of the youth and recklessness of the lamb-like Mr.
+Wallingford was such that they mutually paused to muse upon it, though
+not at all unpleasantly.
+
+"Suppose that we say twenty-five hundred," resumed Mr. Squinch. "That
+will give each of the five of us five hundred dollars apiece. At that
+rate I'd venture to speak for both Grout and Christmas."
+
+"We three have a majority vote," suggested Doc Turner. "However, it's
+easy enough to see them."
+
+"Need we do so?" inquired Mr. Squinch, in slow thought. "We might--"
+and then he paused, struck by a sudden idea, and added hastily: "Oh,
+of course, we'll have to give them a voice in the matter. I'll see
+them to-night."
+
+"All right," assented Doc Turner, rising with alacrity and looking at
+his watch. "By the way, I have to see a man. I pretty near overlooked
+it."
+
+"That reminds me," said Mr. Fester, heaving himself up ponderously and
+putting on the hat which should have been square, "I have to
+foreclose a mortgage this afternoon."
+
+Mr. Squinch also rose. It had occurred to all three of them
+simultaneously to go privately to the two remaining members and buy
+out their interest in the list for the least possible money.
+
+J. Rufus found the full board in session, however, when he walked into
+Mr. Squinch's office on the following afternoon. Mr. Grout was a
+loose-skinned man of endless down-drooping lines, the corners of his
+eyelids running down past his cheek-bones, the corners of his nose
+running down past his mouth, the corners of his mouth running down
+past his chin. Mr. Christmas had over-long, rusty-gray hair, bulbous
+red ears, and an appalling outburst of scarlet veins netted upon
+his copper-red countenance. Notwithstanding their vast physical
+differences, however, Wallingford reflected that he had never seen
+five men who, after all, looked more alike. And why not, since they
+were all of one mind?
+
+By way of illustrating the point, Mr. Grout and Mr. Christmas, finding
+that the list in question had some value, and knowing well their
+former partners, had steadfastly refused to sell, and the five of
+them, meeting upon the common ground of self-interest, had agreed to
+one thing--that they would ask five thousand dollars for the list, and
+take what they could get.
+
+When the price was named to him, Mr. Wallingford merely chuckled, and
+observed, as he turned toward the door:
+
+"You are mistaken, gentlemen. I did not want to buy out your
+individual businesses. I am willing to give you one thousand dollars
+in stock of my company, which will be two shares each."
+
+The gentlemen could not think of that. It was preposterous. They would
+not consider any other than a cash offer to begin with, nor less than
+twenty-five hundred to end with.
+
+"Very well, then," said J. Rufus; "I can do without your list," which
+was no matter for wonder, since he had a duplicate of it in his desk
+at that very moment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Henry Smalzer was the first man on that defunct building and loan
+company list, and him Wallingford went to see. He found Mr. Smalzer in
+a little shoe repair shop, with a shoe upturned on his knee and held
+firmly in place by a strap passing under his foot. Mr. Smalzer had
+centrifugal whiskers, and long habit of looking up without rising from
+his work had given his eyes a coldly suspicious look. Moreover,
+socialistic argument, in red type, was hung violently upon the walls,
+and Mr. Wallingford, being a close student of the psychological moment
+and man, merely had a loose shoe-button tightened.
+
+The next man on the list was a barber with his hair parted in the
+middle and hand-curled in front. In the shop was no literature but the
+Police Gazette, and in the showcase were six brands of stogies and one
+brand of five-cent cigars. Here Mr. Wallingford merely purchased a
+shave, reflecting that he could put a good germicide on his face when
+he returned to the hotel.
+
+He began to grow impatient when he found that his third man kept a
+haberdashery, but, nevertheless, he went in. A clerk of the pale-eyed,
+lavender-tie type was gracing the front counter, but in the rear, at a
+little standing desk behind a neat railing, stood one who was
+unmistakably the proprietor, though he wore a derby hat cocked on his
+head and a big cigar cocked in the opposite corner of his mouth.
+Tossed on the back part of the desk was a race-track badge, and the
+man was studying a form sheet!
+
+"Mr. Merrill, I believe," said Wallingford confidently approaching
+that gentleman and carelessly laying his left hand--the one with the
+three-carat diamond upon the third finger--negligently upon the rail.
+
+Mr. Merrill's keen, dark-gray eyes rested first upon that three-carat
+ring, then upon the three-carat stone in Mr. Wallingford's carmine
+cravat, then upon Mr. Wallingford's jovial countenance with the
+multiplicity of smile wrinkles about the eyes, and Mr. Merrill himself
+smiled involuntarily.
+
+"The same," he admitted.
+
+"Mr. Merrill," propounded Wallingford, "how would you like to borrow
+from ten dollars to five thousand, for four years, without interest
+and without security?"
+
+Mr. Merrill's eyes narrowed, and the flesh upon his face became quite
+firm.
+
+"Not if I have to pay money for it," he announced, and the
+conversation would have ended right there had it not been for
+Wallingford's engaging personality, a personality so large and
+comprehensive that it made Mr. Merrill reflect that, though this
+jovial stranger was undoubtedly engineering a "skin game," he was
+quite evidently "no piker," and was, therefore, entitled to courteous
+consideration.
+
+"What you have to pay won't break you," said Wallingford, laughing,
+and presented a neatly engraved card conveying merely the name of
+The People's Mutual Bond and Loan Company, the fact that it was
+incorporated for a hundred thousand dollars, and that the capital was
+all paid in. "A loan bond," added Mr. Wallingford, "costs you one
+dollar, and the payments thereafter are a dollar and a quarter a
+week."
+
+Mr. Merrill nodded as he looked at the card.
+
+"I see," said he. "It's one of those pleasant little games, I suppose,
+where the first man in gets the money of the next dozen, and the last
+five thousand hold the bag."
+
+"I knew you'd guess wrong," said Wallingford cheerfully. "The plan's
+entirely different. Everybody gets a chance. With every payment you
+sign a loan application and your receipt is numbered, giving you four
+numbered receipts in the month. Every month one-fourth of the loan
+fund is taken out for a grand annual distribution, and the balance is
+distributed in monthly loans."
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Merrill, the firmness of his facial muscles
+relaxing and the cold look in his eyes softening. "A lottery? Now I'm
+listening."
+
+"Well," replied Wallingford, smiling, "we can't call it that, you
+know."
+
+"I'll take a chance," said Mr. Merrill.
+
+Mr. Wallingford, with rare wisdom, promptly stopped argument and
+produced a beautifully printed "bond" from his pocket, which he made
+out in Mr. Merrill's name.
+
+"I might add," said J. Rufus, after having taken another careful
+inspection of Mr. Merrill, "that you win the first prize, payable in
+the shape of food and drink. I'd like to have you take dinner with me
+at the hotel this evening."
+
+Mr. Merrill, from force of habit, looked at his watch, then looked at
+Mr. Wallingford speculatively.
+
+"Don't mind if I do," said he, quite well satisfied that the dinner
+would be pleasant.
+
+In his own carpenter-shop Wallingford found Mr. Albert Wright at a
+foot-power circular-saw, with his hair and his eyebrows and his
+mustache full of the same fine, white wood dust that covered his
+overalls and jumper; and up over the saw, against the wall, was tacked
+the time-yellowed placard of a long-since-eaten strawberry festival.
+With his eyes and his mind upon this placard, Mr. Wallingford
+explained his new boon to humanity: the great opportunity for a
+four-year loan, without interest or security, of from ten dollars to
+five thousand.
+
+"But this is nothing more nor less than a lottery, under another
+name," objected Mr. Wright, poising an accusing finger, his eyes, too,
+unconsciously straying to the strawberry festival placard.
+
+"Not a bit of it," denied Wallingford, shocked beyond measure. "It is
+merely a mutual benefit association, where a large number of people
+pool their small sums of money to make successive large ones. For
+instance, suppose that a hundred of you should band together to put in
+one dollar a week, the entire hundred dollars to go to a different
+member each week? Each one would be merely saving up a hundred
+dollars, but, in place of every one of the entire hundred of you
+having to wait a hundred weeks to save his hundred dollars, one of you
+would be saving it in one week, while the longest man in would only
+have to pay the hundred weeks. It is merely a device, Mr. Wright, for
+concentrating the savings of a large number of people."
+
+Mr. Wright was forcibly impressed with Wallingford's illustration,
+but, being a very bright man, he put that waving, argumentative
+finger immediately upon a flaw.
+
+"Half of that hundred people would not stay through to the end, and
+somebody would get left," he objected, well pleased with himself.
+
+"Precisely," agreed Mr. Wallingford. "That is just what our company
+obviates. Every man who drops out helps the man who stays in, by not
+having any claim upon the redemption fund. The redemption fund saves
+us from being a lottery. When you have paid in two hundred and fifty
+dollars your bond matures and you get your money back."
+
+"Out of--" hesitated Mr. Wright, greatly perplexed.
+
+"The redemption fund. It is supplied from returned loans."
+
+Again the bright Mr. Wright saw a radical objection.
+
+"Half of those people would not pay back their loans," said he.
+
+"We figure that a certain number would not pay," admitted Wallingford,
+"but there would be a larger proportion than you think who would. For
+instance, you would pay back your loan at the end of four years,
+wouldn't you, Mr. Wright?"
+
+Mr. Wright was hastily sure of it, though he became thoughtful
+immediately thereafter.
+
+"So would a large majority of the others," Wallingford went on.
+"Honesty is more prevalent than you would imagine, sir. However, all
+our losses from this source will be made up by lapsation.
+_Lapsation!_"
+
+Mr. Wallingford laid emphatic stress upon this vital principle and
+fixed Mr. Wright's mild blue eyes with his own glittering ones.
+
+"A man who drops a payment on his bond gets nothing back--that is a
+part of his contract--and the steady investor reaps the benefit, as he
+should. Suppose you hold bond number ten; suppose at the time of
+maturity, bonds number three, five, six, eight and nine have lapsed,
+after having paid in from one-fourth to three-fourths of their money;
+that leaves only bonds one, two, four, seven and ten to be paid from
+the redemption fund. I don't suppose you understand how large a
+percentage of lapsation there is. Let me show you."
+
+From his pocket Mr. Wallingford produced a little red book, showing
+how in industrial and fraternal insurance the percentage of lapsation
+amounts to a staggering percentage, thus reducing by forfeited
+capital the cost of insurance in those organizations.
+
+"So you see, Mr. Wright," concluded Wallingford, snapping shut the
+book and putting it in his pocket, "this, in the end, is only a
+splendid device for saving money and for using it while you are saving
+it."
+
+On this ground, after much persuasion, he sold a bond to the careful
+Mr. Wright, and quit work for the day, well satisfied with his two
+dollars' commission. At a fifteen-dollar dinner that evening Mr.
+Merrill found him a good fellow, and, being interested not only in
+Wallingford's "lottery" but in Wallingford himself, gave him the names
+of a dozen likely members. Later he even went so far as to see some of
+them himself on behalf of the company.
+
+Two days after that Mr. Wallingford called again on his careful
+carpenter, and from that gentleman secured a personal recommendation
+to a few friends of Mr. Wright's particular kind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+ WHEREIN BLACKIE DAW PLAYS A BRIEF CHARACTER
+ BIT
+
+
+Andy Grout came into Doc Turner's office in a troubled mood, every
+down-drooping line in his acid countenance absolutely vertical.
+
+"We've made a mistake," he squeaked. "This young Wallingford is a
+hustler, and he's doing some canvassing himself. In the past week he's
+taken at least forty members for his loan company, and every man Jack
+of them are old members of ours."
+
+Doc Turner began rubbing his frosted hands together at a furious rate.
+
+"Squinch has sold us out!" he charged. "He's let Wallingford copy that
+list on the sly!"
+
+"No, I don't think so," said Grout, more lugubrious than ever. "I made
+some inquiries. You know, a lot of these fellows are customers of
+mine, and I find that he just happened to land on some of them in the
+first place. One recommends him to the others, just as we got them.
+If we don't sell him that list right away he won't need it."
+
+Together they went to Squinch and explained the matter, very much to
+that gentleman's discomfiture and even agitation.
+
+"What's his plan of operation, anyhow?" complained Squinch.
+
+"I don't understand it," returned Andy. "I found out this much,
+though: the members all expect to get rich as soon as the company
+starts operating."
+
+Mr. Squinch pounded his long finger-tips together for some time while
+he pondered the matter.
+
+"It might be worth while to have a share or two of stock in his
+company, merely to find out his complete plan," he sagely concluded.
+"If he's getting members that easy it's quite evident there is some
+good money to be made on the inside."
+
+This was the unanimous opinion of the entire five members of the board
+of directors, and as each member was in positive pain on the subject
+of "good money on the inside," they called a meeting that very
+afternoon in Mr. Squinch's office, inviting Mr. Wallingford to attend,
+which he did with inward alacrity but outward indifference.
+
+"Mr. Wallingford," said Mr. Squinch, "we have about decided to accept
+your offer for our list, but before doing so we will have to ask you
+to explain to us the organization of your company."
+
+"Very simple," Wallingford told them cheerfully. "It's incorporated
+for a hundred thousand dollars; a thousand shares of a hundred dollars
+each."
+
+"All paid in?" Mr. Squinch wanted to know.
+
+"All paid in," replied Mr. Wallingford calmly.
+
+"Indeed!" commented Mr. Squinch. "Who owns the stock?"
+
+"My four office assistants own one share each and I own the balance."
+
+A smile pervaded the faces of all but one of the members of the board
+of directors of the defunct National Building and Loan Association.
+Even Tom Fester's immovable countenance presented a curiously strained
+appearance. Strange as it may seem, the dummy-director idea was no
+novelty in New Jersey.
+
+"I take it, then, that the paid-in capitalization of the company is
+not represented in actual cash," said Mr. Squinch.
+
+"No," admitted Wallingford cheerfully. "As a matter of fact, at our
+first meeting the directors paid me ninety-five thousand dollars for
+my plan of operation."
+
+Again broad smiles illuminated the faces of the four, and this time
+Tom Fester actually accomplished a smile himself, though the graining
+might be eternally warped.
+
+"Then you started in business," sagely deduced Mr. Squinch, with the
+joined finger-tip attitude of a triumphant cross-examiner, "having but
+a total cash capitalization of five thousand dollars."
+
+"Exactly," admitted Wallingford, chuckling. There was no reservation
+whatever about Mr. Wallingford. He seemed to regard the matter as a
+very fair joke.
+
+"You are a very bright young man," Mr. Squinch complimented him, and
+that opinion was reflected in the faces of the others. "And what is
+your plan of loans, Mr. Wallingford?"
+
+"Also very simple," replied the bright young man. "The members are in
+loan groups, corresponding to the lodges of secret societies, and, in
+fact, their meetings are secret meetings. Each member pays in a dollar
+and a quarter a week, and the quarter goes into the expense fund."
+
+The five individually and collectively nodded their heads.
+
+"Expense fund," interpolated Doc Turner, his blue-tipped nose
+wrinkling with the enjoyment transmitted from his whetting palms,
+"meaning yourself."
+
+"Exactly," agreed Wallingford. "The dollar per week goes into the loan
+fund, but at the start there will be no loans made until there is a
+thousand dollars in the fund. Ten per cent. of this will be taken out
+for loan investigations and the payment of loan officers."
+
+"Meaning, again, yourself," squeaked Andy Grout, his vertical lines
+making obtuse bends.
+
+"Exactly," again agreed Wallingford. "Twenty-five per cent. goes to
+the grand annual loan, and the balance will be distributed in loans as
+follows: One loan of two hundred and fifty dollars, one loan of one
+hundred, one of fifty, four of twenty-five and fifteen of ten dollars
+each. These loans will be granted without other security than an
+unindorsed note of hand, payable in four years, without interest, and
+the loans will be made at the discretion of the loan committee,
+meeting in secret session."
+
+Mr. Squinch drew a long breath.
+
+"A lottery!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Hush!" said J. Rufus, chuckling. "Impossible. Every man gets his
+money back. Each member takes out a bond which matures in about four
+years, if he keeps up his steady payments of a dollar and a quarter a
+week without lapsation beyond four weeks, which four weeks may be made
+up on additional payment of a fine of twenty-five cents for each
+delinquent week, all fines, of course, going into the expense fund."
+
+Doc Turner's palms were by this time quite red from the friction.
+
+"And how, may I ask, are these bonds to be redeemed?" asked Mr.
+Squinch severely.
+
+"In their numbered order," announced Mr. Wallingford calmly, "from
+returned loans. When bond number one, for instance, is fully
+paid up, its face value will be two hundred and fifty dollars. If
+there is two hundred and fifty dollars in the redemption fund at that
+time--which the company, upon the face of the bonds, definitely
+refuses to guarantee, not being responsible for the honesty of its
+bond-holders--bond number one gets paid; if not, bond number one waits
+until sufficient money has been returned to the fund, and number
+two--or number five, say, if two, three and four have lapsed--waits
+its redemption until number one has been paid."
+
+A long and simultaneous sigh from five breasts attested the
+appreciation of his auditors for Mr. Wallingford's beautiful plan of
+operation.
+
+"No," announced Mr. Squinch, placing his finger-tips ecstatically
+together, "your plan is not a lottery."
+
+"Not by any means," agreed Doc Turner, rubbing his palms.
+
+Jim Christmas, who never committed himself orally if he could help it,
+now chuckled thickly in his throat, and the scarlet network upon his
+face turned crimson.
+
+"I think, Mr. Wallingford," said Mr. Squinch, "I think that we will
+accept your offer of two shares of stock each for our list."
+
+Mr. Wallingford, having succeeded in giving these gentlemen a grasping
+personal interest in his profits, diplomatically withheld his smile
+for a private moment, and, turning over to each of the five gentlemen
+two shares of his own stock in the company, accepted the list.
+Afterward, in entering the item in his books, he purchased for the
+company, from himself, ten shares of stock for one thousand dollars,
+paying himself the cash, and charged the issue of stock to the expense
+fund. Then he sat back and waited for the next move.
+
+It could not but strike such closely calculating gentlemen as the new
+members that here was a concern in which they ought to have more than
+a paltry two shares each of stock. Each gentleman, exercising his
+rights as a stock-holder, had insisted on poring carefully over the
+constitution and by-laws, the charter, the "bonds," and all the other
+forms and papers. Each, again in his capacity of stock-holder, had
+kept careful track of the progress of the business, of the agents that
+were presently put out, and of the long list of names rapidly piling
+up in the card-index; and each made hints to J. Rufus about the
+purchase of additional stock, becoming regretful, however, when they
+found that the shares were held strictly at par.
+
+In this triumphant period Wallingford was aggravatingly jovial, even
+exasperating, in the crowing tone he took.
+
+"How are we getting along? Fine!" he declared to each stock-holder in
+turn. "Inside of six months we'll have a membership of ten thousand!"
+And they were forced to believe him.
+
+Probably none of the ex-members of the defunct loan association was so
+annoyed over the condition of affairs as Ebenezer Squinch, nor so
+nervously interested.
+
+"I thought you intended to begin collecting your weekly payments when
+you had two hundred and fifty members," he protested to Wallingford,
+"but you have close to five hundred now."
+
+"That's just the point," explained Wallingford. "I'm doing so much
+better than I thought that I don't intend to start the collections
+until I have a full thousand, which will let me have four thousand in
+the very first loan fund, making two hundred and fifty a week to the
+expense fund and a hundred a week for the loan committee, besides one
+thousand dollars toward the grand annual distribution. That will give
+me twenty-six hundred to be divided in one loan of a thousand, one of
+five hundred, one of two hundred and fifty, two of a hundred, four of
+fifty, ten of twenty-five, and twenty of ten dollars each; a grand
+distribution of thirty-nine loans in all. That keeps it from being
+a piker bet; and think what the first distribution and every
+distribution will do toward getting future membership! And they'll
+grow larger every month. I don't think it'll take me all that six
+months to get my ten thousand members."
+
+Mr. Squinch, over his tightly pressed finger-tips, did a little rapid
+figuring. A membership of ten thousand would make a total income for
+the office, counting expense fund and loan committee fund, of three
+thousand five hundred per week, steadily, week in and week out, with
+endless possibilities of increase.
+
+"And what did you say you would take for a half interest?" he asked.
+
+"I didn't say," returned Wallingford, chuckling, "because I wouldn't
+sell a half interest under any consideration. I don't mind confessing
+to you, though, that I do need some money at once, so much so that I
+would part with four hundred and ninety-nine shares, right now, and
+for spot cash, for a lump sum of twenty-five thousand dollars."
+
+"Bound to keep control himself," Mr. Squinch reported to his
+_confrères_, after having reluctantly confessed to himself that he
+could not take care of the proposition alone. "I don't blame him so
+much, either, for he's got a vast money-maker."
+
+"Money without end," complained Andy Grout, his mouth stretching
+sourly down to the shape of a narrow croquet wicket; "and the longer
+we stay out of this thing the more money we're losing. It's better
+than any building-loan."
+
+There was a curious hesitation in Andy Grout's voice as he spoke of
+the building-loan, for he had been heartbroken that they had been
+compelled to give up this lucrative business, and he was not over it
+yet.
+
+Doc Turner rubbed his perpetually lifeless hands together quite
+slowly.
+
+"I don't know whether we're losing money or not," he interjected.
+"There is no question but that Wallingford will make it, but I suppose
+you know why he won't sell a half interest."
+
+"So he won't lose control," said Squinch, impatient that of so obvious
+a fact any explanation should be required.
+
+"But why does he want to keep control?" persisted Doc Turner. "Why, so
+he can vote himself a big salary as manager. No matter how much he
+made we'd get practically no dividends."
+
+It was shrewd Andy Grout whose high squeak broke the long silence
+following this palpable fact.
+
+"It seems to me we're a lot of plumb idiots, anyhow," he shrilled. "He
+wants twenty-five thousand for less than fifty per cent. of the
+stock. That's five thousand apiece for us. I move we put in the five
+thousand dollars apiece, but start a company of our own."
+
+Mr. Grout's suggestion was a revelation which saved Jim Christmas from
+bursting one of his red veins in baffled cupidity. Negotiations with
+Mr. Wallingford for any part of his stock suddenly ceased. Instead,
+within a very short time there appeared upon the door of the only
+vacant office left in the Turner block, the sign: "The People's
+Coöperative Bond and Loan Company."
+
+Mr. Wallingford did not seem to be in the slightest degree put out by
+the competition. In fact, he was most friendly with the new concern,
+and offered Doc Turner, who had been nominated manager of the new
+company, his assistance in arranging his card-index system, or upon
+any other point upon which he might need help.
+
+"There's room enough for all of us," he said cheerfully. "Of course, I
+think you fellows ought to pay me a royalty for using my plan, but
+there's no way for me to compel you to do it. There's one thing we
+ought to do, however, and that is to take steps to prevent a lot of
+other companies from jumping in and spoiling our field. I think I'll
+get right after that myself. I have a pretty strong pull in the state
+department."
+
+They were holding this conversation three days after the sign went
+up, and Mr. Squinch, entering the office briskly to report a new
+agent that he had secured, frowned at finding Mr. Wallingford
+there. Business was business with Mr. Squinch, and social calls
+should be discouraged. Before he could frame his objection in words,
+however, another man entered the office, a stranger, a black-haired,
+black-eyed, black-mustached young man, of quite ministerial appearance
+indeed, as to mere clothing, who introduced himself to Doc Turner as
+one Mr. Clifford, and laid down before that gentleman a neatly folded
+parchment, at the same time displaying a beautiful little gold-plated
+badge.
+
+"I am the state inspector of corporations," said Mr. Clifford, "and
+this paper contains my credentials. I have come to inspect your plan
+of operation, and to examine all printed forms, books and minutes."
+
+Mr. Wallingford rose to go, but a very natural curiosity apparently
+led him to remain standing, while Doc Turner, with a troubled glance
+at Ebenezer Squinch, rose to collect samples of all the company's
+printed forms for the representative of the law.
+
+Mr. Wallingford sat down again.
+
+"I might just as well stay," he observed to Doc Turner, "because my
+interests are the same as yours."
+
+Mr. Clifford looked up at him with a very sharp glance, as both Mr.
+Turner and Mr. Squinch took note. At once, however, Mr. Clifford went
+to work. In a remarkably short space of time, seeming, indeed, to have
+known just where to look for the flaw, he pointed out a phrase in the
+"bond," the phrase pertaining to the plan of redemption.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he gravely, "I am very sorry to say that the state
+department can not permit you to do business with this bond, and that
+any attempt to do so will result in the revoking of your charter. I
+note that this is bond number one, and assume from this fact that you
+have not yet sold any of them. You are very lucky indeed not to have
+done so."
+
+A total paralysis settled upon Messrs. Turner and Squinch, a paralysis
+which was only relieved by the counter-irritant of Wallingford's
+presence. To him Mr. Squinch made his first observation, and it was
+almost with a snarl.
+
+"Seems to me this rather puts a spoke in your wheel, too,
+Wallingford," he observed.
+
+"Is this Mr. Wallingford?" asked Mr. Clifford, suddenly rising with a
+cordial smile. "I am very glad indeed to meet you, Mr. Wallingford,"
+he said as he shook hands with that gentleman. "They told me about you
+at the state department. As soon as I've finished here I'll drop in to
+look at your papers, just as a matter of form, you know."
+
+"If you refuse to let us operate," interposed Mr. Squinch in his most
+severely legal tone, "you will be compelled to refuse Mr. Wallingford
+permission to operate also!"
+
+"I am not so sure about that," replied Mr. Clifford suavely. "The
+slightest variation in forms of this sort can sometimes make a very
+great difference, and I have no doubt that I shall find such a
+divergence; no doubt whatever! By the way, Wallingford," he said,
+turning again to that highly pleased gentleman, "Jerrold sent his
+respects to you. He was telling me a good story about you that I'll
+have to go over with you by and by. I want you to take dinner with me
+to-night, anyhow."
+
+[Illustration: "I shall be very much pleased," said Wallingford]
+
+Jerrold was the state auditor.
+
+"I shall be very much pleased," said Wallingford. "I'll just drop into
+the office and get my papers laid out for you."
+
+"All right," agreed Mr. Clifford carelessly. "I don't want to spend
+much time over them."
+
+Other fatal flaws Mr. Clifford found in the Turner and Company plan of
+operation, and when he left the office of The People's Coöperative
+Bond and Loan Company, the gentlemen present representing that concern
+felt dismally sure that their doom was sealed.
+
+"We're up against a pull again," said Doc Turner despondently. "It's
+the building-loan company experience all over again. You can't do
+anything any more in this country without a pull."
+
+"And it won't do any good for us to go up to Trenton and try to get
+one," concluded Mr. Squinch with equal despondency. "We tried that
+with the building-loan company and failed."
+
+In the office of The People's Mutual Bond and Loan Company there was
+no despondency whatever, for Mr. Wallingford and the dark-haired
+gentleman who had given his name as Mr. Clifford were shaking hands
+with much glee.
+
+"They fell for it like kids for a hoky-poky cart, Blackie," exulted
+Wallingford. "They're in there right this minute talking about the
+cash value of a pull. That was the real ready-money tip of all the
+information I got from old Colonel Fox."
+
+They had lit cigars and were still gleeful when a serious thought came
+to Mr. Clifford, erstwhile Mr. Daw.
+
+"This is a dangerous proposition, though, J. Rufus," he objected.
+"Suppose they actually take this matter up with the state department?
+Suppose they even go there?"
+
+"Well, they can't prove any connection between you and me, and you
+will be out of the road," said Wallingford. "I don't mind confessing
+that it's nearer an infraction of the law than I like, though, and
+hereafter I don't intend to come so close. It isn't necessary. But in
+this case there's nothing to fear. These lead-pipe artists are scared
+so stiff by their fall-down on the building-loan game that they'll
+take their medicine right here and now. They'll come to me before
+to-morrow night, now that I've got them, to collect their money in a
+wad in the new company. They might even start work to-night."
+
+He rose from the table in his private office and went to the door.
+
+"Oh, Billy!" he called.
+
+A sharp-looking young fellow with a pen behind his ear came from the
+other room.
+
+"Billy, here's a hundred dollars for you," said Wallingford.
+
+"Thank you," said Billy. "Who's to be thugged?"
+
+"Nobody," replied Wallingford, laughing. "It's just a good-will gift.
+By the way, if Doc Turner or any of that crowd back there makes any
+advances to you to buy your share of stock, sell it to them, and
+you're a rank sucker if you take less than two hundred for it. Also
+tell them that you can get three other shares from the office force at
+the same price."
+
+Billy, with great deliberation, took a pin from the lapel of his coat
+and pinned his hundred-dollar bill inside his inside vest pocket, then
+he winked prodigiously, and without another word withdrew.
+
+"He's a smart kid," said Blackie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+ WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT OF THE MANAGEMENT
+ OF HIS OWN COMPANY
+
+
+In the old game of "pick or poe" one boy held out a pin, concealed
+between his fingers, and the other boy guessed whether the head or
+point was toward him. It was a great study in psychology. The boy who
+held the pin had to do as much guessing as the other one. Having held
+forward heads the first time, should he reverse the pin the second
+time, or repeat heads? In so far as one of the two boys correctly
+gaged the elaborateness of the other's mental process he was winner.
+At the age when he played this game Wallingford usually had all the
+pins in school. Now he was out-guessing the Doc Turner crowd. He had
+foreseen every step in their mental process; he had foreseen that
+they would start an opposition company; he had foreseen their
+extravagant belief in his "pull," knowing what he did of their
+previous experience, and he had foreseen that now they would offer
+to buy up the stock held by his office force, so as to secure control,
+before opening fresh negotiations for the stock he had offered them.
+
+That very night Doc Turner called at the house of Billy Whipple to ask
+where he could get a good bird-dog, young Whipple being known as a
+gifted amateur in dogs. Billy, nothing loath, took Doc out to the
+kennel, where, by a fortunate coincidence, of which Mr. Turner had
+known nothing, of course, he happened to have a fine set of puppies.
+These Mr. Turner admired in a more or less perfunctory fashion.
+
+"By the way, Billy," he by and by inquired, "how do you like your
+position?"
+
+"Oh, so-so," replied Billy. "The job looks good to me. Wallingford has
+started a very successful business."
+
+"How much does he pay you?"
+
+Billy reflected. It was easy enough to let a lie slip off his tongue,
+but Turner had access to the books.
+
+"Twenty-five dollars a week," he said.
+
+"You owe a lot to Wallingford," observed Mr. Turner. "It's the best
+pay you ever drew."
+
+"Yes, it is pretty good," admitted Billy; "but I don't owe Wallingford
+any more than I owe myself."
+
+In the dark Mr. Turner slowly placed his palms together.
+
+"You're a bright boy," said Mr. Turner. "Billy, I don't like to see a
+stranger come in here and gobble up the community's money. It ought
+to stay in the hands of home folks. I'd like to get control of that
+business. If you'll sell me your share of stock I might be able to
+handle it, and if I can I'll advance your wages to thirty-five dollars
+a week."
+
+"You're a far pleasanter man than Wallingford," said Billy amiably.
+"You're a smarter man, a better man, a handsomer man! When do we start
+on that thirty-five?"
+
+"Very quickly, Billy, if you feel that way about it." And the friction
+of Mr. Turner's palms was perfectly audible. "Then I can have your
+share of stock?"
+
+"You most certainly can, and I'll guarantee to buy up three other
+shares in the office if you want them."
+
+"Good!" exclaimed Turner, not having expected to accomplish so much of
+his object so easily. "The minute you lay me down those four shares
+I'll hand you four hundred dollars."
+
+"Eight," Billy calmly corrected him. "Those shares are worth a hundred
+dollars apiece any place now. Mine's worth more than two hundred to
+me."
+
+"Nonsense," protested the other. "Tell you what I'll do, though. I'll
+pay you two hundred dollars for your share and a hundred dollars
+apiece for the others."
+
+"Two," insisted Billy. "We've talked it all over in the office, and
+we've agreed to pool our stock and stand out for two hundred apiece,
+if anybody wants it. As a matter of fact, I have all four shares in my
+possession at this moment," and he displayed the certificates, holding
+up his lantern so that Turner could see them.
+
+The sight of the actual stock, the three other shares which the astute
+Billy had secured on the promise of a hundred and fifty dollars per
+share immediately after Wallingford's pointer, clenched the business.
+
+It was scarcely as much a shock to Wallingford as the Turner crowd had
+expected it to be when those gentlemen, having purchased four hundred
+and ninety-nine shares of Wallingford's stock at his own price, sat
+in the new stock-holders' meeting, at the reorganization upon which
+they had insisted, with five hundred and three shares, and J. Rufus
+made but feeble protest when the five of them, voting themselves into
+the directorate, decided to put the founder of the company on an
+extremely meager salary as assistant manager, and Mr. Turner on a
+slightly larger salary as chief manager.
+
+"There's no use of saying anything," he concluded philosophically.
+"You gentlemen have played a very clever game and I lose; that's all
+there is to it."
+
+He thereupon took up the burden of the work and pushed through the
+matter of new memberships and of collections with a vigor and ability
+that could not but commend itself to his employers. The second week's
+collections were now coming in, and it was during the following week
+that a large hollow wheel with a handle and crank, mounted on an axle
+like a patent churn, was brought into the now vacated room of the
+defunct People's Coöperative Bond and Loan Company.
+
+"What's this thing for?" asked Wallingford, inspecting it curiously.
+
+"The drawing," whispered Doc Turner.
+
+"What drawing?"
+
+"The loans."
+
+"You don't mean to say that you're going to conduct this as a
+lottery?" protested Wallingford, shocked and even distressed.
+
+"Sh! Don't use that word," cautioned Turner. "Not even among
+ourselves. You might use it in the wrong place some time."
+
+"Why not use the word?" Wallingford indignantly wanted to know.
+"That's what you're preparing to do! I told you in the first place
+that this was not by any means to be considered as a lottery; that it
+was not to have any of the features of a lottery. Moreover, I shall
+not permit it to be conducted as a lottery!"
+
+Doc Turner leaned against the side of the big wooden wheel and stared
+at Wallingford in consternation.
+
+"What's the matter with you?" he demanded. "Have you gone crazy, or
+what?"
+
+"Sane enough that I don't intend to be connected with a lottery! I
+have conscientious scruples about it."
+
+"May I ask, then, how you propose to decide these so-called loans?"
+inquired Turner, with palm-rubbing agitation.
+
+"Examine the records of the men who have made application," explained
+Wallingford; "find out their respective reputations for honesty,
+reliability and prompt payment, and place the different loans,
+according to that information, in as many different towns as
+possible."
+
+Doc Turner gazed at him in scorn for a full minute.
+
+"You're a damned fool!" he declared. "Why, you yourself intended to
+conduct this as a secret society, and I had intended to have
+representatives from at least three of the lodges attend each
+drawing."
+
+To this Wallingford made no reply, and Turner, to ease his mind,
+locked the door on the lottery-wheel and went in to open the mail. It
+always soothed him to take money from envelopes. A great many of the
+letters pertaining to the business of the company were addressed to
+Wallingford in person, and Turner slit open all such letters as a
+matter of course. Half-way down the pile he opened one, addressed to
+Wallingford, which made him gasp and re-read. The letter read:
+
+     DEAR JIM:
+
+     They have found out your new name and where you are, and
+     unless you get out of town on the first train they'll
+     arrest you sure. I don't need to remind you that they don't
+     hold manslaughter as a light offense in Massachusetts.
+
+     Let me know your new name and address as soon as you have
+     got safely away.
+
+                         YOUR OLD PAL.
+
+Doc Turner's own fingers were trembling as he passed this missive to
+Wallingford, whose expectant eyes had been furtively fixed upon the
+pile of letters for some time.
+
+"Too bad, old man," said Turner, tremulously aghast. "Couldn't help
+reading it."
+
+"My God!" exclaimed Wallingford most dramatically. "It has come at
+last, just as I had settled down to lead a quiet, decent, respectable
+life, with every prospect in my favor!" He sprang up and looked at his
+watch. "I'll have to move on again!" he dismally declared; "and I
+suppose they'll chase me from one cover to another until they finally
+get me; but I'll never give up! Please see what's coming to me, Mr.
+Turner; you have the cash in the house to pay me, I know; and kindly
+get my stock certificates from the safe."
+
+Slowly and thoughtfully Turner took from the safe Wallingford's four
+hundred and ninety-seven shares of stock, in four certificates of a
+hundred shares each, one of fifty and one of forty-seven. Wallingford
+hurried them into an envelope, sitting down to write the address upon
+it.
+
+"What are you going to do with those?" asked Turner with a thoughtful
+frown.
+
+"Send them to my friend in Boston and have him sell them for what he
+can get," replied Wallingford with a sigh. "If the purchasers send any
+one here to find out about the business, you'll, of course, give them
+every facility for investigation."
+
+"To be sure; to be sure," returned Turner. "But, say--"
+
+He paused a moment, and Wallingford, in the act of writing a hasty
+note to go with the stock certificates, hesitated, his pen poised just
+above the paper.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"You'll probably have to sell those shares at a sacrifice,
+Wallingford."
+
+"I have no doubt," he admitted.
+
+Doc Turner's palms rubbed out a slow decision while Wallingford
+scratched away at his letter.
+
+"Um-m-m-m-m-m-m--I say!" began Turner gropingly. "Rather than have
+those shares fall into the hands of strangers we might possibly make
+you an offer for them ourselves. Wait till I see Squinch."
+
+He saw Squinch, he saw Tom Fester, he telephoned to Andy Grout, and
+the four of them gathered in solemn conclave. The consensus of the
+meeting was that if they could secure Wallingford's shares at a low
+enough figure it was a good thing. Not one man among them but had
+regretted deeply the necessity of sharing any portion of the earnings
+of the company with Wallingford, or with one another, for that matter.
+Moreover, new stock-holders might "raise a rumpus" about their methods
+of conducting the business, as Wallingford had started to do. Gravely
+they called Wallingford in.
+
+"Wallingford," said Mr. Squinch, showing in his very tone his
+disrespect for a criminal, "Mr. Turner has acquainted us with the fact
+that you are compelled to leave us, and though we already have about
+as large a burden as we can conveniently carry, we're willing to allow
+you five thousand dollars for your stock."
+
+"For four hundred and ninety-seven shares! Nearly fifty thousand
+dollars' worth!" gasped Wallingford, "and worth par!"
+
+"It is a debatable point," said Mr. Squinch, placing his finger-tips
+together, and speaking with cold severity, "as to whether that stock
+is worth par or not at the present moment. I should say that it is
+not, particularly the stock that _you_ hold."
+
+"Even at a sacrifice," insisted Wallingford, "my friend ought to be
+able to get fifty dollars a share for me."
+
+"You must remember, Mr. Wallingford," returned the severe voice, "that
+you are not so free to negotiate as you seemed to be an hour or so
+ago. In a word, you are a fugitive from justice, and I don't know,
+myself, but what our duty, anyhow, would be to give you up."
+
+Not one man there but would have done it if it had been to his
+advantage.
+
+"You wouldn't do that!" pleaded Wallingford, most piteously indeed.
+"Why, gentlemen, the mere fact that I am in life-and-death need of
+every cent I can get ought to make you more liberal with me;
+particularly in view of the fact that I made this business, that I
+built it up, and that all its profits that you are to reap are due to
+me. Why, at twenty thousand the stock would be a fine bargain."
+
+This they thoroughly believed--but business is business!
+
+"Utterly impossible," said Mr. Squinch.
+
+The slyly rubbing palms of Mr. Turner, the down-shot lines of Andy
+Grout's face, the compressed lips of Tom Fester, all affirmed Mr.
+Squinch's decided negative.
+
+"Give me fifteen," pleaded Wallingford. "Twelve--ten."
+
+They would not. To each of these proposals they shook emphatic heads.
+
+"Very well," said Wallingford, and quietly wrote an address on the
+envelope containing his certificates. He tossed the envelope on the
+postal scales, sealed it, took stamps from his drawer and pasted them
+on. "Then, gentlemen, good day."
+
+"Wait a minute," hastily protested Mr. Squinch. "Gentlemen, suppose we
+confer a minute."
+
+Heads bent together, they conferred.
+
+"We'll give you eight thousand dollars," said Squinch as a result of
+the conference. "We'll go right down and draw it out of the bank in
+cash and give it to you."
+
+There was not a trace of hesitation in Wallingford.
+
+"I've made my lowest offer," he said. "Ten thousand or I'll drop these
+in the mail box."
+
+They were quite certain that Wallingford meant business, as indeed he
+did. He had addressed the envelope to Blackie Daw and he was quite
+sure that he could make the shares worth at least ten thousand.
+
+Once more they conferred.
+
+"All right," agreed Mr. Squinch reluctantly. "We'll do it--out of
+charity."
+
+"I don't care what it's out of, so long as I get the money," said
+Wallingford.
+
+In New York, where Wallingford met Blackie Daw by appointment, the
+latter was eager to know the details.
+
+"The letter did the business, I suppose, eh, Wallingford?"
+
+"Fine and dandy," assented Wallingford. "A great piece of work, and
+timed to the hour. I saw the envelope in that batch of mail before I
+made my play."
+
+"Manslaughter!" shrieked Blackie by and by. "On the level, J. Rufus,
+did you ever kill anything bigger than a mosquito?"
+
+"I don't know. I think I made quite a sizable killing down in Doc
+Turner's little old town," he said complacently.
+
+"I don't think so," disputed Blackie thoughtfully. "I may be a
+cheese-head, but I don't see why you sold your stock, anyhow. Seems to
+me you had a good graft there. Why didn't you hold on to it? It was a
+money-maker."
+
+"No," denied Wallingford with decision. "It's an illegal business,
+Blackie, and I won't have anything to do with an illegal business. The
+first thing you know that lottery will be in trouble with the federal
+government, and I'm on record as never having conducted any part of it
+after it became a lottery. Another thing, in less than a year that
+bunch of crooks will be figuring on how to land the capital prize for
+themselves under cover. No, Blackie, a quick turn and legal safety for
+mine, every time. It pays better. Why, I cleaned up thirty thousand
+dollars net profit on this in three months! Isn't that good pay?"
+
+"It makes a crook look like a fool," admitted Blackie Daw.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+ BEAUTY PHILLIPS STEPS INTO THE SPOT-LIGHT FOR
+ HER GRAND SPECIALTY
+
+
+Of course Blackie got his "bit" out of the spoils and hurried away
+to pursue certain fortune-making plans of his own, while young
+Wallingford, stopping in New York, prepared as elaborately to spend
+one. It was some trouble at first to find the most expensive things in
+New York, but at last he located them in the race-track and in Beauty
+Phillips, the latter being the moderately talented but gorgeous "hit"
+of _The Pink Canary_; and the thoroughbreds and Beauty made a splendid
+combination, so perfect in their operations that one beautiful day
+Wallingford awoke to the fact that the time had almost arrived to go
+to work. At the moment he made this decision, the Beauty, as richly
+colored and as expressionless as a wax model, was sitting at his side
+in the grand-stand, with her eyes closed, jabbing a hole at random in
+the card of the fifth race.
+
+"Bologna!" exclaimed Wallingford, noting where the fateful pin-hole
+had appeared. "It's a nice comic-supplement name; but I'll go down to
+the ring and burn another hundred or so on him."
+
+The band broke into a lively air, and the newest sensation of
+Broadway, all in exquisite violet from nodding plume to silken hose,
+looked out over the sunlit course in calm rumination. Her companion,
+older but not too old, less handsome but not too ill-favored, less
+richly dressed but not too plainly, nudged her.
+
+"There goes your Money and Moonshine song again, dearie," she
+observed.
+
+Still calmly, as calmly as a digestive cow in pleasant shade, the star
+of _The Pink Canary_ replied:
+
+"Don't you see I'm trying not to hear it, mother?"
+
+The eyes of "Mrs. Phillips" narrowed a trifle, and sundry tiny but
+sharp lines, revealing much but concealing more, flashed upon her brow
+and were gone. J. Rufus glanced in perplexity at her as he had done a
+score of times, wondering at her self-repression, at her unrevealed
+depths of wisdom, at her clever acting of a most difficult rôle; for
+Beauty Phillips, being a wise young lady and having no convenient
+mother of her own, had hired one, and by this device was enabled to
+remain as placidly Platonic as a plate of ice-cream. Well, it was
+worth rich gifts merely to be seen in proprietorship of her at the
+supper places.
+
+Wallingford rose without enthusiasm.
+
+"Bologna won't win!" he announced with resigned conviction.
+
+"Sure not!" agreed Beauty Phillips. "Bologna will stop to think at the
+Barrier, and finish in the road of the next race."
+
+"Bologna has to win," Wallingford rejoined, disputing both her and
+himself. "There's only a little over a thousand left in your Uncle
+Jimmy's bank-roll."
+
+"And you had over forty thousand when Sammy Harrison introduced us,"
+said the Beauty with a sigh. "Honest, Pinky, somebody has sure put a
+poison curse on you. You're a grand little sport, but on the level,
+I'm afraid to trail around with you much longer. I'm afraid I'll lose
+my voice or break a leg."
+
+"Old pal," agreed J. Rufus, "the hex is sure on me, and if I don't
+walk around my chair real quick, the only way I'll get to see you will
+be to buy a gallery seat."
+
+"I was just going to talk with you about that, Jimmy," stated the
+Beauty seriously. "You've been a perfect gentleman in every respect,
+and I will say I never met a party that was freer with his coin; but
+I've got to look out for my future. I won't always be a hit, and I've
+got to pick out a good marrying proposition while the big bouquets
+grow with my name already on 'em. Of course, you know, I couldn't
+marry you, because nothing less than a million goes. If you only had
+the money now--"
+
+She looked up at him with a certain lazy admiration. He was
+tremendously big; and rather good-looking, too, she gaged, although
+the blue eyes that were set in his jovial big countenance were
+entirely too small.
+
+In reply to her unfinished sentence J. Rufus chuckled.
+
+"Don't you worry about that, little one," said he. "I only wear you on
+my arm for the same reason that I wear this Tungsten-light boulder in
+my necktie: just to show 'em I'm the little boy that can grab off the
+best there is in the market. Of course it'd be fine and dandy to win
+you for keeps, but I know where you bought your ticket for, long ago.
+You'll end by getting your millionaire. In six months he'll go dippy
+over some other woman, and then you'll get your alimony, which is not
+only a handy thing to have around the house, but proves that you're
+perfectly respectable."
+
+"You've got some good ideas, anyhow," she complimented him, and then
+she sighed. "The only trouble is, every time one lines up that I
+think'll do, I find he's got a wife hid away some place."
+
+"And it isn't set down in her lines to fix up alimony for some other
+woman," commented the pseudo Mrs. Phillips.
+
+A couple of men, one nattily dressed and with curly hair, and the
+other short and fat and wearing a flaming waistcoat, passed on their
+way down to the betting-shed and carelessly tipped their hats.
+
+"Do you know those two cheaps?" she inquired, eying their retreating
+backs with disfavor.
+
+Again Wallingford chuckled.
+
+"Know them!" he replied. "I should say I do! Green-Goods Harry Phelps
+and Badger Billy Banting? Why, they and their friends, Short-Card
+Larry Teller and Yap Pickins, framed up a stud poker game on me the
+first week I hit town, with the lovely idea of working a phoney pinch
+on me; but I got a real cop to hand them the triple cross, and took
+five thousand away from them so easy it was like taking four-o'clock
+milk from a doorstep."
+
+"I'm glad of it," she said, with as much trace of vindictiveness as
+her beauty specialist would have permitted. "They're an awful
+low-class crowd. They came over to my table one night in Shirley's,
+after I'd met them only once, and butted in on a rich gentleman friend
+of mine from Washington. They run up an awful bill on him and never
+offered even to buy cigars, and then when he was gone for a minute to
+pick out our wagon, they tried to get fresh with me right in front of
+mother. I'm glad somebody stung 'em."
+
+A very thick-set man, with an inordinately broad jaw and an
+indefinable air of blunt aggressiveness, came past them and nodded to
+J. Rufus with a grudging motion toward his shapeless slouch hat.
+
+"Who's that?" she asked.
+
+"Jake Block," he replied. "A big owner with so much money he could bed
+his horses in it, and an ingrowing grouch that has put a crimp in his
+information works. He's never been known to give out a tip since he
+was able to lisp 'mamma.' He eats nothing but _table d'hôte_ dinners
+so he won't have to tell the waiters what he likes."
+
+Jake Block, on some brief errand to the press box, returned just as J.
+Rufus was starting down to the betting-shed, and he stopped a moment.
+
+"How are you picking them to-day, Wallingford?" he asked
+perfunctorily, with his eye on Beauty Phillips.
+
+"Same way," confessed Wallingford. "I haven't cashed a ticket in
+the meeting. I have the kind of luck that would scale John D.
+Rockefeller's bank-roll down to the size of a dance-program lead
+pencil."
+
+"Well," said Jake philosophically, his eyes still on the Beauty,
+"sometimes they come bad for a long time, and then they come worse."
+
+At this bit of wisdom J. Rufus politely laughed, and the silvery voice
+of Beauty Phillips suddenly joined his own; whereupon J. Rufus, taking
+the hint, introduced Mr. Block to Miss Phillips and her mother. Mr.
+Block promptly sat down by them.
+
+"I've heard a lot about you," he began, "but I've not been around to
+see _The Pink Canary_ yet. I don't go to the theater much."
+
+"You must certainly see my second-act turn. I sure have got them
+going," the Beauty asserted modestly. "What do you like in this race,
+Mr. Block?"
+
+"I don't like anything," he replied almost gruffly. "I never bet
+outside of my own stable."
+
+"We're taking a small slice of Bologna," she informed him. "I suppose
+he's about the--the wurst of the race. Guess that's bad, eh? I made
+that one up all by myself, at that. I think I'll write a musical
+comedy next. But how do you like Bologna?" she hastily added, her own
+laugh freezing as she saw her feeble little joke passed by in
+perplexity.
+
+"You never can tell," he replied evasively. "You see, Miss Phillips, I
+never give out a tip. If you bet on it and it don't win you get sore
+against me. If I hand you a winner you'll tell two or three people
+that are likely to beat me to it and break the price before I can get
+my own money down."
+
+Beauty Phillips' wide eyes narrowed just a trifle.
+
+"I guess it's all the same," remarked J. Rufus resignedly. "If you
+have a hoodoo over you you'll lose anyhow. I've tried to pick 'em
+forty ways from the ace. I've played with the dope and against it and
+lost both ways. I've played hunches and coppered hunches, and lost
+both ways. I've played hot information straight and reverse, and lost
+both ways. I've nosed into the paddock and made a lifetime hit with
+stable boys, jockeys, trainers, clockers and even owners, but every
+time they handed me a sure one I got burned. Any horse I bet on turns
+into a crawfish."
+
+The saddling bell rang.
+
+"You'd better hurry if you want to get a bet on Sausage," admonished
+the beautiful one, and J. Rufus, excusing himself, made his way down
+to the betting-shed, where he was affectionately known as The Big
+Pink, not only on account of his complexion but on account of the huge
+carnation Beauty Phillips pinned on him each day.
+
+At the first book he handed up three one-hundred-dollar bills.
+
+"A century each way on Bologna," he directed.
+
+"Welcome to our city!" greeted the red-haired man on the stool, and
+then to the ticket writer: "Twelve hundred to a hundred, five hundred
+to a hundred, and two hundred to a hundred on Bologna for The Big
+Pink. Johnnie, you will now rub prices on Bologna and make him
+fifteen, eight and three; then run around and tell the other boys that
+The Big Pink's on Bologna, and it's a pipe for the books at any odds."
+
+Wallingford chuckled good-naturedly. In other days he would have
+called that bit of pleasantry by taking another hundred each way
+across, at the new odds, but now his funds were too low.
+
+"Some of these days, Sunset," he threatened the man on the stool,
+"I'll win a bet on you and you'll drop dead."
+
+"I'll die rich if your wad only holds out till then," returned Sunset,
+laughing.
+
+With but very little hope J. Rufus returned to the grand-stand, where
+royalty sat like a warm and drowsy garment upon Beauty Phillips; for
+Beauty was on the stage a queen, and outside of working-hours a
+princess. Jake Block was still there, and making himself agreeable to
+a degree that surprised even himself, and he was there yet when
+Bologna, true to form, came home contentedly following the field. He
+joined them again at the close of the sixth race, when Carnation, a
+horse which the Beauty had picked because of his name, was just nosed
+out of the money, and he walked with them down to the carriage gate.
+As Block seemed reluctant to leave, he was invited to ride into the
+city in the automobile J. Rufus had hired by the month, and accepted
+that invitation with alacrity. He also accepted their invitation to
+dinner, and during that meal he observed:
+
+"I think, Miss Phillips, I'll go around and see _The Pink Canary_
+to-night, and after the show I'd like to have you and your mother and
+Wallingford take supper with me, if you have no other engagement."
+
+"Sure," said Beauty Phillips, too eagerly for Wallingford's entire
+comfort; and so it was settled.
+
+Wallingford, although he had seen the show until it made him deathly
+weary, went along and sat with Block in a stage box. During one of the
+dull spots the horseman turned to his companion very suddenly.
+
+"This Beauty Phillips could carry an awful handicap and still take the
+Derby purse," he announced. "She beats any filly of her hands and age
+I ever saw on a card."
+
+"She certainly does," assented J. Rufus, suave without, but irritated
+within.
+
+"I see you training around with her all through the meet. Steady
+company, I guess."
+
+"Oh, we're very good friends; that's all," replied Wallingford with
+such nonchalance as he could muster.
+
+"Nothing in earnest, then?"
+
+"Not a thing."
+
+"Then I believe I will enter the handicap myself, that is if you don't
+think you can haul down the purse."
+
+"Go in and win," laughed J. Rufus, concealing his trace of
+self-humiliation. He had no especial interest in Beauty Phillips, but
+he did not exactly like to have her taken away from him. It was too
+much in evidence that he was a loser. However, he was distinctly "down
+and out" just now, for Beauty Phillips quite palpably exerted her
+fascinations in the direction of that box, and Jake Block was most
+obviously "hooked;" so much so that at supper he revealed his interest
+most unmistakably, and parted from them reluctantly at the curb,
+feeling silly but quite determined.
+
+Wallingford made no allusion to Miss Phillips' capture of the
+horseman, even after they had reached the flat, where he had gained
+the rare privilege of calling, and where the Beauty's "mother" always
+remained in the parlor with them, awake or asleep.
+
+Rather sheepishly, J. Rufus produced from his pocket a newspaper
+clipping of the following seductive advertisement, which he passed
+over to the Beauty:
+
+                                             BOSTON.
+
+     Yesterday we slipped across, for the benefit of our happy
+     New York and Brooklyn subscribers, that juicy watermelon,
+     _Breezy_, a ten to one shot and the play on this section of
+     hot dog was so strong it put a crimp in the bookies as deep
+     as the water jump. To-morrow we have another lallapalooza
+     at long odds that will waft under the wire and have the
+     blanket on about the time the field is kicking dust at the
+     barrier. This peacherino has been under cover throughout
+     the meeting, but to-morrow it will be ripe and you want to
+     get in on the killing.
+
+     Will wire you the name of this pippin for five dollars;
+     full service twenty dollars a week.
+
+                         NATIONAL CLOCKERS' ASSOCIATION.
+
+"I fell for this," he explained, after she had read it with a
+sarcastic smile; "poked a fi'muth in a letter cold, and let 'em have
+it."
+
+The Beautiful One regarded him with pity.
+
+"Honest, Pinky," she commented, "your soft spot's growing. If you
+don't watch out the specialists'll get you. Do you suppose that if
+these cheap touts had such hot info. as that, they'd peddle it out, in
+place of going down to the track and coming back with all the money in
+the world in their jeans?"
+
+"Sure not," said he patiently. "They don't know any more about it than
+the men who write the form sheets; but we've tried everything from
+stable-dope to dreaming numbers and can't get one of them to run for
+us. So I'm taking a chance that the National Strong Arm Association
+might shut their eyes in the dark and happen to pass me the right name
+without meaning it."
+
+"There's some sense to that," admitted the Beauty reflectively.
+"You'll get the first wire to-morrow morning, won't you? Just my luck.
+It's matinée day and I'd like to see you try it."
+
+"That's all right," said J. Rufus. "I'll have the money to show you as
+a surprise at dinner."
+
+The Beauty hesitated.
+
+"I--I'm engaged for dinner to-morrow," she stated, half reluctantly.
+
+He was silent a moment.
+
+"Block? That means supper, too."
+
+"Yes. You see, Jimmy, I've just got to give 'em all a try-out."
+
+"Of course," he admitted. "But he won't do. I'll bet you a box of
+gloves against a box of cigars."
+
+"I won't bet you," she replied, laughing. "I've got a hunch that I'd
+lose."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+ WHEREIN THE BROADWAY QUARTET EVENS UP AN
+ OLD SCORE
+
+
+At his hotel the next day, about noon, J. Rufus got the promised wire.
+It consisted of only one word: "Razzoo."
+
+Alone, J. Rufus went out to the track, and on the race in which Razzoo
+was entered at average odds of ten to one, he got down six hundred
+dollars, reluctantly holding back, for his hotel bill, three hundred
+dollars--all he had in the world. Then he shut his eyes, and with
+large self-contempt waited for Razzoo to finish by lamplight. To his
+immense surprise Razzoo won by two lengths, and with a contented
+chuckle he went around to the various books and collected his
+winnings, handing to each bookmaker derogatory remarks calculated to
+destroy the previous _entente cordiale_.
+
+On his way out, puffed with huge joy and sitting alone in the big
+automobile, he was hailed by a familiar voice.
+
+"Well, well, well! Our old friend, J. Rufus!" exclaimed Harry Phelps,
+he of the natty clothes and the curly hair.
+
+With Mr. Phelps were Larry Teller and Billy Banting and Yap Pickins.
+
+"Jump in," invited J. Rufus with a commendable spirit, forgiving them
+cheerfully for having lost money to him, and, despite the growl of
+protest from lean Short-Card Larry, they invaded the tonneau.
+
+"You must be hitting them up some, Wallingford," observed Mr. Phelps
+with a trace of envy. "I know they're not furnishing automobiles to
+losers these days."
+
+"Oh, I'm doing fairly well," replied Wallingford loftily. "I cleaned
+'em up for six thousand to-day."
+
+The envy on the part of the four was almost audible.
+
+"What did you play?" asked Badger Billy, with the eager post-mortem
+interest of a loser.
+
+"Only one horse in just one race," explained Wallingford. "Razzoo."
+
+"Razzoo!" snorted Short-Card Larry. "Was you in on that assassination?
+Why, that goat hasn't won a race since the day before Adam ate the
+apple, and the jockey he had on to-day couldn't put up a good ride on
+a street car. How did you happen to land on it?"
+
+Blandly Wallingford produced the telegram he had received that
+morning.
+
+"This wire," he condescendingly explained, "is from the National
+Clockers' Association of Boston, Massachusetts, United States of
+America, who are charitable enough to pass out long-shot winners, at
+the mere bag-o'-shells service-price of five dollars per day or twenty
+per week."
+
+They looked from the magic word "Razzoo" to the smiling face of J.
+Rufus more in sorrow than in anger.
+
+"And they happened to hand you a winner!" said the cadaverous Mr.
+Teller, folding the telegram dexterously with the long, lean fingers
+of one hand, and passing it back as if he hated to see it.
+
+"Winner is right," agreed J. Rufus. "I couldn't pick 'em any other
+way, and I took a chance on this game because it's just as good a
+system as going to a clairvoyant or running the cards."
+
+There was a short laugh from the raw-boned Mr. Pickins.
+
+"I don't suppose they'll ever do it again," he observed, "but I feel
+almost like taking a chance on it myself."
+
+"Go to it," advised J. Rufus heartily. "Go to it, and come home with
+something substantial in your pocket, like this," and most brazenly,
+even in the face of what he knew of them, young Wallingford flaunted
+before their very eyes an assorted package of orange-colored
+bank-bills, well calculated to excite discord in this company. "Lovely
+little package of documents," he said banteringly; "and I suppose you
+burglars are already figuring how you can chisel it away from me."
+
+They smiled wanly, and the smile of Larry Teller showed his teeth.
+
+"No man ever pets a hornet but once," said Billy, the only one sturdy
+enough to voice his discomfiture.
+
+Wallingford beamed over this tribute to his prowess.
+
+"Well, you get a split of it, anyhow," he offered. "I'll take you all
+to dinner, then afterward we'll have a little game of stud poker if
+you like--with police interference barred."
+
+They were about to decline this kind invitation when Short-Card Larry
+turned suddenly to him, with a gleam of the teeth which was almost a
+snarl.
+
+"We'll take you," he said. "Just a little friendly game for small
+stakes."
+
+J. Rufus elevated his eyebrows a trifle, but smiled. Inwardly he felt
+perfectly competent to protect himself.
+
+"Fine business," he assented. "Suppose we have dinner in my rooms. I'm
+beginning to get them educated at my hotel."
+
+At the hotel he stopped for a moment at the curb to give his chauffeur
+some instructions, while the other four awaited him on the steps.
+
+"How'd you come to fall for this stud game, Larry?" inquired Phelps.
+"I can't see poker merely for health, and this Willy Wisdom won't call
+any raise of over two dollars when he's playing with us."
+
+"I know he won't," snapped Larry, setting his jaws savagely, "but
+we're going to get his money just the same. Billy, you break away and
+run down to Joe's drug-store for the K.O."
+
+They all grinned, with the light of admiration dawning in their eyes
+for Larry Teller. "K.O." was cipher for "knock-out drops," a pleasant
+little decoction guaranteed to put a victim into fathomless slumber,
+but not to kill him if his heart was right.
+
+"How long will it be until dinner's ready, Wallingford?" asked Billy,
+looking at his watch as J. Rufus came up.
+
+"Oh, about an hour, I suppose."
+
+"Good," said Billy. "I'll just have time. I have to go get some money
+that a fellow promised me, and if I don't see him to-night I may not
+see him at all. Besides, I'll probably need it if you play your usual
+game."
+
+"Nothing doing," replied Wallingford. "I only want to yammer you
+fellows out of a hundred apiece, and the game will be as quiet as a
+peddler's pup."
+
+J. Rufus conducted the others into the sitting-room of his suite and
+sent for a waiter. There was never any point lacking in Wallingford's
+hospitality, and by the time Billy came back he was ready to serve
+them a dinner that was worth discussing. The dinner despatched, he had
+the table cleared and brought out cards and chips. It was a quiet,
+comfortable game for nearly an hour, with very mild betting and plenty
+to drink. It was during the fifth bottle of wine, dating from the
+beginning of the dinner, that Short-Card Larry, by a dexterous
+accident, pitched Wallingford's stack of chips on the floor with a
+toss of the deck. Amid the profuse apologies of Larry, Mr. Phelps, who
+was at Wallingford's left, stooped down to help that gentleman pick up
+his chips, and in that moment Badger Billy quietly emptied the
+colorless contents of a tiny vial in Wallingford's glass. J. Rufus
+never was able to remember what happened after that.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Silk pajama clad, but still wearing portions of his day attire, he
+awoke next day with a headache, and a tongue that felt like a
+shredded-wheat biscuit. He held his head very level to keep the leaden
+weight in the top of it from sliding around and bumping his skull, and
+opened the swollen slits that did him painful duty for eyelids wide
+enough to let him find the telephone, through which instrument he
+ordered a silver-fizz. Of the butler who brought it he asked what time
+it was.
+
+"One o'clock, sir," replied the butler with the utmost gravity.
+
+One o'clock! J. Rufus pondered the matter slowly.
+
+"Morning or afternoon," he huskily asked.
+
+"Afternoon, sir," and this time the butler permitted himself the
+slightest trace of a smile as he noted the electric lights, still
+blazing in sickly defiance of the bright sunshine which crept in
+around the edges of the double blinds.
+
+"Huh!" grunted J. Rufus, and pondered more.
+
+Half dozing, he stood, glass in hand, for full five minutes, while the
+butler, with a lively appreciation of tips past and to come, stood
+patiently holding his little silver tray, with check and pencil
+waiting for the signature. At the expiration of that time, however,
+the butler coughed once, gently; once, normally; the third time very
+loudly. These means failing, he dropped the tray clattering to the
+floor, and with a cheerful "Beg your pardon, sir," picked it up. Not
+knowing that he had been asleep again, Wallingford took a sip of the
+refreshing drink and walked across to a garment which lay upon the
+chair, feeling through the pockets one after the other. In one pocket
+there was a little silver, but in the others nothing. He gave a coin
+to the butler and signed the check in deep thoughtfulness, then sat
+down heavily and dozed another fifteen minutes. Awakening, he found
+the glass at his hand on the serving-bench, and drank about a fourth
+of the contents very slowly.
+
+"Spiked!" he groaned aloud.
+
+He had good reason to believe that his wine had been "doctored," for
+never before had anything he drank affected him like this. Another
+glance at the garment of barren pockets reminded him to look about for
+the coat and vest he had worn the night before. They were not visible
+in his bedroom, and, still carrying the glass of life-saving mixture
+with him, he made his way into his sitting-room and surveyed the
+wreck. On the table was a confusion of cards and chips, and around its
+edge stood five champagne glasses, two of them empty, two half full,
+one full. Against the wall stood a row of four empty quart bottles. In
+an ice pail, filled now with but tepid water, there reposed a fifth
+bottle, neck downward. Five chairs were grouped unevenly about the
+table, one of them overturned and the others left at random where they
+had been pushed back. The lights here, also, were still burning.
+Heaped on a chair in the corner were the coat and vest he sought, and
+he went through their pockets methodically, reaching first for his
+wallet. It was perfectly clean inside. In one of the vest-pockets he
+found a soiled, very much crumpled two-dollar bill, and the first
+stiff smile of his waking stretched his lips.
+
+"I wonder how they overlooked this?" he questioned.
+
+Again his eyes turned musingly to those five empty bottles, and again
+the conviction was borne in upon him that the wine had been drugged.
+Under no circumstances could his share, even an unequal share, of five
+bottles of champagne among five persons have worked this havoc in him.
+
+"Spiked," he concluded again in a tone of resignation. "At last they
+got to me."
+
+The silver-fizz was flat now, but every sip of it was nevertheless
+full of reviving grace, and he sat in the big leather rocker to think
+things over. As he did so his eye caught something that made him start
+from his chair so suddenly that he had to put both hands to his head.
+Under the table was a bit of light orange paper. A fifty-dollar bill!
+In that moment--that is, after he had painfully stooped down to get it
+and had smoothed it out to assure himself that it was real--this
+beautifully printed government certificate looked to him about the
+size of a piano cover. An instant before, disaster had stared him in
+the face. This was but Thursday morning, and, having paid his hotel
+bill on Monday, he had the balance of the week to go on; but for that
+week he would have been chained to this hotel. Now he was foot-loose,
+now he was free, and his first thought was of his only possible
+resource, Blackie Daw, in Boston!
+
+It took two hours of severe labor on the part of a valet, two
+bell-boys and a barber to turn the Wallingford wreck into his usual
+well-groomed self, but the hour of sailing saw him somnolently, but
+safely ensconced on a Boston packet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ THE BROADWAY QUARTET CONTINUES TO TAKE
+ WALLINGFORD'S MONEY
+
+
+Blackie Daw's most recent Boston address had been: "Yellow Streak
+Mining Company, Seven Hundred and Ten Marabon Building," and yet when
+J. Rufus paused before number seven hundred and ten of that building
+he found its glass door painted with the sign of the National
+Clockers' Association. Worried by the fact that Blackie had moved, yet
+struck by the peculiar coincidence of his place being occupied by the
+concern that had given him the tip on Razzoo, he walked into the
+office to inquire the whereabouts of his friend. He found three girls
+at a long table, slitting open huge piles of envelopes and removing
+from them money, postal orders and checks--mostly money, for the sort
+of people who patronized the National Clockers' Association were
+quite willing to "take a chance" on a five- or a twenty-dollar bill
+in the mails. Behind a newspaper, in a big leather chair near a
+flat-top mahogany desk, with his feet conveniently elevated on the
+waste-basket, sat a gentleman who, when he moved the paper aside to
+see whom his visitor might be, proved to be Blackie Daw himself.
+
+"Hello, none other than the friend of me childhood!" exclaimed
+Blackie, springing to his feet and extending his hand. "What brings
+you here?"
+
+"Broke," replied Wallingford briefly. "They cleaned me. Got any
+money?"
+
+Mr. Daw opened the top drawer of his desk, and it proved to be nearly
+full of bills, thrown loosely in, with no attempt at order or sorting.
+"Money's the cheapest thing in Boston," he announced, waving his hand
+carelessly over the contents of the drawer. "Help yourself, old man.
+The New York mail will bring in plenty more. They've had two winners
+there this week, and when it does fall for anything, N'Yawk's the
+biggest yap town on earth."
+
+Wallingford, having drawn up a chair with alacrity, was already
+sorting bills, smoothing them out and counting them off in hundreds.
+
+"And all on pure charity--picking out winning horses for your
+customers!" laughed Wallingford. "This is a real gold mine you've hit
+at last."
+
+"Pretty good," agreed Blackie. "I'd have enough to start a mint of my
+own if I didn't lose so much playing the races."
+
+"You don't play your own tips, I hope," expostulated Wallingford,
+pausing to inspect a tattered bill.
+
+"I should say not," returned Daw with emphasis. "If I did that I'd
+have to play every horse in every race. You see, every day I wire the
+name of one horse to all my subscribers in Philadelphia, another to
+Baltimore, another to Washington, and so on down the list. One of
+those horses has to win. Suppose I pick out the horse Roller Skate
+for Philadelphia. Well, if Roller skates home that day I advertise in
+the Philadelphia papers the next morning, and, besides that, every
+fall-easy that got the tip advertises me to some of his friends, and
+they all spike themselves to send in money for the dope. Oh, it's a
+great game, all right."
+
+"It's got yegging frazzled to a pulp," agreed Wallingford. "But I
+oughtn't to yell police. I got the lucky word my first time out. I
+played Razzoo and cleaned up six thousand dollars on the strength of
+your wire."
+
+"Go on!" returned Blackie delightedly. "You don't mean to say you're
+sorting some of your own money there?"
+
+"I sure am," laughed Wallingford, picking up a five-dollar bill. "I
+think this must be it. What's the New York horse to-day?"
+
+Blackie consulted a list that lay on his desk.
+
+"Whipsaw," he said.
+
+"Whipsaw! By George, Blackie, if there's any one thing I'd like to do,
+it'd be to whipsaw some friends of yours on Broadway." Whereupon he
+told Blackie, with much picturesque embellishment, just how Messrs.
+Phelps, Teller, Banting and Pickins had managed to annex the Razzoo
+money.
+
+Blackie enjoyed that recital very much.
+
+"The Broadway Syndicate is still on the job," he commented. "Well, J.
+Rufus, let this teach you how to take a joke next time."
+
+"I'm not saying a word," replied Wallingford. "Any time I let a
+kindergarten crowd like that work a trick on me that was invented
+right after Noah discovered spoiled grape juice, I owe myself a month
+in jail. But watch me. I'll make moccasins out of their hides, all
+right."
+
+"Go right ahead, old man, and see if I care," consented Blackie.
+"Slam the harpoon into them and twist it."
+
+"I will," asserted Wallingford confidently. "I don't like them because
+they're grouches; I don't like them because they're cheap; I don't
+like their names, nor their faces, nor the town they live in. Making
+money in New York's too much like sixteen hungry bulldogs to one bone.
+The best dog gets it, but he finishes too weak for an appetite. What
+kind of a horse is this Whipsaw you're sending out to-day?"
+
+"I don't know. Where's the dope on Whipsaw, Tillie?"
+
+A girl with a freckled face and a keen eye and a saucy air went over
+to the filing-case and searched out a piece of cardboard a foot
+square. Blackie glanced over it with an experienced eye.
+
+"Maiden," said he; "been in four races, and the best he ever did was
+fourth in a bunch of goats that only ambled all the way around the
+track because that was the only way they could get back to the
+stable."
+
+The mail carrier just then came in with a huge bundle of letters.
+
+"New York mail," observed Blackie. "After that Razzoo thing it ought
+to be rich pickings."
+
+"Pickings!" exclaimed J. Rufus, struck by a sudden idea. "See if
+Pickins or Teller or any of that crowd have contributed. Pickins said
+they were going to try it out, just to see if lightning could really
+strike twice in the same place."
+
+Blackie wrote a number of names on a slip of paper and handed it to
+Tillie.
+
+"Look for these names in the mail," he directed, "and if a
+subscription comes in from any one of them let me know it."
+
+Wallingford had idly picked up the card containing Whipsaw's record.
+
+It was a most accurate typewritten sheet, giving age, pedigree,
+description and detailed action in every race; but the point that
+caught Wallingford's eye was the name of the owner.
+
+"One of Jake Block's horses, by George!" he said, and fell into silent
+musing from which he was interrupted by the girl, who was laughing.
+
+"Here's your party," she said to Blackie, handing him an envelope.
+"This twenty's in it, and I think it's bad money."
+
+Blackie passed the bill to Wallingford, who slipped it through
+experienced fingers.
+
+"You couldn't pass this one on an organ-grinder's monkey," he said,
+chuckling. "But that's all right; just put 'em on the wiring-list,
+anyhow. Make 'em lose their money. It's the only way you can get
+even."
+
+The girl looked to Blackie for instructions, and he nodded his head.
+
+"Who sent it?" asked Wallingford idly.
+
+"Peters is the name signed here," replied Blackie. "That means Harry
+Phelps. I gave Tillie all the aliases this bunch of crimples carry
+around with them, knowing they'd probably send it in that way."
+
+Wallingford nodded comprehendingly.
+
+"They'd rather do even the square thing crooked. Well, you know what
+to do."
+
+"I'll send them special picks," declared Blackie with a grin. "Nothing
+but a list of crabs that would come in third in a two-horse race. But
+come on outside; we're too far from cracked ice," and grabbing an
+uncounted handful of bills from the drawer of his desk, Blackie
+stuffed them in his pocket and led the way out.
+
+It was at luncheon that Blackie made his first protest.
+
+"What's the matter with you, J. Rufus?" he demanded. "I never saw you
+insult food and drink before."
+
+"I'm thinking," returned Wallingford solemnly. "I hate to do it, for
+it interferes with my appetite; but here's a case where I must. I have
+got to put one over on that Broadway bunch or lose my self-respect."
+
+That evening, on the way down to the boat, their feet cocked
+comfortably on the opposite seat of a cab, Wallingford formulated a
+more or less vague plan.
+
+"Tell you what you do, Blackie," he directed; "you send to Phelps and
+to me, until I give you the word, a daily tip on sure losers. In the
+meantime, bank all your money, and don't make a bet on any race."
+
+"What are you going to do?" asked Blackie curiously.
+
+"Land a sure winner for us and a loser for the Broadway Syndicate.
+Hold yourself ready when I wire you to take a quick train for my
+hotel, loaded down with all the money you can grab together."
+
+"Fine!" returned Blackie. "You wire me that it's all fixed, and when I
+start for New York there'll be a financial stringency in Boston."
+
+Returning to New York, Wallingford caught Beauty Phillips at breakfast
+about noon, and in a most charming morning gown, for the Beauty was
+consistent enough to be neat even when there was none but "mother" to
+see.
+
+"Hello, Mr. Mark, from Easyville," she hailed him. "I heard all about
+you."
+
+"You did!" he demanded, surprised. "Who told you?"
+
+"Phelps and Banting," she said. "They had the nerve to come up in the
+grand-stand yesterday and tell Mr. Block and me all about it; told me
+how much you won and how they got it away from you at poker."
+
+"Did they tell you they put knock-out drops in my wine?" demanded
+Wallingford.
+
+"They didn't do that!" she protested.
+
+"Exactly what they did. Whether we played poker afterward, I don't
+know. I'd just as soon as not believe they went through my pockets."
+
+"I wouldn't put it past them a bit," she agreed, and then her
+indignation began to grow. "Say, ain't it a shame! Now, if I hadn't
+gone out to dinner with Mr. Block, you'd have been with me. I'd have
+had that lovely diamond brooch you promised me out of your first
+winnings, and we'd have had all the rest of it to bet with for a few
+days. Honest, Pinky, I feel as if it were my fault!"
+
+"Don't you worry about that," Wallingford cordially reassured her. "It
+was my own fault; but I wasn't looking for anything worse than a knife
+in my back or a piece of lead pipe behind the ear. There's no use in
+crying over spilled milk. The thing to do now is to get even, and I
+want you to help me."
+
+"Don't you mix in, Beauty," admonished the hired mother, but the
+Beauty was thoughtful for a while. "Mother" was there to give good
+advice, but the Beauty only took it if she liked it.
+
+"I really can't afford it," she said, by and by; "but I've got some
+principles about me, and I don't like to see a good sport like you
+take a rough dose from a lot of cheaps like them; so you show me how
+and I'll mix in just this once."
+
+Wallingford hesitated in turn.
+
+"How do you like Block?" he inquired.
+
+Beauty Phillips sniffed her dainty nose in disdain.
+
+"He won't do," she announced with decision. "I've found out all about
+him. He's got enough money to star me in a show of my own for the next
+ten years, but he's not furnished with the brand of manners I like.
+I'll never marry a man I can't stand. I've got a _few_ principles
+about me! Why, yesterday he tried to treat me real lovely, but do you
+know, he wouldn't give me the name of a horse, even when he put a
+hundred down for me in the third race? There I sat, with a string of
+'em just prancing around the track, and not one to pull for. Then
+after the race is over he comes and tosses me five hundred dollars. 'I
+got you four to one on the winner,' says he. Why, it was just like
+_giving me money_! Jimmy, I'm going out to dinner with him to-night,
+then I'm going to turn him back into the paddock, and you can pal
+around with me again until I find a man with plenty of money that I
+could really love."
+
+"Don't spill the beans," advised Wallingford hastily. "Block thinks
+you're about the maple custard, don't he?"
+
+"He's crazy about me," confessed the Beauty complacently.
+
+"Fine work. Well, just you string him along till he gives you the
+name of a sure winner in advance; jolly it out of him."
+
+"Not on your three-sheet litho!" negatived the Beauty. "I never yet
+worked one mash against another. I guess you'd expect to play even on
+that tip, eh?"
+
+"Sure, we'll play it," admitted Wallingford; "but better than that,
+I'll shred this Harry Phelps crowd so clean they'll have to borrow car
+fare."
+
+She thought on this possibility with sparkling eyes. She was against
+the "Phelps crowd" on principle. Also--well, Wallingford had always
+been a perfect gentleman.
+
+"Are you sure you can do it?" she wanted to know.
+
+"It's all framed up," he asserted confidently; "all I want is the name
+of that winner."
+
+The Beauty considered the matter seriously, and in the end silently
+shook hands with him. The _pro tem_. Mrs. Phillips sniffed.
+
+This was on a Saturday, a matinée day, and Wallingford went out to the
+track alone, contenting himself with extremely small bets, merely to
+keep his interest alive. The day's racing was half over before he ran
+across the Broadway Syndicate. They were heartily glad to see him.
+They greeted him with even effervescent joy.
+
+"Where have you been, J. Rufus?" asked Phelps. "We were looking for
+you all over yesterday. We thought sure you'd be out at the track
+playing that Boston Gouge Company's tips."
+
+"Your dear chum was in the country, resting up," replied Wallingford,
+with matter-of-fact cheerfulness. "By George, I never had wine put me
+down and out so in my life"--whereat the cadaverous Short-Card Larry
+could not repress a wink for the benefit of Yap Pickins. "What was the
+good-thing they wired yesterday?"
+
+"Whipsaw!" scorned Phelps. "Say, do you see that horse out
+there?"--and he pointed to a selling-plater, up at the head of the
+stretch, which was being warmed up by a stable-boy. "Well, that's
+Whipsaw, just coming in from yesterday's last race."
+
+Wallingford chuckled.
+
+"They're bound, you know, to land on a dead one once in a while," he
+grunted; "but I'm strong for their game, just the same. You remember
+what that Razzoo thing that they tipped off did for me the other day."
+
+"Yes?" admitted Phelps with a rising inflection and a meaning grin.
+"Nice money you won on him. It spends well."
+
+"Enjoy yourselves," invited Wallingford cordially. "I've no kick
+coming. I'm through with stud poker till they quit playing it with a
+hole-card."
+
+"I don't blame you," agreed Short-Card Larry solemnly. "Anybody that
+would bet a four-flush against two aces in sight, the way you did when
+Billy won that three-thousand-dollar pot from you, ought never to play
+anything stronger than ping-pong for the cigarettes."
+
+Wallingford nodded, with the best brand of suavity he could muster
+under the irritating circumstances.
+
+"I suppose I did play like a man expecting his wife to telephone," he
+admitted. "Excuse me a minute; I want to get a bet down on this race."
+
+"Whom do you like?" asked Pickins.
+
+"Rosey S."
+
+The four began to laugh.
+
+"That's the hot Boston tip," gasped Phelps. "Say, Wallingford, don't
+give your money to the Mets. Let us make a book for you on that
+skate."
+
+"You're on," agreed J. Rufus, delighted that the proposition should
+come from them, for he had been edging in that direction himself.
+"I'll squander a hundred on the goat at the first odds we see."
+
+They went into the betting-shed. Rosey S. was quoted at six to one.
+Even as they looked the price was rubbed, and ten to one was chalked
+in its place. The laughter of the quartet was long and loud as they
+pulled money from their pockets.
+
+"The first odds goes, Big Pink," Banting reminded him.
+
+Wallingford produced his hundred dollars, and quietly noted that the
+eyes of the quartet glistened as they saw the size of the roll from
+which he extracted it. They had not been prepared to find that he
+still had plenty of money. Jake Block passed near them, and
+Wallingford hailed him.
+
+"Hold stakes for us, Jake, on a little private bet?" he asked.
+
+"Sure thing," acquiesced Jake. "What is it?"
+
+"These fellows are trying to win out dinner-money on me. They're
+giving me six hundred to one against Rosey S."
+
+Block glanced up at the board and noted the increased odds, but it was
+no part of his policy to interfere in anything.
+
+"All right," he said, taking the seven hundred dollars and stuffing
+the money in his pocket. "You don't want to lay a little more, do you,
+at that odds?"
+
+"No," declined Wallingford. "I'm unlucky when I press a bet."
+
+Rosey S. put up a very good race for place, but dropped back in the
+finish to a chorus of comforting observations from the quartet, who,
+to make matters more aggravating, had played the winner for place at a
+good price.
+
+Jake Block came to them right after the race and handed over the
+money. He was evidently in a great hurry. Wallingford started to talk
+to him, but Block moved off rapidly, and it dawned upon J. Rufus that
+the horseman wanted to "shake" him so as not to have to invite him to
+dinner with himself and Beauty Phillips.
+
+Sunday morning he went around to that discreet young lady's flat for
+breakfast, by appointment. "Mrs. Phillips" met him with unusual
+warmth.
+
+"I've been missing you," she stated with belated remembrance of
+certain generous gifts. "Say," she added with sudden indignation, "you
+may have my share of Block for two peanuts. What do you suppose he
+did? Offered me five dollars to boost him with Beauty. _Five
+dollars!_"
+
+"The cheap skate!" exclaimed Wallingford sympathetically.
+
+The Beauty came in and greeted him with a flush of pleasure.
+
+"Well," she said, "I got it, all right. The horse runs in the fourth
+race Friday, and its name is Whipsaw."
+
+"Whipsaw!" exclaimed Wallingford. "He's stringing you."
+
+"No, he isn't," she declared positively. "It was one o'clock last
+night before I got him thawed out enough to give up, and I had to let
+him hold my hand, at that," and she rubbed that hand vigorously as if
+it still had some stain upon it. "He told me all about the horse. He
+says it's the one good thing he's going to uncover for this meeting.
+He tried Whipsaw out on his own breeding-farm down in Kentucky,
+clocking him twice a week, and he says the nag can beat anything on
+this track. Block's been breaking him to run real races, entering
+against a lot of selling-platers, with instructions to an iron-armed
+jockey to hold in so as to get a long price. Friday he intends to send
+the horse in to win and expects to get big odds. I'm glad it's over
+with. We promised to go out to Claremont this afternoon with Block,
+but that settles him. To-morrow I'm going out with you."
+
+J. Rufus shook his head.
+
+"No, you mustn't," he insisted. "You must string this boy along till
+after the race Friday. He might change his mind or scratch the horse
+or something, but if he knows you have a heavy bet down, and he's
+still with you, he'll go through with the program."
+
+"I can't do it," she protested.
+
+He turned to her slowly, took both her hands, and gazed into her eyes.
+
+"Yes, you can, Beauty," he said. "We've been good pals up to now, and
+this is the last thing I'll ever ask of you."
+
+She looked at him a moment with heightening color, then she dropped
+her eyes.
+
+"Honest, Pinky," she confessed, "sometimes I do wish you had a lot of
+money."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+ IN WHICH WALLINGFORD AND BLACKIE DAW ENJOY
+ THEMSELVES
+
+
+On Monday, nearing noon, Wallingford dropped into a flashy café just
+off Broadway, where he knew he would be bound to find some one of his
+quartet. He found Short-Card Larry there alone, his long, thin fingers
+clasped around a glass of buttermilk.
+
+"Hello, Wallingford," he said, grinning. "Going out to the track
+to-day?"
+
+"I'm not going to miss a race till the meeting closes," asserted
+Wallingford. "I've a good one to-day that I'm going to send in a
+couple of hundred on."
+
+"What is it?" asked Larry.
+
+"Governor."
+
+"Governor!" snorted Larry. "Who's in the race with him?" He drew a
+paper to him and turned to the entries. "Why," he protested, "there
+isn't a plug in that race that can't come back to hunt him."
+
+"That's all right," said Wallingford. "I'm for the National Clockers'
+Association, and I'm going to play their picks straight through."
+
+"Here's a match," offered Larry scornfully. "Set fire to your money
+and save yourself the trouble of the trip."
+
+"Maybe you'd like to save it from the flames. What odds will you give
+me?"
+
+This being an entirely different proposition, Larry began to think
+much better of the horse.
+
+"Five to one," he finally decided, after studying over the entries
+again. "Don't know whether that's the track odds or not. But you can
+take it or leave it."
+
+"I'll take it," agreed Wallingford, and tossed his money on the bar.
+
+Mr. Teller drew a check-book from his pocket, and Wallingford,
+glancing at the top of the stub as Larry filled out the blank for a
+thousand, noted with satisfaction the splendid balance that was there.
+Evidently the gang was well in funds. They had, no doubt, been quite
+busy of late.
+
+"Of course you'll cash that," requested Wallingford, not so much on
+account of this particular bet as to establish a precedent.
+
+"Sure," agreed Teller; "although I'll only have to deposit it again."
+
+"I'm betting the two hundred you don't, remember," said Wallingford,
+and they signed a memorandum of the bet, which they deposited with the
+rock-jawed proprietor, after that never-smiling gentleman had
+nonchalantly opened his safe and cashed Larry's check.
+
+On Tuesday morning, Governor having lost and Short-Card Larry having
+imprudently exulted to his friends over the two-hundred-dollar
+winning, Mr. Teller came around to Wallingford's hotel with his pocket
+full of money to find there Badger Billy and Mr. Phelps, both of whom
+had come on similar business.
+
+"I suppose you got his coin on to-day's sure thing," observed Larry
+with a scowl, he being one to whom a bad temper came naturally.
+
+"Three hundred of it," said fat Badger Billy triumphantly. "To-day he
+has a piece of Brie _fromage_ by the name of Handicass."
+
+"Which ought to be called Handcase," supplemented Phelps, and the two
+threw back their heads and roared. "The cheese is expected to skipper
+home about the time the crowd realizes they're off." And they all
+enjoyed themselves in contemplation of what was going to happen to
+Handicass.
+
+"Got any more?" demanded Larry.
+
+"Not this morning," returned Wallingford, accepting his rôle of
+derided "come-on" with smiling fortitude. "I want to save some for
+to-morrow's bet."
+
+"You see," explained Billy Banting, purring up his red cheeks with
+laughter, "Wallingford's playing a system of progression. He hikes the
+bet every day, expecting to play even in the finish."
+
+"I see," said Larry, grinning; "but don't you fellows hook all this
+easy money. Count me in for a piece of to-morrow's bet."
+
+He had a chance. Handicass ran to consistent form with all the other
+"picks"--except the one accident, Razzoo--of the National Clockers'
+Association, and on Wednesday, Wallingford bet four hundred on the
+"information" which that concern wired to him and to Mr. Phelps. On
+that day, too, having received at breakfast-time a report from Beauty
+Phillips that the Whipsaw horse was still "meant," he wrote careful
+instructions to Blackie Daw, then held his thumbs and crossed his
+fingers and touched wood and looked at the moon over the proper
+shoulder, and did various other things to keep Fate from sending home
+one of those tips as an accidental winner on either Wednesday or
+Thursday.
+
+Nothing of that disastrous sort happened, however, and his pet
+enemies, the quartet, having won from J. Rufus on Saturday, Monday,
+Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, had by this time pooled their
+interests and constituted themselves Wallingford's regular bookmaking
+syndicate. Their only fear on Friday morning, after Phelps had
+received his wire from Boston, was that Wallingford would not care to
+bet that day, since the horse which had been given out was that
+notorious tail-ender, Whipsaw! They invaded J. Rufus' apartments as
+soon as they got the wire, and were relieved to find that Wallingford
+was still firm in his allegiance to the National Clockers'
+Association.
+
+They were a little surprised, however, to find Blackie Daw at
+breakfast with Wallingford, but they greeted that old comrade with
+great cordiality, coupled with an inward fear that he might interfere
+with their designs upon Wallingford.
+
+"You haven't been making a book against J. Rufus on the day's races,
+have you?" inquired Phelps.
+
+"Not yet," said Blackie, laughing, "but I'm willing. What's he on?"
+
+"Whipsaw," interposed Wallingford.
+
+Blackie laughed softly.
+
+"I don't know the horse," he said, "but I just seem to remember that
+he's the joke of the track."
+
+"No," explained Larry; "he's too painful to be a joke."
+
+"What odds do you expect to get, Wallingford?" asked Blackie, reaching
+for his wallet.
+
+"Hold on a minute," said Phelps hastily. "You don't want to butt in on
+this, Daw. We've been making book for J. Rufus all week, and it's our
+money. You hold stakes."
+
+"Don't you worry," snapped Wallingford, suddenly displaying temper;
+"there will be enough to go around. I'll cover every cent you four
+have or can get," and he pushed his chair back from the table. "This
+is my last day in the racing game, and I'm going to plunge on Whipsaw.
+I've turned into cash every resource I had in the world. I've even
+soaked my diamonds and watch to get more. Now come on and cover my
+coin." From his pocket he produced a thick bundle of bills of large
+denomination. "What odds do I get? The last time Whipsaw was in a
+race he opened at twelve to one and I ought to get fifteen at least
+to-day. Here's a thousand at that odds."
+
+"Not on your life!" said Short-Card Larry. "I wouldn't put up fifteen
+thousand to win one on any game."
+
+"What'll you give me, then? Come on for this easy money. Give me ten?"
+
+No, they would not give him ten.
+
+"Give me eight?"
+
+They hesitated. He immediately slid the money in his pocket.
+
+"You fellows are kidding. You don't want to make book for me. I'll
+take this coin out to the track and get it down at the long odds."
+
+His display of contemptuous anger decided them.
+
+"I'll take my share," asserted Short-Card Larry, he of the quick
+temper, and among them the four made up the money to cover
+Wallingford's bet.
+
+"Here's the stakes, Blackie," said Wallingford, passing over the money
+toward him. "You're all willing he should hold the money?"
+
+They were. They knew Blackie.
+
+"Moreover," observed Yap Pickins meaningly, "we'll keep close to him."
+
+"Here's another thousand that you can cover at five to one," offered
+Wallingford, counting out the money.
+
+Now they were as eager as he.
+
+"We'll take you," said Teller, "but I'll have to go out and get more
+mezuma."
+
+"All right. Bring all you can scrape together and I'll cover the
+balance of it at two to one."
+
+For just one moment they were suspicious.
+
+"Look here," said Billy Banting, "do you know something about this
+horse?"
+
+"If I did I wouldn't tell. Don't you know that I can get from fifteen
+to twenty at the track? Why do you suppose I want to make such a
+sucker bet as this? It's because I'd rather have your money than
+anybody else's; because I want to _break_ you!"
+
+He was fairly trembling with simulated anger now.
+
+"If that's the case you'll be accommodated," said Teller with an oath.
+"Come on, boys; we'll bring up a chunk of money that'll stop all this
+four-flush conversation."
+
+Mr. Phelps, having already "produced to his limit," stayed with
+Wallingford while the others went out. First of all, they dropped in
+at a quiet pool-room where they were known, and made inquiries about
+Whipsaw. They were answered by a laugh, and an offer to "take them on
+for all they wanted at their own odds," and, reassured, they
+scattered, to raise all the money they could. They returned in the
+course of an hour and counted down a sum larger than Wallingford had
+thought the four of them could control. He was to find out later that
+they had not only converted their bank accounts and all their other
+holdings into currency, but had borrowed all their credit would stand
+wherever they were known. Wallingford, covering their first five
+thousand with one, calmly counted out an amount equal to one-half of
+all the rest they had put down, passed it over to Blackie to hold,
+then flaunted more money in their faces.
+
+"This is at evens if you can scrape up any more," he offered
+sneeringly. "Go soak your jewelry."
+
+Before making that suggestion he had noted the absence of Larry's ring
+and of Billy's studded watch-charm. Phelps was the only one who still
+wore anything convertible, a loud cravat-pin, an emerald, set with
+diamonds.
+
+"Give you two hundred against your pin," said he to Phelps, and the
+latter promptly took the bet.
+
+"Are you all in?" asked Wallingford.
+
+They promptly acknowledged that they were "all in."
+
+"All right, then; we'll have a drink and go out to the track. You'll
+want to see this race, _because I win_!"
+
+They were naturally contemptuous of this view, even hilariously
+contemptuous, and they offered to lend Wallingford money enough, after
+the race, "to sneak out of town and hide."
+
+While they were taking the parting drink Blackie Daw slipped into
+Wallingford's bedroom for just one moment "to get a handkerchief."
+There he found, mopping his brow, a short, thick-set chap known as
+Shorty Hampton, a perfectly reliable and discreet betting
+commissioner.
+
+"I was just goin' to duck," growled Shorty in a gruff whisper. "I've
+got two or three other parties to see. I've been suffocating in this
+damned little room for the last hour, waitin'."
+
+"All right. Here's the money," said Blackie, and handed him _half the
+stakes which had just been intrusted to his care_. "Spread this in as
+many pool-rooms as you can; get it all down on Whipsaw."
+
+"Three ways?" asked Shorty.
+
+"Straight, every cent of it," insisted Daw. "No place or show-money
+for us to-day."
+
+At the track they saw Beauty Phillips alone in the grand-stand, and
+joined her. Wallingford introduced Blackie, and they chatted with her
+a few moments, then Wallingford took him away. He did not care to have
+Jake Block see them with her until after the fourth race. As they
+moved off she gave Wallingford a quick, meaning little nod.
+
+True to Pickins' threat the quartet kept very close indeed to Daw,
+but, during the finish of the rather exciting third race, Blackie,
+manoeuvering so that Wallingford was just behind him, slipped from
+his pocket the remaining half of the stake-money.
+
+"Well, boys," said Wallingford blandly, the money safely tucked away
+in his own pocket. "I still have a little coin to wager on Whipsaw. Do
+you want it?"
+
+"No; we're satisfied," returned Larry dryly.
+
+"All right, then," said Wallingford. "I'm going down and get it on the
+books."
+
+Harry Phelps sighed.
+
+"It's too bad to see that easy money going away from us, Pink," he
+confessed.
+
+Jake Block spent but little time that afternoon in the grand-stand by
+the side of Beauty Phillips and her mother. From the beginning of the
+racing he was first in the stables and then in the paddock with an
+anxious eye. He was lined up at the fence opposite the barrier for the
+start of the fateful fourth, and he stood there, after the horses had
+jumped away, to watch his great little Whipsaw around the course. But
+Beauty Phillips was not without company. Wallingford sauntered up at
+the sound of the mounting bell and sat confidently by her.
+
+"Did you get it all down, Jimmy?" she asked.
+
+"Every cent," said he, wiping his brow nervously. "Did you?"
+
+"Mother and I are broke if Whipsaw don't win," she confessed with dry
+lips. "What do you suppose makes Mr. Block look up here with such a
+poison face every two or three minutes?"
+
+Wallingford chuckled hugely.
+
+"The odds," he explained. "I've cut them to slivers. I bet all mine
+and Blackie's money with the Phelps crowd, then turned around and bet
+all ours and theirs again. Say, it's murder if I lose. Not even a
+fancy murder, either."
+
+Blackie Daw, attended by three of his guard, came over to join them,
+Blackie evidencing a strong disposition to linger in the rear, for he
+was taking a desperate chance with desperate men. If Whipsaw lost he
+had his course mapped out--down the nearest steps of the grand-stand
+and out to the carriage-gate as fast as his legs would carry him.
+There, J. Rufus' automobile was to be waiting, all cranked up and
+trembling, ready to dart away the moment Blackie should jump in. Just
+as Blackie and the others joined Wallingford and Beauty Phillips,
+Larry Teller came breathlessly up from the betting-shed.
+
+"There's something doing on that Whipsaw horse," he declared
+excitedly. "He opened at twenty to one--and in fifteen minutes of
+play--either somebody that knows something--or a wagonload of
+fool-money--had backed him down to evens. Think of it! Evens!"
+
+There was a sudden roar from the crowd, more like a gigantic groan
+than any other sound. They were off! One horse was left at the post,
+but it was not Whipsaw. Two others trailed behind. The other five were
+away, well bunched. At the quarter, three horses drew into the lead,
+Whipsaw just behind them. At the half, one of the three was dropping
+back, and Whipsaw slowly overtaking it. Now his nose was at her
+flanks; now at the saddle; then the jockeys were abreast; then the
+white jacket and red sleeves of Whipsaw's rider could be seen to the
+fore of the opposing jockey, with the two leaders just ahead. At the
+three-quarters, three horses were neck and neck again, but this time
+Whipsaw was among them. Down the stretch they came pounding, and then,
+and not until then, did Whipsaw, a lithe, shining little brown streak,
+strike into the best stride of which he was capable. A thousand hoarse
+watchers, as they came to the seven-eighths, roared encouragement to
+the horses. Whipsaw's name was much among them, but only in tones of
+anger. Men and even women ran down to the rail and stood on tiptoe
+with red faces, shrieking for Fashion to come on, begging and praying
+Fashion to win, for Fashion carried most of the money; and the
+shrieking became an agony as the horses flashed under the wire,
+Whipsaw a good, clean half length in the lead!
+
+[Illustration: Beauty Phillips discovered she was on her feet]
+
+As the roaring stopped in one high, abrupt wail, Beauty Phillips, who
+never knew emotion or excitement, suddenly discovered, to her vast
+surprise, that she was on her feet! that she was clutching her throat
+for its hoarseness! that she was dripping with perspiration! that she
+was faint and weak and giddy! that her blood was pounding and her
+eyeballs hurt; and that she had been, from the stretch down, jumping
+violently up and down and shrieking the name of Whipsaw! Whipsaw!
+Whipsaw! Whipsaw!
+
+A frenzied hand grabbed Blackie Daw by the elbow.
+
+"Duck, for God's sake, Blackie!" implored the shaking voice of Billy
+Banting. "Go down to the old joint on Thirty-third Street and wait for
+us. We'll split up that stake and all make a get-away."
+
+"Not on your life!" returned Blacked calmly, and pulled Wallingford
+around toward him by the shoulder. "I shall have great pleasure in
+turning over to Mr. Wallingford the combined bets of the Broadway
+Syndicate against that lovely little record-breaker, Whipsaw."
+
+"It's a good horse," said Wallingford with forced calmness, and then
+he began to chuckle, his broad shoulders shaking and his breast
+heaving; "and it was well named. I fawncy the Broadway Syndicate book
+will now go out of business--and with no chance to welch."
+
+"All we wise people knew about it," Blackie condescendingly explained
+to the quartet. "You see, I am running the National Clockers'
+Association."
+
+Before the voiceless Broadway Syndicate was through gasping over this
+piece of news, Jake Block came stalking through the grand-stand.
+Though elated over his victory and flushed with his winnings, he
+nevertheless had time to cast a bitter scowl in the direction of
+Beauty Phillips.
+
+"The next time I hand any woman a tip you may cut my arm off!" he
+declared. "I'm through with you!"
+
+"Who's that?" asked Larry Teller, glaring after the man who had
+mentioned the pregnant word "tip."
+
+"Jake Block, the owner of Whipsaw," Wallingford was pleased to inform
+him.
+
+"It's a frame-up!" shouted Billy Banting.
+
+A strong left hand clutched desperately at Blackie Daw's coat and tore
+the top button off, and an equally strong right hand grabbed into
+Blackie Daw's inside coat-pocket. It was empty, Pickins found, just as
+a stronger hand than his own gripped him until he winced with pain.
+
+"What have you done with the stakes?" shrieked Pickins, trying to
+throw off that grip, but not turning.
+
+"What's it your business? But, if you want to know, all that
+stake-money was bet in the shed and in the books about town--on
+Whipsaw to win!"
+
+The broad-shouldered man who had edged up quite near to them during
+the race, and who had interfered with Pickins, now stepped in front of
+the members of the defunct Broadway Syndicate. They only took one good
+look at him, and then fell back quite clamily. In the broad-shouldered
+giant they had recognized Harvey Willis, the quite capable Broadway
+policeman and friend of Wallingford, off for the day in his street
+clothes.
+
+"Run along, little ones, and play tricks on the ignorant country folks
+from Harlem and Flatbush," advised Beauty Phillips as she took
+Wallingford's arm and turned away with him. "You've been whipsawed!"
+
+She was exceptionally gracious to J. Rufus that evening, but for the
+first time in many days he was extremely thoughtful. A vague unrest
+possessed him and it grew as the Beauty became more gracious. He
+guessed that he could marry her if he wished, but somehow the idea did
+not please him as it might have done a few weeks earlier. He liked the
+Beauty perhaps even better than before, but somehow she was not quite
+the type of woman for him, and he had not realized it until she
+brought him face to face with the problem.
+
+"By the way," he said as he bid her good night, "I think I'll take a
+little run about the country for a while. I'm a whole lot tired of
+this man's town."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+ J. RUFUS SEEKS FOR PROFITABLE INVESTMENT IN
+ THE COUNTRY
+
+
+A rattling old carryall, drawn by one knobby yellow horse and driven
+by a decrepit patriarch of sixty, stopped with a groan and a creak and
+a final rattle at the door of the weather-beaten Atlas Hotel, and a
+grocery "drummer," a beardless youth with pink cheeks, jumped hastily
+out and rushed into the clean but bare little office, followed as
+hastily by a grizzled veteran of the road who sold dry-goods and
+notions and wore gaudy young clothes. Wallingford emerged much more
+slowly, as became his ponderous size. He was dressed in a green summer
+suit of ineffable fabric, wore green low shoes, green silk hose, a
+green felt hat, and a green bow tie, below which, in the bosom of his
+green silk negligee shirt, glowed a huge diamond. Richness and bigness
+were the very essence of him, and the aged driver, recognizing true
+worth when he saw it, gave a jerk at his dust-crusted old cap as he
+addressed him.
+
+"'Tain't no use to hurry now," he quavered. "Them other two'll have
+the good rooms."
+
+J. Rufus, from natural impulse, followed in immediately. There was no
+one behind the little counter, but the young grocery drummer, having
+hastily inspected the sparse entries of the preceding days, had
+registered himself for room two.
+
+"There ain't a single transient in the house, Billy," he said, turning
+to the dry-goods and notion salesman, "so I'll just put you down for
+number three."
+
+A buxom young woman came out of the adjoining dining-room, wiping her
+red hands and arms upon a water-spattered gingham apron.
+
+"Three of us, Molly," said the older salesman. "Hustle up the dinner,"
+and out of pure friendliness he started to chuck her under the chin,
+whereat she wheeled and slapped him a resounding whack and ran away
+laughing. This vigorous retort, being entirely expected, was passed
+without comment, and the two commercial travelers took off their coats
+to "wash up" at the tin basins in the corner. The aged driver,
+intercepting them to collect, came in to Wallingford, who, noting the
+custom, had already subscribed his name with a flourish upon the
+register.
+
+"Two shillin'," quavered the ancient one at his elbow.
+
+Wallingford gave him twice the amount he asked for, and the old man
+was galvanized into instant fluttering activity. He darted out of the
+door with surprising agility, and returned with two pieces of
+Wallingford's bright and shining luggage, which he surveyed reverently
+as he placed them in front of the counter. Two more pieces, equally
+rich, he brought, and on the third trip the proprietor's son, a brawny
+boy of fifteen, clad in hickory shirt, blue overalls and plow shoes,
+and with his sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, helped him in with
+Wallingford's big sole-leather dresser trunk.
+
+"Gee!" said the boy to Wallingford, beaming upon this array of
+expensive baggage. "What do you sell?"
+
+"White elephants, son," replied Wallingford, so gravely that the boy
+took two minutes to decide that the rich stranger was "fresh."
+
+It was not until dinner was called that any one displayed the least
+interest in the register, and then the proprietor, a tall, cowboy-like
+man, with drooping mustaches and a weather-browned face, came in with
+his trousers tucked into his top boots.
+
+"Hello, Joe! Hello, Billy!" he said, nodding to the two traveling men.
+"How's business?"
+
+"Rotten!" returned the grocery drummer.
+
+"Fine!" asserted the dry-goods salesman. "Our house hasn't done so
+much business in five years." _Sotto voce_, he turned to the young
+drummer. "Never give it away that business is on the bum," he said out
+of his years of experience.
+
+The tall proprietor examined the impressively groomed Wallingford and
+his impressive luggage with some curiosity, and went behind the little
+counter to inspect the register.
+
+"I'd like two rooms and a bath," said Wallingford, as the other looked
+up thoughtfully.
+
+"Two! Two?" repeated Jim Ranger, looking about the room. "Some ladies
+with you? Mother or sister, maybe?"
+
+"No," answered Wallingford, smiling. "A bedroom and sitting-room and a
+bath for myself."
+
+"Sitting-room?" repeated the proprietor. "You know, you can sit in
+this office till the 'leven-ten's in every night, and then the
+parlor's--" He hesitated, and, seeing the unresponsive look upon his
+guest's face, he added hastily: "Oh, well, I reckon I can fix it. We
+can move a bed out of number five, and I'll have the bath-tub and the
+water sent up as soon as you need it. This is wash-day, you know, and
+they've got the rinse water in it. I reckon you won't want it before
+to-night, though."
+
+"No," said J. Rufus quietly, and sighed.
+
+Immediately after lunch, J. Rufus, inquiring again for the proprietor,
+was told by Molly that he was in the barn, indicating its direction
+with a vague wave of her thumb. Wallingford went out to the enormous
+red barn, its timbers as firm as those of the hotel were flimsy, its
+lines as rigidly perpendicular as those of the hotel were out of
+plumb, its doors and windows as square-angled as those of the hotel
+were askew. Across its wide front doors, opening upon the same wide,
+cracked old stone sidewalk as the hotel, was a big sign kept fresh and
+bright: "J. H. Ranger, Livery and Sales Stable." Here Wallingford
+found the proprietor and the brawny boy in the middle of the wide barn
+floor, in earnest consultation over the bruised hock of a fine, big,
+draft horse.
+
+"I'd like to get a good team and a driver for this afternoon,"
+observed Wallingford.
+
+"You've come to the right place," declared Jim Ranger heartily, and
+when he straightened up he no longer looked awkward and out of place,
+as he had in the hotel office, but seemed a graceful part of the
+surrounding picture. "Bob, get out that little sorrel team and hitch
+it up to the new buggy for the gentleman," and as Bob sprang away with
+alacrity he turned to Wallingford. "They're not much to look at, that
+sorrel team," he explained, "but they can go like a couple of rats,
+all day, at a good, steady clip, up hill and down."
+
+"Fine," said Wallingford, who was somewhat of a connoisseur in horses,
+and he surveyed the under-sized, lithe-limbed, rough-coated sorrels
+with approval as they were brought stamping out of their stalls,
+though, as he climbed into his place, he regretted that they were not
+more in keeping with the handsome buggy.
+
+"Which way?" asked Bob, as he gathered up the reins.
+
+"The country just outside of town, in all directions," directed
+Wallingford briefly.
+
+"All right," said Bob with a click to the little horses, and
+clattering out of the door they turned to the right, away from the
+broad, shady street of old maples, and were almost at once in the
+country. For a mile or two there were gently undulating farms of rich,
+black loam, and these Wallingford inspected in careful turn.
+
+"Seems to be good land about here," he observed.
+
+"Best in the world," said the youngster. "Was you thinkin' of buyin'
+a farm?"
+
+Wallingford smiled and shook his head.
+
+"I scarcely think so," he replied.
+
+"'Twouldn't do you any good if you was," retorted Bob. "There ain't a
+farm hereabouts for sale."
+
+To prove it, he pointed out the extent of each farm, gave the name of
+its owner and told how much he was worth, to all of which Wallingford
+listened most intently.
+
+They had been driving to the east, but, coming to a fork in the road
+leading to the north, Bob took that turning without instructions,
+still chattering his local Bradstreet. Along this road was again rich
+and smiling farm land, but Wallingford, seeming throughout the drive
+to be eagerly searching for something, evinced a new interest when
+they came to a grove of slender, straight-trunked trees.
+
+"Old man Mescott gets a hundred gallons of maple syrup out of that
+grove every spring," said Bob in answer to a query. "He gets two
+dollars a gallon, then he stays drunk till plumb the middle of summer.
+Was you thinkin' of buyin' a maple grove?"
+
+Wallingford looked back in thoughtful speculation, but ended by
+shaking his head, more to himself than to Bob.
+
+They passed through a woods.
+
+"Good timber land, that," suggested Wallingford.
+
+"Good timber land! I should say it was," said Bob. "There's nigh a
+hundred big walnut trees back in there a ways, to say nothing of
+all the fine oak an' hick'ry, but old man Cass won't touch an ax
+to nothing but underbrush. He says he's goin' to will 'em to his
+grandchildren, and by the time they grow up it'll be worth their
+weight in money. Was you thinkin' of buyin' some timber land?"
+
+Wallingford again hesitated over that question, but finally stated
+that he was not.
+
+"Here's the north road back into town," said Bob, as they came to a
+cross-road, and as they gained the top of the elevation they could
+look down and see, a mile or so away, the little town, its gray roofs
+and red chimneys peeping from out its sheltering of green leaves.
+Just beyond the intersection the side of the hill had been cut away,
+and clean, loose gravel lay there in a broad mass. Wallingford had Bob
+halt while he inspected this.
+
+"Good gravel bank," he commented.
+
+"I reckon it is," agreed Bob. "They come clear over from Highville and
+from Appletown and even from Jenkins Corners to get that gravel, and
+Tom Kerrick dresses his whole family off of that bank. He wouldn't
+sell it for any money. Was you thinkin' of buying a gravel bank,
+mister?"
+
+Instead of replying Wallingford indicated another broken hillside
+farther on, where shale rock had slipped loosely down, like a
+disintegrated slate roof, to a seeping hollow.
+
+"Is that stone good for anything?" he asked.
+
+"Nothing in the world," replied Bob. "It rots right up. If you was
+thinkin' of buyin' a stone quarry now, there's a fine one up the north
+road yonder."
+
+Wallingford laughed and shook his head.
+
+"I wasn't thinking of buying a stone quarry," said he.
+
+Bob Ranger looked shrewdly and yet half-impatiently at the big young
+man by his side.
+
+"You're thinkin' o' buyin' somethin'; I know that," he opined.
+
+Wallingford chuckled and dropped his big, plump hand on the other's
+shoulder.
+
+"Elephant hay only," he kindly explained; "just elephant hay for white
+elephants," whereat the inquisitive Bob, mumbling something to himself
+about "freshness," relapsed into hurt silence.
+
+In this silence they passed far to the northwest of the town, and a
+much-gullied highway led them down toward the broader west road. Here
+again, as they headed straight in to Blakeville with their backs to
+the descending sun, were gently undulating farm lands, but about half
+a mile out of town they came to a wide expanse of black swamp, where
+cat-tails and calamus held sole possession. Before this swamp
+Wallingford paused in long and thoughtful contemplation.
+
+"Who owns this?" he asked.
+
+"Jonas Bubble," answered Bob, recovering cheerfully from his late
+rebuff. "Gosh! He's the richest man in these parts. Owns three hundred
+acres of this fine farmin' land we just passed, owns the mill down
+yander by the railroad station, has a hide and seed and implement
+store up-town, and lives in the finest house anywhere around
+Blakeville; regular city house. That's it, on ahead. Was you thinkin'
+o' buyin' some swamp land?"
+
+To this Wallingford made no reply. He was gazing backward over that
+useless little valley, its black waters now turned velvet crimson as
+they caught the slant of the reddening sun.
+
+"Here's Jonas Bubble's house," said Bob presently.
+
+It was the first house outside of Blakeville--a big, square,
+pretentious-looking place, with a two-story porch in front and a
+quantity of scroll-sawed ornaments on eaves and gables and ridges, on
+windows and doors and cornices, and with bright brass lightning-rods
+projecting upward from every prominence. At the gate stood,
+bare-headed, a dark-haired and strikingly pretty girl, with a rarely
+olive-tinted complexion, through which, upon her oval cheeks, glowed a
+clear, roseate under-tint. She was fairly slender, but well rounded,
+too, and very graceful.
+
+"Hello, Fannie!" called Bob, with a jerk at his flat-brimmed straw
+hat.
+
+"Hello, Bob!" she replied with equal heartiness, her bright eyes,
+however, fixed in inquiring curiosity upon the stranger.
+
+"That's Jonas Bubble's girl," explained Bob, as they drove on. "She's
+a good looker, but she won't spoon."
+
+Wallingford, grinning over the fatal defect in Fannie Bubble, looked
+back at the girl.
+
+"She would make a Casino chorus look like a row of Hallowe'en
+confectionery junk," he admitted.
+
+"Fannie, come right in here and get supper!" shrilled a harsh voice,
+and in the doorway of the Bubble homestead they saw an overly-plump
+figure in a green silk dress.
+
+"Gosh!" said Bob, and hit one of the little sorrel horses a vindictive
+clip. "That's Fannie's stepmother. Jonas Bubble married his hired girl
+two years ago, and now they don't hire any. She makes Fannie do the
+work."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+ WALLINGFORD SPECULATES IN THE CHEAPEST REAL
+ ESTATE PROCURABLE
+
+
+That evening, after supper, Wallingford sat on one of the broad,
+cane-seated chairs in front of the Atlas Hotel, smoking a big, black
+cigar from his own private store, and watched the regular evening
+parade go by. They came, two by two, the girls of the village, up one
+side of Maple Street, passed the Atlas Hotel, crossed over at the
+corner of the livery stable, went down past the Big Store and as far
+as the Campbellite church, where they crossed again and began a new
+round; and each time they passed the Atlas Hotel they giggled, or they
+talked loudly, or pushed one another, or did something to enlarge
+themselves in the transient eye. The grocery drummer and the dry-goods
+salesman sat together, a little aloof from J. Rufus, and presently
+began saying flippant things to the girls as they passed. A wake of
+giggles, after each such occasion, frothed across the street at the
+livery-stable corner, and down toward the Campbellite church.
+
+Molly presently slipped out of the garden gate and went down Maple
+Street by herself. Within twenty minutes she, too, had joined the
+parade, and with her was Fannie Bubble. As these passed the Atlas
+Hotel both the drummers got up.
+
+"Hello, Molly," said the grocery drummer. "I've been waiting for you
+since Hector was a pup," and he caught her arm, while the dry-goods
+salesman advanced a little uncertainly.
+
+"You 'tend to your own business, Joe Cling," ordered Molly, jerking
+her arm away, but nevertheless giving an inquiring glance toward her
+companion. That rigid young lady, however, was looking straight ahead.
+She was standing just in front of Wallingford.
+
+"Come on," coaxed the grocery drummer; "I don't bite. Grab hold there
+on the other side, Billy."
+
+Miss Bubble, however, was still looking so uncompromisingly straight
+ahead that Billy hesitated, and the willing enough Molly, seeing that
+the conference had "struck a snag," took matters into her own vigorous
+hands again.
+
+"You're too fresh," she admonished the grocery drummer. "Let go my
+arm, I tell you. Come on, Fannie," and she flounced away with her
+companion, turning into the gate of the hotel garden. Miss Fannie cast
+back a curious glance, not at the grocery drummer nor the veteran
+dry-goods salesman, but at the quiet J. Rufus.
+
+The discomfited transients gave short laughs of chagrin and went back
+to their seats, but the grocery drummer was too young to be daunted
+for long, and by the time another section or two of the giggling
+parade had passed them he was ready for a second attempt. One couple,
+a tall, thin girl and a short, chubby one, who had now made the
+circuit three times, came sweeping past again, exchanging with each
+other hilarious persiflage which was calculated to attract and tempt.
+
+"Wait a minute," said the grocery drummer to his companion.
+
+He dashed straight across the street, and under the shadow of the big
+elm intercepted the long and short couple. There was a parley in which
+the girls two or three times started to walk away, a further parley in
+which they consented to stand still, a loud male guffaw mingled with a
+succession of shrill giggles, then suddenly the grocery salesman
+called:
+
+"Come on, Billy!"
+
+The dry-goods man half rose from his chair and hesitated.
+
+"Come on, Billy!" again invited the grocery drummer. "We're going down
+to wade in the creek."
+
+A particularly high-pitched set of giggles followed this tremendous
+joke, and Billy, his timid scruples finally overcome, went across the
+street, a ridiculous figure with his ancient body and his youthful
+clothes. Nevertheless, Wallingford felt just a trifle lonesome as he
+watched his traveling companions of the afternoon go sauntering down
+the street in company which, if silly, was at least human. While he
+regretted Broadway, Bob Ranger, dressed no whit different from his
+attire of the afternoon, except that his sleeves were rolled down,
+came out of the hotel and stood for an undecided moment in front of
+the door.
+
+"Hello, Bob!" hailed Wallingford cordially, glad to see any face he
+knew. "Do you smoke?"
+
+"Reckon I do," said Bob. "I was thinkin' just this minute of walkin'
+down to Bud Hegler's for some stogies."
+
+"Sit down and have a cigar," offered Wallingford, producing a
+companion to the one he was then enjoying.
+
+Bob took that cigar and smelled it; he measured its length, its
+weight, and felt its firmness.
+
+"It ain't got any band on it, but I reckon that's a straight
+ten-center," he opined.
+
+"I'll buy all you can get me of that brand for a quarter apiece,"
+offered Wallingford.
+
+"So?" said Bob, looking at it doubtfully. "I reckon I'd better save
+this for Sunday."
+
+"No, smoke it now. I'll give you another one for Sunday," promised
+Wallingford, and he lit a match, whereupon Bob, biting the end off the
+cigar with his strong, white teeth, moistened it all over with his
+tongue to keep the curl of the wrapper down.
+
+With vast gratification he sat down to enjoy that awe-inspiring cigar,
+and, by way of being entertaining, uttered comment upon the passing
+parade--frank, ingeniously told bits of personal history which would
+have been startling to one who had imbibed the conventional idea that
+all country folk are without guile. Wallingford was not so much
+shocked by these revelations, however, as he might have been, for he
+had himself been raised in a country town, though one not so small as
+Blakeville.
+
+It was while Bob was in the midst of this more or less profane history
+that Molly and Fannie Bubble came out of the gate.
+
+"Come here, Molly," invited Bob; "I want to introduce you to a
+friend of mine. He's going to stop here quite a long time. Mr.
+Wallingford--Molly; Miss Bubble--Mr. Wallingford. Come on; let's
+all take a walk," and confidently taking Molly's arm he started up
+the crossing, leaving Miss Bubble to Wallingford.
+
+"It's a beautiful evening, isn't it?" said Fannie, as Wallingford
+caught step with her.
+
+Wallingford had to hark back. Time had been when the line of
+conversation which went with Miss Bubble's opening remark had been as
+familiar to him as his own safety razor, but of late he had been
+entertaining such characters as Beauty Phillips, and conversation with
+the Beauty had consisted of lightning-witted search through the ends
+of the earth and the seas therein for extravagant hyperbole and
+metaphor. Harking back was so difficult that J. Rufus gave it up.
+
+"Lovely evening," he admitted. "I've just been thinking about this
+weather. I've about decided to build a factory to put it up in boxes
+for the Chicago Market. They'd pay any price for it there in the
+fall."
+
+Miss Fannie considered this remark in silence for a moment, and then
+she laughed, a quiet, silvery laugh that startled J. Rufus by its
+musical quality.
+
+"I don't see why you should laugh," protested Wallingford gravely. "If
+a man can get a monopoly on weather-canning it would be even better
+than the sleep-factory idea I've been considering."
+
+"What was that like?" asked Fannie, interested in spite of the fact
+that these jokes were not at all the good old standards, which could
+be laughed at without the painful necessity of thought.
+
+"Well," Wallingford explained, "I figured on building an immense
+dormitory and hiring about a thousand fat hoboes to sleep for me night
+and day. Then I intended to take that sleep and condense it and put it
+up in eight-hour capsules for visitors to New York. There ought to be
+a fortune in that."
+
+Again a little silence and again that little silvery laugh which
+Wallingford found himself watching for.
+
+"You're so funny," said Miss Fannie.
+
+"For a long time I was divided between that and my anti-bum serum as a
+permanent investment," he went on, glancing down at her as he
+extended himself along the line which had seemed to catch her fancy.
+She was looking up at him, her eyes shining, her lips half parted in
+an anticipatory smile, and unconsciously her hand had crept upon his
+arm, where it lay warm and vibrant. "You know," he explained, "they
+inoculate a guinea-pig or a sheep or something with disease germs, and
+from this animal, somehow or other, they extract a serum which cures
+that disease. Well, I propose to get a herd of billy-goats boiling
+spifflicated, and extract from them the jag serum, and with that
+inoculate all the rounders on Broadway at so much per inoc. Then they
+can stand up in front of an onyx bar and guzzle till it oozes out of
+their ears, without any worse effects than a lifting pain in the right
+elbow."
+
+This time the laugh came more slowly, for here was a lot of language
+which, though refreshing, was tangled in knots that must be unraveled.
+Nevertheless, the laugh came, and at the sound of it Wallingford
+involuntarily pressed slightly against his side the hand that lay upon
+his arm. They were passing Hen Moozer's General Merchandise Emporium
+and Post-Office at the time, and upon the rickety porch, its posts,
+benches, and even floors whittled like a huge Rosetta stone, sat a
+group of five young men. Just after the couple had cleared the end of
+the porch a series of derisive meows broke out. It was the old protest
+of town boy against city boy, of work clothes against "Sunday duds,"
+of native against alien; and again J. Rufus harked back. It only
+provoked a smile in him, but he felt a sudden tenseness in the hand
+that lay upon his arm, and he was relieved when Bob and Molly, a half
+block ahead of them, turned hastily down a delightfully dark and shady
+cross street, in the shelter of which Bob immediately slipped his arm
+around Molly's waist. J. Rufus, pondering that movement and regarding
+it as the entirely conventional and proper one, essayed to do
+likewise; but Miss Fannie, discussing the unpleasant habit of her
+young townsmen with some indignation but more sense of humor, gently
+but firmly unwound J. Rufus' arm, placed it at his side and slipped
+her hand within it again without the loss of a syllable.
+
+Wallingford was surprised at himself. In the old days he would have
+fought out this issue and would have conquered. Now, however,
+something had made this bold young man of the world suddenly tame. He
+himself helped Miss Fannie to put him back upon grounds of friendly
+aloofness, and with a gasp he realized that for the first time in his
+life he had met a girl who had forced his entire respect. It was
+preposterous!
+
+Unaccountably, however, they seemed to grow more friendly after that,
+and the talk drifted to J. Rufus himself, the places he had seen, the
+adventures he had encountered, the richness of luxury that he had
+sought and found, and the girl listened with breathless eagerness.
+They did not go back to Maple Street just now, for the Maple Street
+parade was only for the unattached. Instead, they followed the others
+down to the depot and back, and after another half-hour _détour_
+through the quiet, shady street, they found Bob and Molly waiting for
+them at the corner.
+
+"Good night, Fannie," said Molly. "I'm going in. To-morrow's ironing
+day. Good night, Mr. Wallingford."
+
+"Good night," returned Miss Fannie, as a matter of course, and again
+Wallingford harked back. He was to take Miss Fannie home. Quite
+naturally. Why not?
+
+It was a long walk, but by no means too long, and when they had
+arrived at the big, fret-sawed house of Jonas Bubble, J. Rufus was
+sorry. He lingered a moment at the gate, but only a moment, for a
+woman's shrill voice called:
+
+"Is that you, Fannie? You come right in here and go to bed! Who's that
+with you?"
+
+"You'd better go right away, please," pleaded Fannie in a flutter.
+"I'm not allowed to be with strangers."
+
+This would have been the cue for a less adroit and diplomatic caller
+to hurry silently back up the street, and, as a matter of fact, this
+entirely conventional course was all that Mrs. Bubble had looked for.
+She was accordingly shocked when the gate opened, and in place of
+Fannie coming alone, J. Rufus, in spite of the girl's protest, walked
+deliberately up to the porch.
+
+"Is Mr. Bubble at home?" he asked with great dignity.
+
+Mrs. Bubble gasped.
+
+"I reckon he is," she admitted.
+
+"I'd like to see him, if possible."
+
+There was another moment of silence, in which Mrs. Bubble strove to
+readjust herself.
+
+"I'll call him," she said, and went in.
+
+Mr. Jonas Bubble, revealed in the light of the open door, proved to
+be a pursy man of about fifty-five, full of importance from his
+square-toed shoes to his gray sideburns; he exuded importance from
+every vest button upon the bulge of his rotundity, and importance
+glistened from the very top of his bald head.
+
+"I am J. Rufus Wallingford," said that broad-chested young gentleman,
+whose impressiveness was at least equal to Mr. Bubble's importance,
+and he produced a neatly-engraved card to prove the genuineness of his
+name. "I was introduced to your daughter at the hotel, and I came down
+to consult with you upon a little matter of business."
+
+"I usually transact business at my office," said Mr. Bubble pompously;
+"nevertheless, you may come inside."
+
+He led the way into a queer combination of parlor, library,
+sitting-room and study, where he lit a big, hanging gasolene lamp,
+opened his old swinging top desk with a key which he carefully and
+pompously selected from a pompous bunch, placed a plush-covered chair
+for his visitor, and seated himself upon an old leather-stuffed chair
+in front of the desk.
+
+"Now, sir," said he, swinging around to Wallingford and puffing out
+his cheeks, "I am ready to consider whatever you may have to say."
+
+Mr. Wallingford's first action was one well-calculated to inspire
+interest. First he drew out the desk slide at Mr. Bubble's left;
+then from his inside vest pocket he produced a large flat package
+of greenbacks, no bill being of less than a hundred dollars'
+denomination. From this pile he carefully counted out eight thousand
+dollars, and put the balance, which Mr. Bubble hastily estimated at
+about fifteen hundred, back in his pocket. This procedure having been
+conducted with vast and impressive silence, Mr. Wallingford cleared
+his throat.
+
+"I have come to ask a great favor of you," said he, sinking his
+voice to barely above a whisper. "I am a stranger here. I find,
+unfortunately, that there is no bank in Blakeville, and I have more
+money with me than I care to carry about. I learned that you are the
+only real man of affairs in the town, and have come to ask you if you
+would kindly make room for this in your private safe for a day or so."
+
+Mr. Bubble, rotating his thumbs slowly upon each other, considered
+that money in profound silence. The possessor of so much loose cash
+was a gentleman, a man to be respected.
+
+"With pleasure," said Mr. Bubble. "I don't myself like to have so much
+money about me, and I'd advise you, as soon as convenient, to take it
+up to Millford, where I do my banking. In the meantime, I don't blame
+you, Mr. Wallingford, for not wanting to carry this much money about
+with you, nor for hesitating to put it in Jim Ranger's old tin safe."
+
+"Thank you," said Wallingford. "I feel very much relieved."
+
+Mr. Bubble drew paper and pen toward him.
+
+"I'll write you a receipt," he offered.
+
+"Not at all; not at all," protested Wallingford, having gaged Mr.
+Bubble very accurately. "Between gentlemen such matters are entirely
+superfluous. By the way, Mr. Bubble, I see you have a large swamp on
+your land. Do you intend to let it lie useless for ever?"
+
+"What else can I do with it?" demanded Mr. Bubble, wondering. That
+swamp had always been there. Naturally, it would always be there.
+
+"You can't do very much with it," admitted Wallingford. "However, it
+is barely possible that I might see a way to utilize it, if the price
+were reasonable enough. What would you take for it?"
+
+This was an entirely different matter. Mr. Bubble pursed up his lips.
+
+"Well, I don't know. The land surrounding it is worth two hundred
+dollars an acre."
+
+Wallingford grinned, but only internally. He knew this to be a highly
+exaggerated estimate, but he let it pass without comment.
+
+"No doubt," he agreed; "but your swamp is worth exactly nothing
+per square mile; in fact, worth less than nothing. It is only a
+breeding-place of mosquitoes and malaria. How many acres does it
+cover?"
+
+"About forty."
+
+"I suppose ten dollars an acre would buy it?"
+
+"By no means," protested Mr. Bubble. "I wouldn't have a right of way
+split through my farm for four hundred dollars. Couldn't think of it."
+
+It was Wallingford's turn to be silent.
+
+"Tell you what I'll do," he finally began. "I think of settling down
+in Blakeville. I like the town from what I've seen of it, and I may
+make some important investments here."
+
+Mr. Bubble nodded his head gravely. A man who carried over eight
+thousand dollars surplus cash in his pocket had a right to talk that
+way.
+
+"The matter, of course," continued Wallingford, "requires considerable
+further investigation. In the meantime, I stand ready to pay you now a
+hundred dollars for a thirty-day option upon forty acres of your swamp
+land, the hundred to apply upon a total purchase price of one thousand
+dollars. Moreover, I'll make it a part of the contract that no
+enterprise be undertaken upon this ground without receiving your
+sanction."
+
+Mr. Bubble considered this matter in pompous silence for some little
+time.
+
+"Suppose we just reduce that proposition to writing, Mr. Wallingford,"
+he finally suggested, and without stirring from his seat he raised his
+voice and called: "Fannie!"
+
+In reply two voices approached the door, one sharp, querulous,
+nagging, the other, the younger and fresher voice, protesting; then
+the girl came in, followed closely by her stepmother. The girl looked
+at Wallingford brightly. He was the first young man who had bearded
+the lioness at Bubble Villa, and she appreciated the novelty. Mrs.
+Bubble, however, distinctly glared at him, though the eyes of both
+women roved from him to the pile of bills held down with a paper
+weight on Mr. Bubble's desk. Mr. Bubble made way for his daughter.
+
+"Write a little agreement for Mr. Wallingford and myself," directed
+Mr. Bubble, and dictated it, much to the surprise of the women, for
+Jonas always did his own writing. They did not understand that he,
+also, wished to make an impression.
+
+With a delicate flush of self-consciousness in her occupation Fannie
+wrote the option agreement, and later another document, acknowledging
+the receipt of eight thousand dollars to be held in trust. In exchange
+for the first paper J. Rufus gravely handed Mr. Bubble a
+hundred-dollar bill.
+
+"To-morrow," said he, "I shall drop around to see you at your office,
+to confer with you about my proposed enterprise."
+
+As Wallingford left the room, attended by the almost obsequious
+Bubble, he caught a lingering glance of interest, curiosity, and
+perhaps more, from the bright eyes of Fannie Bubble. Her stepmother,
+however, distinctly sniffed.
+
+Meanwhile, Wallingford, at the gate, turned for a moment toward the
+distant swamp where it lay now ebony and glittering silver in the
+moonlight, knitted his brows in perplexity, lit another of his black
+cigars, and strolled back to the hotel.
+
+What on earth should he do with that swamp, now that he had it?
+Something good ought to be hinged on it. Should he form a drainage
+company to restore it to good farming land? No. At best he could only
+get a hundred and fifty dollars an acre, or, say, six thousand dollars
+for the forty. The acreage alone was to cost him a thousand; no
+telling what the drainage would cost, but whatever the figure there
+would not be profit enough to hypothecate. And it was no part of
+Wallingford's intention to do any actual work. He was through for ever
+with drudgery; for him was only creation.
+
+What should he do with that swamp? As he thought of it, his mind's eye
+could see only its blackness. It was, after all, only a mass of dense,
+sticky, black mud!
+
+Still revolving this problem in mind, Wallingford went to his bedroom,
+where he had scarcely arrived when Bob Ranger followed him, his
+sleeves rolled up again and a pail of steaming water in each hand.
+
+"The old man said you was to have a bath when you come in," stated
+Bob. "How hot do you want it?"
+
+"I think I'll let it go till morning and have it cold," replied
+Wallingford, chuckling.
+
+"All right," said Bob. "It's your funeral and not mine. I'll just pour
+this in now and it'll get cool by morning."
+
+In the next room--wherein the bed had been hastily replaced by two
+chairs, an old horsehair lounge and a kitchen table covered with a red
+table-cloth--Wallingford found a huge tin bath-tub, shaped like an
+elongated coal scuttle, dingy white on the inside and dingy green on
+the outside, and battered full of dents.
+
+"How'd you get along?" asked Bob, pausing to wipe the perspiration
+from his brow after he had emptied the two pails of water into the
+tub.
+
+"All right," said Wallingford with a reminiscent smile.
+
+"Old Mrs. Bubble drive you off the place?"
+
+"No," replied Wallingford loftily. "I went in the house and talked a
+while."
+
+"Go on!" exclaimed Bob, the glow of admiration almost shining through
+his skin. "Say, you're a peach, all right! How do you like Fannie?"
+
+"She's a very nice girl," opined Wallingford.
+
+"Yes," agreed Bob. "She's getting a little old, though. She was
+twenty her last birthday. She'll be an old maid pretty soon, but it's
+her own fault."
+
+Then Bob went after more water, and Wallingford, seating himself at
+the table with paper and pencil, plunged into a succession of rambling
+figures concerning Jonas Bubble's black swamp; and he figured and
+puzzled far into the night, with the piquant face of Miss Fannie
+drifting here and there among the figures.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+ WHEREIN BLAKEVILLE HAS OPPORTUNITY TO BECOME
+ A GREAT ART CENTER
+
+
+The next morning Wallingford requisitioned the services of Bob and the
+little sorrel team again, and drove out to Jonas Bubble's swamp.
+Arrived there he climbed the fence, and, taking a sliver of fence rail
+with him, gravely prodded into the edge of the swamp in various
+places, hauling it up in each case dripping with viscid black mud,
+which he examined with the most minute care, dropping tiny drops upon
+the backs of clean cards and spreading them out smoothly with the tip
+of his finger, while he looked up into the sky inquiringly, not one
+gesture of his conduct lost upon the curious Bob.
+
+When he climbed back into the buggy, Bob, finding it impossible longer
+to restrain his quivering curiosity, asked him:
+
+"What's it good for?"
+
+"I can't tell you just yet," said Wallingford kindly, "but if it is
+what I think it is, Bob, I've made a great discovery, one that I am
+sure will not only increase my wealth but add greatly to the riches of
+Blakeville. Do you know where I could find Jonas Bubble at this hour?"
+
+"Down at the mill, sure."
+
+"Drive down there."
+
+As they drove past Jonas Bubble's house they saw Miss Fannie on the
+back porch, in an old wrapper, peeling potatoes, and heard the sharp
+voice of the second Mrs. Bubble scolding her.
+
+"Say," said Bob, "if that old rip was my stepmother I'd poke her
+head-first into that swamp back yonder."
+
+Wallingford shook his head.
+
+"She'd turn it black," he gravely objected.
+
+"Why, it is black," protested Bob, opening his eyes in bewilderment.
+
+In reply to this Wallingford merely chuckled. Bob, regarding him in
+perplexity for a while, suddenly saw that this was a joke, and on the
+way to the mill he snickered a score of times. Queer chap, this
+Wallingford; rich, no doubt, and smart as a whip; and something
+mysterious about him, too!
+
+Wallingford found Jonas Bubble in flour-sifted garments in his office,
+going over a dusty file of bills.
+
+"Mr. Bubble," said he, "I have been down to your swamp and have
+investigated its possibilities. I am now prepared, since I have
+secured the right to purchase this land, to confide to you the
+business search in which I have for some time been engaged, and which
+now, I hope, is concluded. Do you know, Mr. Bubble, the valuable
+deposit I think I have found in my swamp?"
+
+"No!" ejaculated Bubble, stricken solemn by the confidential tone.
+"What is it?"
+
+Wallingford took a long breath, swelling out his already broad chest,
+and, leaning over most impressively, tapped his compelling finger upon
+Jonas Bubble's knee. Then said he, with almost tragic earnestness:
+
+"_Black Mud!_"
+
+Jonas Bubble drew back astounded, eying Wallingford with affrighted
+incredulity. He had thought this young man sane.
+
+"Black--" he gasped; "black--" and then hesitated.
+
+"_Mud!_" finished Wallingford for him, more impressively than before.
+"High and low, far and near, Mr. Bubble, I have searched for a deposit
+of this sort. Wherever there was a swamp I have been, but never until
+I came to Blakeville did I find what I believe to be the correct
+quality of black mud."
+
+"Black mud," repeated Jonas Bubble meaninglessly, but awed in spite of
+himself.
+
+"_Etruscan_ black mud," corrected Wallingford. "The same rare earth
+out of which the world famous Etruscan pottery is manufactured in the
+little village of Etrusca, near Milan, Italy. The smallest objects of
+this beautiful jet-black pottery retail in this country from ten
+dollars upward. With your permission I am going to express some
+samples of this deposit to the world-famous pottery designer, Signor
+Vittoreo Matteo, formerly in charge of the Etruscan Pottery, but who
+is now in Boston waiting with feverish impatience for me to find a
+suitable deposit of this rare black mud. If I have at last found it,
+Mr. Bubble, I wish to congratulate you and Blakeville, as well as
+myself, upon the acquisition of an enterprise which will not only
+reflect vast credit on your charming and progressive little town, but
+will bring it a splendid accession of wealth."
+
+Mr. Bubble rose from his chair and shook hands with young Wallingford
+in great, though pompous, emotion.
+
+"My son," said he, "go right ahead. Take all of it you want--that
+is," he hastily corrected himself, "all you need for experimental
+purposes." For, he reflected, there was no need to waste any of the
+rare and valuable Etruscan black mud. "I think I'll go with you."
+
+"I'd be pleased to have you," said Wallingford, as, indeed, he was.
+
+On the way, Wallingford stopped at Hen Moozer's General Merchandise
+Emporium and Post-Office, where he bought a large tin pail with a
+tight cover, a small tin pail and a long-handled garden trowel which
+he bent at right angles; and seven people walked off of Hen Moozer's
+porch into the middle of the street to see the town magnate and the
+resplendent stranger, driven by the elated Bob Ranger, whirl down
+Maple Street toward Jonas Bubble's swamp.
+
+Arrived there, who so active in direction as Jonas Bubble?
+
+"Bob," he ordered, protruding his girth at least three inches beyond
+its normal position, "hitch those horses and jump over in the field
+here with us. Mr. Wallingford, you will want this sample from
+somewhere near the center of the swamp. Bob, back yonder beyond that
+clump of bushes you will find that old flatboat we had right after
+the big rainy season. Hunt around down there for a long pole and pole
+out some place near the middle. Take this shovel and dig down and get
+mud enough to fill these two buckets."
+
+Bob stood unimpressed. It was not an attractive task.
+
+"And Bob," added Wallingford mildly, "here's a dollar, and I know
+where there's another."
+
+"Sure," said Bob with the greatest of alacrity, and he hurried back to
+where the old flatboat, water-soaked and nearly as black as the swamp
+upon which it rested, was half submerged beyond the clump of bushes.
+When, after infinite labor, he had pushed that clumsy craft afloat
+upon the bosom of the shallow swamp, Mr. Bubble was on the spot with
+infinite direction. He told Bob, shouting from the shore, just where
+to proceed and how, down to the handling of each trowelful of dripping
+mud, and even to the emptying of each small pailful into the large
+pail.
+
+"I don't know exactly how I'll get this boxed for shipping," hinted
+Wallingford, as Bob carried the pail laboriously back to the buggy.
+
+"Right down at the mill," invited Mr. Bubble with great cordiality.
+"I'll have my people look after it for you."
+
+"That's very kind of you," replied Wallingford. "I'll give you the
+address," and upon the back of one of his own cards he wrote: Sig.
+Vittoreo Matteo, 710 Marabon Building, Boston, Mass., U. S. A., care
+Horace G. Daw.
+
+That night he wrote a careful letter of explanation to Horace G. Daw.
+
+Two weeks to wait. Oh, well, Wallingford could amuse himself by
+working up a local reputation. It was while he was considering this,
+upon the following day, that a farmer with three teeth drove up in a
+dilapidated spring-wagon drawn by a pair of beautiful bay horses, and
+stopped in front of Jim Ranger's livery and sales stable to talk hay.
+Wallingford, sitting in front of the hotel in lazy meditation, walked
+over and examined the team with a critical eye. They were an exquisite
+match, perfect in every limb, with manes and tails and coats of that
+peculiar silken sheen belonging to perfect health and perfect care.
+
+"Very nice team you have," observed Wallingford.
+
+"Finest match team anywhere," agreed Abner Follis, plucking at his
+gray goatee and mouthing a straw, "an' I make a business o' raisin'
+thoroughbreds. Cousins, they are, an' without a blemish on 'em. An'
+trot--you'd ought to see that team trot."
+
+"What'll you take for them?" asked Wallingford.
+
+The response of Abner Follis was quick and to the point. He kept a
+careful appraisement upon all his live stock.
+
+"Seven hundred and fifty," said he, naming a price that allowed ample
+leeway for dickering.
+
+It was almost a disappointment to him that Wallingford produced his
+wallet, counted over the exact amount that had been asked, and said
+briefly:
+
+"Unhitch them."
+
+"Well!" said Abner, slowly taking the money and throwing away his
+straw in petulance. It was dull and uninteresting to have a bargain
+concluded so quickly.
+
+Wallingford, however, knew what he was about. Within an hour everybody
+in town knew of his purchase. Speculation that had been mildly active
+concerning him now became feverish. He was a rich nabob with money to
+throw away; had so much money that he would not even dicker in a horse
+deal--and this was the height of human recklessness in Blakeville.
+Wallingford, purchasing Jim Ranger's new buggy and his best set of
+harness, drove to the Bubbles', the eyed of all observers, but before
+he had opened the gate Mrs. Bubble was on the porch.
+
+"Jonas ain't at home," she shrilled down at him.
+
+"Yes, I know," replied Wallingford; "but I came to see Miss Fannie."
+
+"She's busy," said Mrs. Bubble with forbidding loftiness. "She's in
+the kitchen getting dinner."
+
+Wallingford, however, strode quite confidently up the walk, and by the
+time he reached the porch Miss Fannie was in the door, removing her
+apron.
+
+"What a pretty turnout!" she exclaimed.
+
+"It's a beauty," agreed Wallingford. "I just bought it from Abner
+Follis."
+
+She smiled.
+
+"I bet he beat you in the bargain."
+
+"So long as I'm satisfied," retorted Wallingford, smiling back at her,
+"I don't see why we shouldn't all be happy. Come on and take the first
+ride in it."
+
+She glanced at her stepmother dubiously.
+
+"I'm very busy," she replied; "and I'd have to change my dress."
+
+"You look good enough just as you are," he insisted. "Come right on.
+Mrs. Bubble can finish the dinner. I'll bet she's a better cook,
+anyhow," and he laughed cordially.
+
+The remark was intended as a compliment, but Mrs. Bubble took distinct
+umbrage. This was, without doubt, a premeditated slur. Of course he
+knew that she had once been Mr. Bubble's cook!
+
+"Fannie can't go," she snapped.
+
+Wallingford walked straight up to Mrs. Bubble, beaming down upon her
+from his overawing height; and for just one affrighted moment Fannie
+feared that he intended to uptilt her stepmother's chin, or make some
+equally familiar demonstration. Instead, he only laughed down into
+that lady's belligerent eyes.
+
+"Yes, she can," he insisted with large persuasiveness. "You were young
+once yourself, Mrs. Bubble, and not so very long ago."
+
+It was not what he said, but his jovial air of secret understanding,
+that made Mrs. Bubble flush and laugh nervously and soften.
+
+"Oh, I reckon I can get along," she said.
+
+Miss Fannie, with a wondering glance at Wallingford, had already flown
+up-stairs, and J. Rufus set himself deliberately to be agreeable to
+Mrs. Bubble. When Fannie came tripping down again in an incredibly
+short space of time, having shaken herself out of one frock and into
+another with an expedition which surprised even herself, she found her
+stepmother actually giggling! And when the young couple drove away in
+the bright, shining new rig behind the handsome bays, Mrs. Bubble
+watched after them with something almost like wistfulness. She had
+been young herself, once--and not so very long ago!
+
+Opposite the Bubble swamp Wallingford stopped for a moment.
+
+"I hope to be a very near neighbor of yours," said he, waving his hand
+out toward the wonderful deposit of genuine Etruscan black mud. "Did
+your father tell you about the pottery studios which may be built
+here?"
+
+"Not a thing," she confessed with a slightly jealous laugh. "Papa
+never tells us anything at home. We'll hear it on the street, no
+doubt, as we usually do."
+
+"Your father is a most estimable man, but I fear he makes a grave
+mistake in not telling you about things," declared Wallingford. "I
+believe in the value of a woman's intuition, and if I were as closely
+related to you as your father I am sure I should confide all my
+prospects to you."
+
+Miss Fannie gave a little inward gasp. That serious tide in the talk,
+fraught with great possibilities, for which every girl longs and which
+every girl dreads, was already setting ashore.
+
+"You might get fooled," she said. "Father don't think any woman has
+very much gumption, and least of all me, since--since he married
+again."
+
+"I understand," said Wallingford gently, and drove on. "Just to show
+you how _much_ differently I look at things from your father, I'm
+going to tell you all about the black pottery project and see what you
+think of it."
+
+Thereupon he explained to her in minute detail, a wealth of which came
+to him on the spur of the moment, the exact workings of the Etruscan
+pottery art. He painted for her, in the gray of stone and the yellow
+of face brick and the red of tiling, the beautiful studio buildings
+that were to be erected yonder facing the swamp; he showed her through
+cozy, cheerfully lighted apartments in those studios, where the best
+trained artists of Europe, under the direction of the wizard, Vittoreo
+Matteo, should execute ravishments of Etruscan black pottery; he
+showed her, as the bays pranced on, connoisseurs and collectors
+coming from all over the country to visit the Blakeville studios,
+and carrying away priceless gems of the ceramic art at incalculable
+prices!
+
+The girl drank in all these details with thirsty avidity.
+
+"It's splendid! Perfectly grand!" she assured him with vast
+enthusiasm, and in her memory was stored every precious word that this
+genius had said; and they were stored in logical order, ready to
+reproduce on the slightest provocation, which was precisely the result
+which Wallingford had intended to produce.
+
+It was nearing noon now, and making a _détour_ by the railway road
+they drove up in front of the mill with the spanking bays just as
+Jonas Bubble was coming out of his office to go to dinner. Hilariously
+they invited him into the carriage, and in state drove him home.
+
+Wallingford very wisely kept away from the Bubble home that afternoon
+and that evening, and by the next morning every woman in town had told
+all her men-folk about the vast Etruscan black pottery project!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+ WALLINGFORD BEGINS TO UTILIZE THE WONDERFUL
+ ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD
+
+
+Wallingford was just going in to dinner when a tall, thin-visaged
+young lady, who might have been nearing thirty, but insisted on all
+the airs and graces of twenty, came boldly up to the Atlas Hotel in
+search of him, and, by her right of being a public character,
+introduced herself. She was Miss Forsythe, principal over one other
+teacher in the Blakeville public school; moreover, she was president
+of the Women's Culture Club!
+
+"It is about the latter that I came to see you, Mr. Wallingford," she
+said, pushing back a curl which had been carefully trained to be
+wayward. "The Women's Culture Club meets this coming Saturday
+afternoon at the residence of Mrs. Moozer. It just happens that we are
+making an exhaustive study of the Italian Renaissance, and we have
+nothing, _positively nothing_, about the renaissance of Italian
+ceramics! I beg of you, Mr. Wallingford, I plead with you, to be our
+guest upon that afternoon and address us upon Etruscan Pottery."
+
+Wallingford required but one second to adjust himself to this new
+phase. This was right where he lived. He could out-pretend anybody who
+ever made pretensions to having a pretense. He expanded his broad
+chest and beamed.
+
+He knew but little about art, being only the business man of the
+projected American Etruscan Black Pottery Studios, but he would be
+more than pleased to tell them that little. He would, in fact, be
+charmed!
+
+"You don't know how kind, how good you are, and what a treat your
+practical talk will be, I am sure," gurgled Miss Forsythe, biting
+first her upper lip and then her lower to make them redder, and then,
+still gurgling, she swept away, leaving Wallingford chuckling.
+
+Immediately after lunch he went over to the telegraph office and wired
+to the most exclusive establishment of its sort in New York:
+
+     Express three black pottery vases Etruscan preferred but
+     most expensive you have one eighteen inches high and two
+     twelve inches high am wiring fifty dollars to insure
+     transportation send balance C. O. D.
+
+Not the least of J. Rufus' smile was that inserted clause, "Etruscan
+preferred." He had not the slightest idea that there was such pottery
+as Etruscan in the world, but his sage conclusion was that the big
+firm would think they had overlooked something; and his other clause,
+"most expensive you have," would insure proper results. That night he
+wrote to Blackie Daw:
+
+     Whatever you do, don't buy vase either twelve or eighteen
+     inches high. Send one about nine.
+
+Saturday morning the package came, and the excess bill was two hundred
+and forty-five dollars, exclusive of express charges, all of which J.
+Rufus cheerfully paid. He had that box delivered unopened to the
+residence of Mrs. Henry Moozer. That afternoon he dressed himself with
+consummate care, his gray frock suit and his gray bow tie, his gray
+waistcoat and his gray spats, by some subtle personality he threw
+about them, conveying delicately the idea of an ardent art amateur,
+but an humble one, because he felt himself insufficiently gifted to
+take part in actual creation.
+
+Was Miss Forsythe there? Miss Forsythe was there, in her pink silk,
+with cascade after cascade of ruffled flounces to take away the
+appalling height and thinness of her figure. Was Mrs. Moozer there?
+Dimly discernible, yes, backed into a corner and no longer mistress of
+her own house, though ineffectually trying to assert herself above a
+determined leadership. Also were there Mrs. Ranger, who was trying
+hard to learn to dote; Mrs. Priestly, who prided herself on a marked
+resemblance to Madame Melba, and had a high C which shattered
+chandeliers; and Mrs. Hispin, whose troublesome mustache in nowise
+interfered with her mad passion for the collection of antiques, which,
+fortunately consisting of early chromos, could be purchased cheaply in
+the vicinity of Blakeville; and Mrs. Bubble, whose specialty was the
+avoidance of all subjects connected with domestic science. Many other
+equally earnest and cultured ladies flocked about J. Rufus, as bees
+around a buckwheat blossom, until the capable and masterly president,
+by a careful accident arranging her skirts so that one inch of silken
+hose was visible, tapped her little silver gavel for order.
+
+There ensued the regular reports of committees, ponderous and grave in
+their frivolity; there ensued unfinished business--relating to a
+disputed sum of thirty-nine cents; there ensued new business--relating
+to a disputed flaw in the constitution; there ensued a discussion of
+scarcely repressed acidity upon the right of the president to
+interfere in committee work; and then the gurgling president--with
+many a reference to the great masters in Italian art, with a wide
+digression into the fields of ceramics in general and of Italian
+ceramics in particular, with a complete history of the plastic arts
+back to the ooze stage of geological formation--introduced the speaker
+of the day.
+
+J. Rufus, accepting gracefully his prominence, bowed extravagantly
+three times in response to the Chautauqua salute, and addressed those
+nineteen assembled ladies with a charming earnestness which did vast
+credit to himself and to the Italian ceramic renaissance. He invented
+for them on the spot a history of Etruscan pottery, a process of
+making it, a discovery of the wonderful Etruscan under-glaze, and the
+eye-moistening struggles and triumphs of the great Vittoreo Matteo
+from obscurity as a poor little barefooted Italian shepherd boy who
+was caught constructing wonderful figures out of plain mud.
+
+He regretted very much that he had been unable to secure, at such
+short notice, samples of the famous Etruscan pottery which this same
+Vittoreo Matteo had made famous, but he had secured the next best
+thing, and with renewed apologies to Mrs. Moozer, who had kindly
+consented to have a litter made upon her carpet, he would unpack the
+vases which had come that morning. With a fine eye for stage effect,
+Wallingford had had the covers of the boxes loosened, but had not had
+the excelsior removed. Now he had the box brought in and placed it
+upon the table, and then, from amid their careful wrappings, the
+precious vases were lifted!
+
+"Ah!"--"How _ex_-quisite!"--"Bee-yewtiful!" Such was the chorus of the
+enraptured culture club.
+
+Wallingford, smiling in calm triumph, was able to assure the almost
+fainting worshipers that these were but feeble substitutes for the
+exquisite creations that were shortly to be turned out in the studios
+that were to make Blakeville famous. Yes, he might now promise them
+that definitely! The matter was no longer one of conjecture. That
+very morning he had received an epoch-making letter from the
+great Vittoreo Matteo! This letter he read. It fairly exuded with
+tears--warm, emotional, Latin tears of joy--over the discovery of this
+priceless, this glorious, this beatific black mud! Already the great
+Vittoreo was at work upon the sample sent him, modeling a vase after
+one of his own famous shapes of Etrusca. It would soon be completed,
+he would have it fired, and then he would send it to his dear
+friend and successful manager, so that he might himself judge how
+inexpressibly more than perfect was the wonderful mud of Blakeville.
+
+[Illustration: "How _ex_-quisite!"--"Bee-yewtiful!" chorused the
+culture club]
+
+Mr. Wallingford was himself transported to nearly as ecstatic heights
+over the prospect as the redoubtable Vittoreo Matteo, and as a memento
+of this auspicious day he begged to present the largest of these vases
+to the Women's Culture Club, to be in the keeping of its charming
+president. One of the smaller vases he begged to present to the
+hostess of the afternoon in token of the delightful hour he had spent
+in that house. The other he retained to present to a very gracious
+matron, the hospitality of whose home he had already enjoyed, and with
+whose eminent husband he had already held the most pleasant business
+relations; whereat Mrs. Jonas Bubble fairly wriggled lest her
+confusion might not be seen or correctly interpreted.
+
+Close upon the frantic applause which followed these graceful
+gifts, pale tea and pink wafers were served by the Misses Priestly,
+Hispin, Moozer and Bubble, and the function was over except for the
+fluttering. Inadvertently, almost apparently quite inadvertently, when
+he went away, J. Rufus left behind him the crumpled C. O. D. bill
+which he had held in his hand while talking. That night Blakeville,
+from center to circumference, was talking of nothing but the prices
+of Etruscan vases. Why, these prices were not only stupendous, they
+were impossible--and yet there was the receipted bill! To think that
+anybody would pay real money in such enormous dole for mere earthen
+vases! It was preposterous; it was incredible--and yet there was the
+bill! Visions of wealth never before grasped by the minds of the
+citizens of Blakeville began to loom in the immediate horizon of every
+man, woman and child, and over all these visions of wealth hovered the
+beneficent figure of J. Rufus Wallingford.
+
+On Sunday J. Rufus, in solemn black frock-coat and shiny top hat,
+attended church. From church he went to the Bubble home, by the warm
+invitation of Jonas, for chicken dinner, and in the afternoon he took
+Miss Fannie driving behind the handsome bays. While she was making
+ready, however, he took Jonas Bubble in the rig and drove down to the
+swamp, where they paused in solemn, sober contemplation of that vast
+and beautiful expanse of Etruscan black mud. Mr. Bubble had, of
+course, seen the glowing letter of Vittoreo Matteo shortly after its
+arrival, and he was not unprepared for J. Rufus' urgency.
+
+"To-morrow," said J. Rufus, as he swept his hand out over the swamp
+with pride of possession, "to-morrow I shall exercise my option;
+to-morrow I shall begin drainage operations; to-morrow I shall order
+plans prepared for the first wing of the Blakeville Etruscan Studios,"
+and he pointed out a spot facing the Bubble mansion. "Only one thing
+worries me. In view of the fact that we shall have a large pay-roll
+and handle considerable of ready cash, I regret that Blakeville has no
+bank. Moreover, it grates upon me that the thriving little city of my
+adoption must depend on a smaller town for all its banking facilities.
+Why don't you start a bank, Mr. Bubble, and become its president? If
+you will start a subscription list to-morrow I'll take five thousand
+dollars' worth of stock myself."
+
+To become the president of a bank! That was an idea which had not
+previously presented itself to the pompous Mr. Bubble, but now that it
+had arrived it made his waistband uncomfortable. Well, the town needed
+a bank, and a bank was always profitable. His plain civic duty lay
+before him. President Bubble, of the Blakeville Bank; or, much better
+still, the Bubble Bank! Why not? He was already the most important man
+in the community, and his name carried the most weight. President
+Bubble, of the Bubble Bank! By George! It was a good idea!
+
+Meanwhile, a clean, clear deed and title to forty acres of Jonas
+Bubble's black mud was recorded in the Blake County court-house, and
+J. Rufus went to the city, returning with a discreet engineer, who
+surveyed and prodded and waded, and finally installed filtration boxes
+and a pumping engine; and all Blakeville came down to watch in solemn
+silence the monotonous jerks of the piston which lifted water from the
+swamp faster than it flowed in. For hours they stood, first on one
+foot and then on the other, watching the whir of the shining
+fly-wheel, the exhaust of the steam, the smoke of the stack, and the
+gushing of the black water through the big rubber nozzle to the
+stream which had heretofore merely trickled beneath the rickety wooden
+road culvert. It watched in awed silence the slow recession of waters,
+the appearance of unexpected little lakes and islands and slimy
+streams in the shining black bottom of that swamp.
+
+On the very day, too, that this work was installed, there came from
+Vittoreo Matteo, in Boston, the Etruscan vase. Wallingford, opening it
+in the privacy of his own room, was intensely relieved to find that
+Blackie had bought one of entirely different shape and style of
+decoration from those he had already shown, and he sent it immediately
+to the house of Mrs. Hispin, where that week's meeting of the Women's
+Culture Club was being held. He followed it with his own impressive
+self to show them the difference between the high-grade Etruscan ware
+and the inferior ware he had previously exhibited. He placed the two
+pieces side by side for comparison. Though they had been made by the
+same factory, the ladies of the Women's Culture Club one and all could
+see the enormous difference in the exquisiteness of the under-glaze.
+The Etruscan ware was infinitely superior, and just think! this
+beautiful vase was made from Blakeville's own superior article of
+black mud!
+
+Up in Hen Moozer's General Merchandise Emporium and Post-Office
+Wallingford arranged for a show window, and from behind its dusty
+panes he had the eternal pyramid of fly-specked canned goods removed.
+In its place he constructed a semi-circular amphitheater of pale blue
+velvet, bought from Moozer's own stock, and in its center he placed
+the priceless bit of Etruscan ware, the first splendid art object from
+the to-be-famous Blakeville Etruscan studios!
+
+In the meantime, Jonas Bubble had found willing subscribers to the
+stock of the Bubble Bank, and already was installing an impregnable
+vault in his vacant brick building at the intersection of Maple Avenue
+and Blake Street. By this time every citizen had a new impulse of
+civic pride, and vast commercial expansion was planned by every
+business man in Blakeville. Even the women felt the contagion, and it
+was one of the sorrows of Miss Forsythe's soul that her vacation
+arrangements had already been made for the summer, and that she should
+be compelled to go away even for a short time, leaving all this
+inspiriting progress behind her. It would be just like Mrs. Moozer to
+take advantage of the situation! Mrs. Moozer was vice-president of the
+Women's Culture Club.
+
+The Bubble County Bank collected its funds, took possession of its new
+quarters and made ready for business. Jonas Bubble, changing his
+attire to a frock suit for good and all, became its president. J.
+Rufus had also been offered an office in the bank, but he declined. A
+directorship had been urged upon him, but he steadfastly refused, with
+the same firmness that he had denied to Jonas Bubble a share in his
+pottery or even his drainage project. No, with his five thousand
+dollars' worth of stock he felt that he was taking as great a share as
+a stranger might, with modesty, appropriate to himself in their
+municipal advancement. Let the honors go to those who had grown up
+with the city, and who had furnished the substantial nucleus upon
+which their prosperity and advancement might be based.
+
+He intended, however, to make free use of the new banking facilities,
+and by way of showing the earnestness of that intention he drew
+from his New York bank half of the sum he had cleared on his big
+horse-racing "frame up," and deposited these funds in the Bubble Bank.
+True enough, three days after, he withdrew nearly the entire amount
+by draft in favor of one Horace G. Daw, of Boston, but a week later he
+deposited a similar amount from his New York bank, then increased that
+with the amount previously withdrawn in favor of Horace G. Daw. A few
+days later he withdrew the entire account, replaced three-fourths of
+it and drew out one-half of that, and it began to be talked about all
+over the town that Wallingford's enterprises were by no means confined
+to his Blakeville investments. He was a man of large financial
+affairs, which required the frequent transfer of immense sums of
+money. To keep up this rapid rotation of funds, Wallingford even
+borrowed money which Blackie Daw had obtained in the same horse-racing
+enterprise. Sometimes he had seventy-five thousand dollars in the
+Bubble Bank, and sometimes his balance was less than a thousand.
+
+In the meantime, J. Rufus allowed no opportunities for his reputation
+to become stale. In the Atlas Hotel he built a model bath-room which
+was to revert to Jim Ranger, without money and without price, when
+Wallingford should leave, and over his bath-tub he installed an
+instantaneous heater which was the pride and delight of the village.
+It cost him a pretty penny, but he got tenfold advertising from it.
+By the time this sensation had begun to die he was able to display
+drawings of the quaint and pretty vine-clad Etruscan studio, and to
+start men to digging trenches for the foundations!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+ THE GREAT VITTOREO MATTEO, MASTER OF BLACK
+ MUD, ARRIVES! BRAVA! HE DEPARTS! BRAVA!
+
+
+One day a tall, slender, black-haired, black-mustached and black-eyed
+young man, in a severely ministerial black frock suit, dropped off the
+train and inquired in an undoubted foreign accent for the Atlas Hotel.
+Even the station loungers recognized him at once as the great and
+long-expected artist, Signor Vittoreo Matteo, who, save in the one
+respect of short hair, was thoroughly satisfying to the eye and
+imagination. Even before the spreading of his name upon the register
+of the Atlas Hotel, all Blakeville knew that he had arrived.
+
+In the hotel office he met J. Rufus. Instantly he shrieked for joy,
+embraced Wallingford, kissed that discomfited gentleman upon both
+cheeks and fell upon his neck, jabbering in most broken English his
+joy at meeting his dear, dear friend once more. In the privacy of
+Wallingford's own room, Wallingford's dear Italian friend threw
+himself upon the bed and kicked up his heels like a boy, stuffing the
+corner of a pillow in his mouth to suppress his shrieks of laughter.
+
+"Ain't I the regular buya-da-banan Dago for fair?" he demanded,
+without a trace of his choice Italian accent.
+
+"Blackie," rejoiced Wallingford, wiping his eyes, "I never met your
+parents, but I've a bet down that they came from Naples as ballast in
+a cattle steamer. But I'm afraid you'll strain yourself on this. Don't
+make it too strong."
+
+"I'll make Salvini's acting as tame as a jointed crockery doll,"
+asserted Blackie. "This deal is nuts and raisins to me; and say, J.
+Rufus, your sending for me was just in the nick of time. Just got a
+tip from a post-office friend that the federal officers were going to
+investigate my plant, so I'm glad to have a vacation. What's this new
+stunt of yours, anyhow?"
+
+"It's a cinch," declared Wallingford, "but I don't want to scramble
+your mind with anything but the story of your own life."
+
+To his own romantic, personal history, as Vittoreo Matteo, and to the
+interesting fabrications about the world-famous Etruscan pottery, in
+the village of Etrusca, near Milan, Italy, Blackie listened most
+attentively.
+
+"All right," said he at the finish; "I get you. Now lead me forth to
+the merry, merry villagers."
+
+Behind the spanking bays which had made Fannie Bubble the envied of
+every girl in Blakeville, Wallingford drove Blackie forth. Already
+many of the faithful had gathered at the site of the Blakeville
+Etruscan Studios in anticipation of the great Matteo's coming, and
+when the tall, black-eyed Italian jumped out of the buggy they fairly
+quivered with gratified curiosity. How well he looked the part! If
+only he had had long hair! The eyes of the world-famous Italian
+ceramic expert, however, were not for the assembled denizens of
+Blakeville; they were only for that long and eagerly desired deposit
+of Etruscan soil. He leaped from the buggy; he dashed through the gap
+in the fence; he rushed to the side of that black swamp, the edges of
+which had evaporated now until they were but a sticky mass, and said:
+
+"Oh, da g-r-r-a-a-n-da mod!"
+
+Forthwith, disregarding his cuffs, disregarding his rings,
+disregarding everything, he plunged both his white hands into that
+sticky mass and brought them up dripping-full of that precious
+material--the genuine, no, better than genuine, Etruscan black mud!
+
+A cheer broke out from assembled Blakeville. This surely was artistic
+frenzy! This surely was the emotional temperament! This surely was the
+manner in which the great Italian black-pottery expert _should_ act in
+the first sight of his beloved black mud!
+
+"Da gr-r-r-r-r-a-a-n-da mod!" he repeated over and over, and drew it
+close to his face that he might inspect it with a near and loving eye.
+
+One might almost have thought that he was about to kiss it, to bury
+his nose in it; one almost expected him to jump into that pond and
+wallow in it, his joy at seeing it was so complete.
+
+It was J. Rufus Wallingford himself who, catching the contagion of
+this superb fervor, ran to the pail of drinking-water kept for the
+foundation workmen, and brought it to the great artist. J. Rufus
+himself poured water upon the great artist's hands until those hands
+were free of their Etruscan coating, and with his own immaculate
+handkerchief he dried those deft and skilful fingers, while the great
+Italian potter looked up into the face of his business manager with
+almost tears in his eyes!
+
+It was a wonderful scene, one never to be forgotten, and in the
+enthusiasm of that psychological moment Mrs. Moozer rushed forward.
+Mrs. Moozer, acting president of the Women's Culture Club in the
+absence of Miss Forsythe, saw here a glorious opportunity; here was
+where she could "put one over" upon that all-absorptive young lady.
+
+"My dear Mr. Wallingford, you must introduce me at once!" she
+exclaimed. "I can not any longer restrain my impatience."
+
+His own voice quavering emotions of several sorts, Wallingford
+introduced them, and Mrs. Moozer shook ecstatically the hand which
+had just caressed the dear swamp.
+
+"And so this is the great Matteo!" she exclaimed. "Signor, as acting
+president of the Women's Culture Club, I claim you for an address upon
+your sublime art next Saturday afternoon. Let business claim you
+afterward."
+
+"I hav'a--not da gooda Englis," said Blackie Daw, with an
+indescribable gesture of the shoulders and right arm, "but whata
+leetle I cana say, I s'alla be amost aglad to tella da ladees."
+
+Never did man enjoy himself more than did Blackie Daw. Blakeville went
+wild over this gifted, warmly temperamental foreigner. They dined him
+and they listened to his soul-satisfying, broken English with vast
+respect, even with veneration; the women because he was an artist, and
+the men because he represented vast money-earning capacity. Even the
+far-away president of the Women's Culture Club heard of his advent
+from a faithful adherent, an anti-Moozer and pro-Forsythe member, and
+on Saturday morning J. Rufus Wallingford received a gushing letter
+from that enterprising lady.
+
+     MY DEAR MR. WALLINGFORD:
+
+     I have been informed that the great event has happened, and
+     that the superb artist has at last arrived in Blakeville;
+     moreover, that he is to favor the Women's Culture Club, of
+     which I have the honor to be president, with a talk upon
+     his delightful art. I simply can not resist presiding at
+     that meeting, and I hope it is not uncharitable toward Mrs.
+     Moozer that I feel it my duty to do so; consequently I
+     shall arrive in time, I trust, to introduce him; moreover,
+     to talk with him in his own, limpid, liquid language. I
+     have been, for the past month, taking phonograph lessons in
+     Italian for this moment, and I trust that it will be a
+     pleasant surprise to him to be addressed in his native
+     tongue.
+
+Wallingford rushed up-stairs to where Blackie was leisurely getting
+ready for breakfast.
+
+"Old scout," he gasped, "your poor old mother in Italy is at the point
+of death, so be grief-stricken and hustle! Get ready for the next
+train out of town, you hear? Look at this!" and he thrust in front of
+Blackie's eyes the fatal letter.
+
+Blackie looked at it and comprehended its significance.
+
+"What time does the first train leave?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know, but whatever time it is I'll get you down to it," said
+Wallingford. "This is warning enough for me. It's time to close up and
+take my profits."
+
+The next east-bound train found Blackie Daw and Wallingford at the
+station, and just as it slowed down, Blackie, with Wallingford helping
+him carry his grips, was at the steps of the parlor car. He stood
+aside for the stream of descending passengers to step down, and had
+turned to address some remark to Wallingford, when he saw that
+gentleman's face blanch and his jaw drop. A second later a gauzy
+female had descended from the car and seized upon J. Rufus. Even as
+she turned upon him, Blackie felt the sinking certainty that this was
+Miss Forsythe.
+
+"And this is Signor Matteo, I am sure," she gushed. "You're _not_
+going away!"
+
+"Yes," interposed Wallingford, "his grandmother--I mean his mother--in
+Genoa is at the point of death, and he must make a hasty trip. He will
+return again in a month."
+
+"Oh, it is too bad, too bad indeed!" she exclaimed. "I sympathize with
+you, _so_ deeply, Signor Matteo. Signor,..."
+
+The dreaded moment had come, and Wallingford braced himself as Miss
+Forsythe, cocking her head upon one side archly, like a dear little
+bird, gurgled out one of her very choicest bits of phonograph Italian!
+
+Blackie Daw never batted an eyelash. He beamed upon Miss Forsythe,
+he displayed his dazzling white teeth in a smile of intense
+gratification, he grasped Miss Forsythe's two hands in the fervor of
+his enthusiasm--and, with every appearance of lively intelligence
+beaming from his eyes, he fired at Miss Forsythe a tumultuous stream
+of utterly unintelligible gibberish!
+
+As his flow continued, to the rhythm of an occasional, warm, double
+handshake, Miss Forsythe's face turned pink and then red, and when at
+last, upon the conductor's signal, Blackie hastily tore himself away
+and clambered on board, waving his hand to the last and erupting
+strange syllables which had no kith or kin, Miss Forsythe turned to
+Wallingford, nearly crying.
+
+"It is humiliating; it is _so_ humiliating," she admitted, trapped
+into confession by the suddenness of it all; "but, after all my weeks
+of preparation, I wasn't able to understand one word of that
+beautiful, limpid Italian!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+ IN WHICH J. RUFUS GIVES HIMSELF THE SURPRISE
+ OF HIS LIFE
+
+
+Wallingford had kept his finger carefully upon the pulse of the Bubble
+Bank by apparently inconsequential conversations with President
+Bubble, and he knew its deposits and its surplus almost to the dollar.
+Twice now he had checked out his entire account and borrowed nearly
+the face of his bank stock, on short time, against his mere note of
+hand, replacing the amounts quickly and at the same time depositing
+large sums, which he almost immediately checked out again.
+
+On the Saturday following Blackie Daw's departure all points had been
+brought together: the drainage operation had been completed; walls had
+been built about the three springs which supplied the swamp; the
+foundation of the studio had been completed, and all his workmen paid
+off and discharged; and the surplus of the Bubble Bank had reached
+approximately its high-water mark.
+
+On Sunday Wallingford, taking dinner with the Bubbles, unrolled a set
+of drawings, showing a beautiful Colonial residence which he proposed
+to build on vacant property he had that day bought, just east of Jonas
+Bubble's home.
+
+"Good!" approved Jonas with a clumsily bantering glance at his
+daughter, who colored deliciously. "Going to get married and settle
+down?"
+
+"You never can tell," laughed Wallingford. "Whether I do or not,
+however, the building of one or several houses like this would be a
+good investment, for the highly paid decorators and modelers which the
+pottery will employ will pay good rents."
+
+Jonas nodded gravely.
+
+"How easily success comes to men of enterprise and far-sightedness,"
+he declared with hearty approbation, in which there was mixed a large
+amount of self-complacency; for in thus complimenting Wallingford he
+could not but compliment himself.
+
+On Monday Wallingford walked into the Bubble Bank quite confidently.
+
+"Bubble, how much is my balance?" he asked, as he had done several
+times before.
+
+Mr. Bubble, smiling, turned to his books.
+
+"Three thousand one hundred and sixty-two dollars and fifty-eight
+cents," said he.
+
+"Why, I'm a pauper!" protested Wallingford. "I never could keep track
+of my bank balance. Well, that isn't enough. I'll have to borrow
+some."
+
+"I guess we can arrange that," said Jonas with friendly, one might
+almost say paternal, encouragement. "How much do you want?"
+
+"Well, I'll have to have about forty-five thousand dollars, all told,"
+replied Wallingford in an offhand manner.
+
+He had come behind the railing, as he always did. He was leaning at
+the end of Mr. Bubble's desk, his hands crossed before him. From
+his finger sparkled a big three-carat diamond; from his red-brown
+cravat--price three-fifty--sparkled another brilliant white stone
+fully as large; an immaculate white waistcoat was upon his broad
+chest; from his pocket depended a richly jeweled watch-fob. For
+just an instant Jonas Bubble was staggered, and then the recently
+imbibed idea of large operations quickly reasserted itself. Why, here
+before him stood a commercial Napoleon. Only a week or so before
+Wallingford's bank balance had been sixty thousand dollars; at other
+times it had been even more, and there had been many intervals
+between when his balance had been less than it was now. Here was a man
+to whom forty-five thousand dollars meant a mere temporary convenience
+in conducting operations of incalculable size. Here was a man who had
+already done more to advance the prosperity of Blakeville than any one
+other--excepting, of course, himself--in its history. Here was a man
+predestined by fate to enormous wealth, and, moreover, one who might
+be linked to Mr. Bubble, he hoped and believed, by ties even stronger
+than mere business associations.
+
+"Pretty good sum, Wallingford," said he. "We have the money, though,
+and I don't see why we shouldn't arrange it. Thirty-day note, I
+suppose?"
+
+"Oh, anything you like," said Wallingford carelessly. "Fifteen days
+will do just as well, but I suppose you'd rather have the interest for
+thirty," and he laughed pleasantly.
+
+"Yes, indeed," Jonas replied, echoing the laugh. "You're just in the
+nick of time, though, Wallingford. A month from now we wouldn't have
+so much. I'm making arrangements not to have idle capital on hand."
+
+"Idle money always yells at me to put it back into circulation," said
+Wallingford, looking about the desk. "Where are your note blanks?"
+
+"Er--right here," replied Mr. Bubble, drawing the pad from a drawer.
+"By the way, Wallingford, of course we'll have to arrange the little
+matter of securities, and perhaps I'd better see the directors about a
+loan of this size."
+
+"Oh, certainly," agreed Wallingford. "As for security, I'll just turn
+over to you my bank stock and a holding on the Etruscan property."
+
+For one fleeting instant it flashed across Mr. Bubble's mind that he
+had sold this very property to Wallingford for the sum of one thousand
+dollars; but a small patch of stony ground which had been worth
+absolutely nothing before the finding of gold in it had been known to
+become worth a million in a day, as Wallingford had once observed when
+looking across the great swamp, and now the mine he had sold to
+Wallingford for a song was worth almost any sum that might be named.
+Hen Moozer, when consulted, was of that opinion; Jim Ranger was of
+that opinion; Bud Hegler was of that opinion; the other directors were
+of that opinion; every one in Blakeville was of that opinion; so
+Wallingford got his forty-five thousand dollars, and the Bubble Bank
+held in return a mortgage on Wallingford's bank stock, and on forty
+acres of genuine Etruscan black mud.
+
+"By the way, Mr. Bubble," said Wallingford, tucking the bills of
+exchange into his pocket, "I'm going to take a little run into New
+York to-day. Would you mind putting the plans for my new house into
+the hands of the two contractors here for them to figure on?"
+
+"With pleasure. Hope you have a good trip, my boy."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Well, it was all over, but he was not quite so well satisfied as
+he had been over the consummation of certain other dubious deals.
+Heretofore he had hugely enjoyed the matching of his sharp wits
+against duller ones, had been contemptuous of the people he
+out-manoeuvered, had chuckled in huge content over his triumphs; but
+in this case there was an obstacle to his perfect enjoyment, and that
+obstacle was Fannie Bubble. He was rather impatient about it.
+
+He started early for the train, instructing Bob Ranger to be there to
+drive back the bays, and drove around by way of Jonas Bubble's house.
+As he was about to hitch his horses the door opened, and Fannie,
+dressed for the afternoon, but hatless, came flying out, her head bent
+and her hands back over it. She was crying, and was closely pursued by
+Mrs. Bubble, who brandished a feather duster, held by the feather end.
+Wallingford ran to open the gate as Fannie approached it, closing it
+and latching it in time to stop her stepmother.
+
+"What's the matter?" he asked.
+
+"She's a lazy, good-for-nothing, frivolous huzzy!" declared Mrs.
+Bubble in hot wrath.
+
+"I've been looking for just that kind," asserted Wallingford. "She'll
+do for me. Fannie, get into the buggy. I came down to take you for a
+ride to the depot."
+
+"If she goes away from this house she don't come back till she gets
+down on her knees and begs my forgiveness!" shrieked the woman.
+
+"If she does that I'll have her sent to a bugitorium," declared
+Wallingford. "She don't need to come back here. I'll take care of her
+myself. You'll go with me, won't you, Fannie?"
+
+"Anywhere," she said brokenly.
+
+"Then come on."
+
+Turning, he helped her into the buggy and they drove away, followed
+by the invectives of Mrs. Bubble. The girl was in a tumult of emotion,
+her whole little world clattering down about her ears. Bit by bit her
+story came out. It was sordid enough and trivial enough, but to her it
+was very real. That afternoon she had planned to go to the country for
+ferns with a few girls, and they were to meet at the house of one of
+her friends at one o'clock. Her stepmother had known about it three
+days in advance, and had given her consent. When the time came,
+however, she had suddenly insisted that Fannie stop to wash the
+dishes, which would have made her a half-hour late. There followed
+protest, argument, flat order and as flat refusal--then the handle of
+the feather duster. It was not an unusual occurrence for her
+stepmother to slap her, Fannie admitted in her bitterness. Her father,
+pompous enough outside, was as wax in the hands of his termagant
+second wife, and, though his sympathies were secretly with the girl,
+he never dared protect her.
+
+They had driven straight out the west road in the excitement, but
+Wallingford, remembering in time his train schedule, made the
+straightest _détour_ possible to the depot. He had barely time to buy
+his tickets when the train came in, and he hurried Fannie into the
+parlor car, her head still in a whirl and her confusion heightened by
+the sudden appreciation of the fact that she had no hat. The stop at
+Blakeville was but a brief one, and as the train moved away Fannie
+looked out of the window and saw upon the platform of the little
+depot, as if these people were a part of another world entirely, the
+station agent, the old driver of the dilapidated 'bus, Bob Ranger and
+others equally a part of her past life, all looking at her in
+open-mouthed astonishment. Turning, as the last familiar outpost of
+the town slipped by, she timidly reached out her hand and laid it in
+that of Wallingford.
+
+The touch of that warm hand laid on his electrified Wallingford. Many
+women had loved him, or thought they did, and he had held them in more
+or less contempt for it. He had regarded them as an amusement, as toys
+to be picked up and discarded at will; but this, somehow, was
+different. A sudden and startling resolve came to him, an idea so
+novel that he smiled over it musingly for some little time before he
+mentioned it.
+
+"By George!" he exclaimed by and by; "I'm going to marry you!"
+
+"Indeed!" she exclaimed in mock surprise, and laughed happily. "The
+way you said it sounded so funny."
+
+She was perfectly content.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+ WALLINGFORD GIVES HIMSELF STILL ANOTHER
+ STUPENDOUS SURPRISE
+
+
+Mrs. Wallingford, gowned and hatted and jeweled as Fannie Bubble had
+never been, and had never expected to be, tried the luxurious life
+that J. Rufus affected and found that she liked it. She was happy from
+day's end to day's end. Her husband was the most wonderful man in the
+world, flawless, perfect. Immediately upon their arrival in the city
+he had driven in hot haste for a license, and they were married before
+they left the court-house. Then he had wired the news to Jonas Bubble.
+
+"We start on our honeymoon at once," he had added, and named their
+hotel.
+
+By the time they had been shown to the expensive suite which
+Wallingford had engaged, a reply of earnest congratulation had come
+back from Jonas Bubble. The next day had begun the delights of
+shopping, of automobile rides, of the races, the roof gardens, the
+endless round of cafés. This world was so different, so much brighter
+and better, so much more pleasant in every way than the world of
+Blakeville, that she never cared to go back there--she was ashamed to
+confess it to herself--even to see her father!
+
+Blackie Daw, still keeping out of the way of federal officers who knew
+exactly where to find him, met J. Rufus on the street a week after his
+arrival, and, learning from him of his marriage to Fannie, came around
+to Wallingford's hotel to "look her over." Fannie marveled at Signor
+Matteo's rapid advance in English, especially his quick mastery of the
+vernacular, but she found him very amusing.
+
+"You win," declared Blackie with emphasis, when he and Wallingford had
+retired to a cozy little corner in the bar café. Fannie had inspired
+in him the awed respect that men of his stamp always render to good
+women. "You certainly got the original prize package. You and I are
+awful skunks, Jim."
+
+"She makes me feel that way, too, now and then," admitted Wallingford.
+"I'd be ashamed of myself for marrying her if I hadn't taken her from
+such a dog's life."
+
+"She seems to enjoy this one," said Blackie. "You're spending as much
+money on her as you used to on Beauty Phillips."
+
+"Just about," agreed Wallingford. "However, papa-in-law is paying for
+the honeymoon."
+
+"Does he know it?" asked Blackie.
+
+Wallingford chuckled.
+
+"Not yet," he admitted. "I'd like to see him when he finds it out."
+
+Blackie also grinned.
+
+"That little Blakeville episode was the happiest period of my life,"
+he declared. "By the way, J. Rufus, what was your game down there? I
+never understood."
+
+"As simple as a night-shirt," explained Wallingford. "I merely hunted
+through the postal guide for the richest little town I could find that
+had no bank. Then I went there and had one started so I could borrow
+its money."
+
+Blackie nodded comprehendingly.
+
+"Then you bought a piece of property and raised it to a fictitious
+value to cover the loan," he added. "Great stunt; but it seems to me
+they can get you for it. If they catch you up in one lie they can
+prove the whole thing to have been a frame-up. Suppose they find
+out?"
+
+Wallingford swelled up with righteous indignation.
+
+"Vittoreo Matteo," he charged, "you are a rascally scoundrel! I met
+you in New York and you imposed upon me with a miserable pack of lies.
+I have investigated and I find that there is no Etrusca, near Milan,
+Italy, no Etruscan black pottery, no Vittoreo Matteo. You induced me
+to waste a lot of money in locating and developing a black mud-swamp.
+When you had gained my full confidence you came to me in Blakeville
+with a cock-and-bull story that your mother was dying in Genoa, and on
+the strength of that borrowed a large sum of money from me. You are
+gone--I don't know where. I shall have to make a clean breast of this
+matter to Jonas Bubble, and tell him that if I can not pay that note
+when it falls due he will have to foreclose. You heartless villain!
+Waiter, ice us another bottle of that ninety-three."
+
+When Wallingford returned to his wife he found her very thoughtful.
+
+"When are we going to Blakeville, Jim?" she asked.
+
+He studied her curiously for a moment. She would have to know him some
+time or other. He had hoped to put it off while they were leading this
+unruffled existence, but now that the test had come he might as well
+have it over with.
+
+"I'm not going back," he declared. "I'm through with Blakeville.
+Aren't you?"
+
+"Yes," she admitted, pondering it slowly. "I could be happy here
+always, or, if not here, wherever you are. But your business back
+there, Jim?"
+
+He chuckled.
+
+"I have no business there," he told her. "My business is concluded. I
+borrowed forty-five thousand dollars on that forty acres of sticky
+mud, and I think I'll just let the bank foreclose."
+
+She looked at him a moment, dry-eyed and dry-lipped.
+
+"You're joking," she protested, in a low voice.
+
+"Not at all," he seriously assured her.
+
+They looked at each other steadily for some moments, and gradually
+Wallingford saw beneath those eyes a spirit that he might conquer,
+but, having conquered, would always regret.
+
+"It's--it's a swindle!" she gasped, as the true situation began to
+dawn upon her. "You don't mean, Jim, that you are a swindler!"
+
+"No, I wouldn't call it that," he objected, considering the matter
+carefully. "It is only rather a shrewd deal in the game of business.
+The law can't touch me for it unless they should chase down Vittoreo
+Matteo and find him to be a fraud, _and prove that I knew it_!"
+
+She was thoughtful a long time, following the intricate pattern of the
+rug in their sitting-room with the toe of her neatly-shod foot. She
+was perfectly calm, and he drew a sharp breath of relief. He had
+expected a scene when this revelation should come; he was more than
+pleased to find that she was not of the class which makes scenes.
+Presently she looked up.
+
+"Have you thought of what light this puts me in at home? Have you
+thought how I should be regarded in the only world I have ever known?
+Why, there are a thousand people back in Blakeville who know me, and
+even if I were never to meet one of them again--Jim, it mustn't be!
+You must not destroy my self-respect for ever. Have you spent any of
+that money?"
+
+"Well, no," he reluctantly replied. "I have plenty of money besides
+that."
+
+"Good!" said she with a gasp of relief. "Write father that, as you
+will be unable to carry out your projects, you are sending him the
+money to take up that note."
+
+Wallingford was silent a long time. Wonderful the influence this girl
+had over him. He was amazed at himself.
+
+"I can't remember when I ever gave up any money," he finally said,
+with an attempt at lightness; "but, Fannie, I think I'll do it just
+this once--for you--as a wedding present."
+
+"You'll do it right away, won't you?"
+
+"Right this minute."
+
+He walked over and stooped down to kiss her. She held up her lips
+submissively, but they were cold, and there was no answering pressure
+in them. Silently he took his hat and started down-stairs.
+
+"By the way," he said, turning at the door, "I'm going to make your
+father a present of that bay team."
+
+He scarcely understood himself as he dictated to the public
+stenographer a letter to Jonas Bubble, so far different from the one
+he had planned to write. It was not like him to do this utterly
+foolish thing, and yet, somehow, he felt that he could not do
+otherwise. When he came back up-stairs again, the letter written and a
+check inclosed in it and the whole mailed, he found her in the same
+chair, but now she was crying. He approached her hesitantly and stood
+looking down at her for a long, long time. It was, perhaps, but one
+minute, but it seemed much longer. Now was the supreme test, the
+moment that should influence all their future lives, and he dreaded to
+dissolve that uncertainty.
+
+He knelt beside her and put his arm about her. Still crying, she
+turned to him, threw both arms around his neck and buried her head on
+his shoulder--and as she cried she pressed him more tightly to her!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+ CASTING ABOUT FOR A STRAIGHT BUSINESS, PATENT
+ MEDICINE PROVIDES THE ANSWER
+
+
+That was a glorious honeymoon! They traveled from one gay summer
+resort to another, and when Fannie expressed the first hint of
+fatigue, Wallingford, who had grown to worship her, promptly provided
+her with complete and unique rest, by taking her to some one of the
+smaller inland cities of the type which he loved, installing her in a
+comfortable hotel, and living, for a week or so, a quiet, lazy
+existence consisting largely of mere eating and sleeping, and just
+enough exercise to keep in good health. In all this time there was not
+one jarring thought, one troubled moment, nor one hint of a shadow. J.
+Rufus took his wife into all sorts of unique experiences, full of life
+and color and novelty, having a huge pride in her constant wonder and
+surprise.
+
+It happened, while upon one of these resting sojourns, that they one
+night paused on the edge of a crowd which stood gaping at a patent
+medicine faker. Suddenly recognizing an old acquaintance in the
+picturesque orator with the sombrero and the shoulder-length gray
+hair, Wallingford drew closer.
+
+Standing behind the "doctor," upon the seat of his carriage where the
+yellow light of a gasolene torch flared full upon it, was a gaudy,
+life-size anatomical chart, and with this as bait for his moths he was
+extolling the virtues of Quagg's Peerless Sciatacata.
+
+"Here, my friends," he declared, unfolding one of the many hinged
+flaps of the gory chart, "you _bee_-hold the intimate relation of
+the stomach with all the _inn_-ternal organs, and above all with
+the blood, which, pumped by the heart through these _abb_-sorbing
+membranes, takes up that priceless tonic, Doctor Quagg's Peerless
+Sciatacata. This, acting _dii_-rectly upon the red corpuscles of
+the vital fluid, _stimm_-ulates the circulation and carries its
+germ-destroying properties to every atom of the human frame,
+casting off _imm_-purities, _clean_-sing the syst-_em_, bringing
+_ee_-lasticity to the footsteps, hope to the heart, the ruddy glow
+of bounding health to pale cheeks, and the sparkle of new life to
+tired and jaded eyes!"
+
+Wallingford turned to his wife with a chuckle,
+
+"Just stand here a minute, Fannie," said he. "I must wade in and speak
+to the old scout. We stopped a week at the same hotel over in New
+Jersey and got as chummy as two cell-mates."
+
+Fannie smiled doubtfully in response, and watched her husband with a
+slight trace of concern as he forced his way through the crowd and up
+to the wheel of the carriage.
+
+"How are you, Doctor?" said he, holding up his plump palm. "Where are
+you stopping?"
+
+The doctor's wink at J. Rufus was scarcely perceptible to that large
+young gentleman himself, much less to the bystanders, as with
+professional gravity he reached down for a hearty handshake.
+
+"Benson House. Come around and see me to-morrow morning." Then, with
+added gravity and in a louder voice: "I scarcely knew you, friend, you
+are so changed. How many bottles of the Sciatacata was it you took?"
+
+"Four," replied J. Rufus clearly, with not even a twinkle in his eye.
+
+"Only four bottles," declaimed Doctor Quagg. "My friends, this is one
+of my most marvelous cures. When I met this gentleman in Columbus,
+Ohio, he was a living skeleton, having suffered for years from
+sciatic rheumatism. He bought from me one night at my carriage, just
+as he is standing now, six bottles of the Peerless Sciatacata. He took
+but four bottles, and look at him to-day!"
+
+With one accord they looked. There was some slight tittering among
+them at first, but the dignity and gravity with which the towering J.
+Rufus, hale and hearty and in the pink of condition, withstood that
+inspection, checked all inclination to levity. Moreover, he was
+entirely too prosperous-looking to be a "capper."
+
+"I owe you my life, Doctor," said Wallingford gratefully. "I never
+travel without those other two bottles of the Sciatacata," and with
+the air of a debt of honor paid, he pressed back through the crowd to
+the sidewalk.
+
+His wife was laughing, yet confused.
+
+"I don't see how you can make yourself so conspicuous," she protested
+in a low voice.
+
+"Why not?" he laughed. "We public characters must boost one another."
+
+"And the price," they heard the doctor declaiming, "is only one dollar
+_per_ bottle, or six for five dollars, guar-_an_-teed not only to
+drive sciatic rheumatism from the sys-_tem_, but to cure the most
+ob-_stin_-ate cases of ague, Bright's disease, cat-a-lepsy, coughs,
+colds, cholera, _dys_-pepsia, ery-_sip_-_e_-las, fever _and_ chills,
+_gas_-tritis"--
+
+"And so on down to X Y Z, etc.," commented Wallingford as they walked
+away.
+
+His wife looked up at him curiously.
+
+"Jim, did you honestly take four bottles of that medicine?" she wanted
+to know.
+
+"Take it?" he repeated in amazement. "Certainly not! It isn't meant
+for wise people to take. It wouldn't do them any good."
+
+"It wouldn't do anybody any good," she decided with a trace of
+contempt.
+
+"Guess again," he advised her. "That dope has cured a million people
+that had nothing the matter with 'em."
+
+At the Hotel Deriche in the adjoining block they turned into the huge,
+garishly decorated dining-room for their after-theater supper. They
+had been in the town only two days, but the head waiter already knew
+to come eagerly to meet them, to show them to the best table in the
+room, and to assign them the best waiter; also the head waiter himself
+remained to take the order, to suggest a delicate, new dish and to
+name over, at Wallingford's solicitation, the choice wines in the
+cellar that were not upon the wine-list.
+
+This little formality over, Wallingford looked about him complacently.
+A pale gentleman with a jet-black beard bowed to him from across the
+room.
+
+"Doctor Lazzier," observed Wallingford to his wife. "Most agreeable
+chap and has plenty of money."
+
+He bent aside a little to see past his wife's hat, and exchanged a
+suave salutation with a bald-headed young man who was with two ladies
+and who wore a dove-gray silk bow with his evening clothes.
+
+"Young Corbin," explained Wallingford, "of the Corbin and Paley
+department store. He had about two dollars a week spending money till
+his father died, and now he and young Paley are turning social
+flip-flaps at the rate of twenty a minute. He belongs to the Mark
+family and he's great pals with me. Looks good for him, don't it?"
+
+"Jim," she said in earnest reproval, "you mustn't talk that way."
+
+"Of course I'm only joking," he returned. "You know I promised you I'd
+stick to the straight and narrow. I'll keep my word. Nothing but
+straight business for me hereafter."
+
+He, too, was quite serious about it, and yet he smiled as he thought
+of young Corbin. Another man, of a party just being shown to a table,
+nodded to him, and Mrs. Wallingford looked up at her husband with
+admiration.
+
+"Honestly, how do you do it?" she inquired. "We have only been here a
+little over forty-eight hours, and yet you have already picked up a
+host of nice friends."
+
+"I patronize only the best saloons," he replied with a grin; then,
+more seriously: "This is a mighty rich little city, Fannie. I could
+organize a stock company here, within a week, for anything from a
+burglar's trust to a church consolidation."
+
+"It's a pretty place," she admitted. "I like it very much from what I
+have seen of it."
+
+He chuckled.
+
+"Looks like a spending town," he returned; "and where they spend a wad
+they're crazy to make one. Give me one of these inland society towns
+for the loose, long green. New York's no place to start an honest
+business," and again he chuckled. "By the way, Fannie," he added after
+a pause, "what do you think of my going into the patent medicine
+line?"
+
+"How do you mean?" she inquired, frowning.
+
+"Oh, on a big scale," he replied. "Advertise it big, manufacture it
+big."
+
+She studied it over in musing silence.
+
+"I don't mind what you do so long as it is honest," she finally said.
+
+"Good. I'll hunt up Quagg to-morrow and spring it on him."
+
+"You don't mean that dreadful quack medicine he's selling on the
+street, do you?" she protested.
+
+"Why not? I don't know that it's worthless, and I do know that Quagg
+has sold it on street corners for twenty years from coast to coast. He
+goes back to the same towns over and over, and people buy who always
+bought before. Looks like a good thing to me. Quagg was a regular
+doctor when he was a kid; had a real diploma and all that, but no
+practice and no patience. Joke. Giggle."
+
+The oysters came on now, and they talked of other things, but while
+they were upon the meat Doctor Lazzier, having finished, came across
+to shake hands with his friend of a day, and was graciously charmed to
+meet Mrs. Wallingford.
+
+"Sit down," invited J. Rufus. "Won't you try a glass of this? It's
+very fair," and he raised a practised eyebrow to the waiter.
+
+The doctor delicately pushed down the edge of the ice-wet napkin
+until he could see the label, and he gave an involuntary smile of
+satisfaction as he recognized the vintage. The head waiter had timed
+the exact second to take that bottle out of the ice-pail, had wrapped
+the wet napkin about it and almost reverently filled glasses.
+Occasionally he came over and felt up inside the hollow on the bottom
+of the bottle.
+
+"Delighted," confessed the doctor, and sat down quite comfortably.
+
+"You may smoke if you like, Doctor," offered Mrs. Wallingford,
+smiling. "I don't seem to feel that a man is comfortable unless he is
+smoking."
+
+"To tell the truth, he isn't," agreed the doctor with a laugh, and
+accepting a choice cigar from Wallingford he lit it.
+
+The waiter came with an extra glass and filled for all three of them.
+
+"By the way, Doctor," said Wallingford, watching the pouring of the
+wine with a host's anxiety, "I think of going into the patent medicine
+business on a large scale, and I believe I shall have to have you on
+the board of directors."
+
+"Couldn't think of it!" objected the doctor hastily. "You know,
+professional ethics--" and he shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"That's so," admitted Wallingford. "We can't have you on the board,
+but we can have you for a silent stock-holder."
+
+"Open to the same objection," declared the doctor, with another
+dubious shrug, as he took up his glass.
+
+He tasted the wine; he took another sip, then another--slow, careful
+sips, so that no drop of it should hasten by his palate unappreciated.
+Wallingford did not disturb him in that operation. He had a large
+appreciation himself of the good things of this world, and the proper
+way to do them homage.
+
+The doctor took a larger sip, and allowed the delicate liquid to flow
+gently over his tongue. Wallingford was really a splendid fellow!
+
+"What sort of patent medicine are you going to manufacture?" asked the
+doctor by way of courtesy, but still "listening" to the taste of the
+wine.
+
+Wallingford laughed.
+
+"I haven't just decided as yet," he announced. "The medicine is only
+an incident. What we're going to invest in is advertising."
+
+"I see," replied the doctor, laughing in turn.
+
+"Advertising is a great speculation," went on Wallingford, with a
+reminiscent smile. "Take Hawkins' Bitters, for instance; nine per
+cent. cheap whisky flavored with coffee and licorice, and the balance
+pure water. Hawkins had closed a fifty-thousand-dollar advertising
+contract before he was quite sure whether he was going to sell patent
+medicine or shoe polish. The first thing he decided on was the name,
+and he had to do that in a hurry to get his advertising placed.
+Hawkins' Bitters was familiar to ten million people before a bottle of
+it had been made. It was only last summer that Hawkins sold out his
+business for a cool two million and went to Europe."
+
+"His decoction is terrible stuff," commented the doctor, more in
+sorrow than in anger; "but it certainly has a remarkable sale."
+
+"I should say it has!" agreed Wallingford. "The drug-stores sell it to
+temperance people by the case, and in the dry states you'll find every
+back yard littered with empty Hawkins' Bitters bottles."
+
+A half-dozen entertaining stories of the kind Wallingford told
+his guest, and by the time he was through Doctor Lazzier began
+himself to have large visions of enormous profits to be made in the
+patent medicine business. Somehow, the very waistcoat of young J.
+Rufus seemed, in its breadth and gorgeousness, a guarantee of enormous
+profits, no matter what business he discussed. But the doctor's very
+last remark was upon the sacredness of medical ethics! When he was
+gone there was a conspicuous silence between Wallingford and his wife
+for a few minutes, and then she asked:
+
+"Jim, are you actually going to start a patent medicine company?"
+
+"Certainly I am," he replied.
+
+"And will Doctor Lazzier take stock in it?"
+
+"He certainly will," he assured her. "I figure him for from ten to
+twenty-five thousand."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+ IN WHICH WALLINGFORD ORGANIZES THE DOCTOR
+ QUAGG PEERLESS SCIATACATA COMPANY
+
+
+At the Benson House J. Rufus found Doctor Quagg with a leg propped up
+on a chair, and himself in a state of profound profanity.
+
+"What's the matter, Doc?" asked Wallingford.
+
+"Sciatic rheumatism!" howled the martyr. "It's gettin' worse every
+year. Every time I go on the street for a night I know I'm goin' to
+suffer. That's why I keep it up so late and spiel myself hoarse in the
+neck. I jumped into town just yesterday and got a reader from these
+city hall pirates. They charged me twenty-five iron men for my license
+for the week. I go out and make one pitch, and that's all I get for my
+twenty-five."
+
+"Sciatic rheumatism's a tough dose," commiserated Wallingford. "Why
+don't you take five or six bottles of the Peerless Sciatacata?"
+
+The answer to this was a storm of fervid expletives which needed no
+diagram. Wallingford, chuckling, sat down and gloated over the
+doctor's misery, lighting a big, fat cigar to gloat at better ease. He
+offered a cigar to Quagg.
+
+"I daresn't smoke," swore that invalid.
+
+"And I suppose you daresn't drink, either," observed Wallingford.
+"Well, that doesn't stop me, you know."
+
+Wearily the doctor indicated a push-button.
+
+"You'll have to ring for a boy yourself," said he.
+
+When the boy came Wallingford ordered a highball.
+
+"And what's yours, sir?" asked the boy, turning to the doctor.
+
+"Lithia, you bullet-headed nigger!" roared the doctor with a twinge of
+pain in his leg. "That's twice to-day I've had to tell you I can't
+drink anything but lithia. Get out!"
+
+The boy "got," grinning.
+
+"Seriously, though, old man," said Wallingford, judging that the
+doctor had been aggravated long enough, "your condition must be very
+bad for business, and I've come to make you a proposition to go into
+the manufacture of the Peerless on a large scale."
+
+The doctor sat in silence for a moment, shaking his head despondently.
+
+"You can't get spielers," he declared. "I've tried it. Once I made up
+a lot of the Sciatacata and sent out three men; picked the best I
+could find that had made good with street-corner pitches in other
+lines, and their sales weren't half what mine would be; moreover, they
+got drunk on the job, didn't pay for their goods, and were a nuisance
+any way you took 'em."
+
+Wallingford laughed.
+
+"I didn't mean that we should manufacture the priceless remedy for
+street fakers to handle," he explained. "I propose to start a big
+factory to supply drug-stores through the jobbing trade, to spend a
+hundred thousand dollars in advertising right off the bat, give you
+stock in the company for the use of your formula, and a big salary to
+superintend the manufacture. That will do away with your exposure to
+the night air, stop the increase of your sciatica, and make you more
+money. Why, Doc, just to begin with we'll give you ten thousand
+dollars' worth of stock."
+
+It took Doctor Quagg some time to recover from the shock of that much
+money.
+
+"I've heard of such things," said he gratefully, "but I never supposed
+it could happen to me."
+
+"You don't need to put up a cent," went on Wallingford. "And I don't
+need to put up a cent. We'll use other people's money."
+
+"Where are you going to get your share?" asked the doctor
+suspiciously. "Are you going to have a salary, too?"
+
+"No," said Wallingford. "We'll pay you thirty-five dollars to start
+with as superintendent of the manufacturing department, but I won't
+ask for a salary; I'll take a royalty of one cent a bottle as manager
+of the company. I'll take five thousand dollars' worth of stock for my
+services in promotion, and then for selling the stock I'll take
+twenty-five per cent. of the par value for all I place, but will take
+it out in stock at the market rate. We'll organize for half a million
+and begin selling stock at fifty cents on the dollar, and I'll
+guarantee to raise for us one hundred and twenty-five thousand net
+cash--twenty-five thousand for manufacturing and one hundred thousand
+for advertising."
+
+The doctor drew a long breath.
+
+"If you can do that you're a wonder," he declared; "but it don't seem
+to me you're taking enough for yourself. You're giving me ten
+thousand dollars and you're only taking five; you're giving me
+thirty-five dollars a week and you're only taking a cent a bottle. It
+seems to me the job of organizing and building up such a company is
+worth as much as the Sciatacata."
+
+"Don't you worry about me," protested J. Rufus modestly. "I'll get
+along all right. I'm satisfied. We'll organize the company to-day."
+
+"You can't get all that money together in a day!" exclaimed the doctor
+in amazement.
+
+"Oh, no; I don't expect to try it. I'll put up all the money
+necessary. We want five directors, and we have three of them now, you
+and my wife and I. Do you know anybody around the hotel that would
+serve?"
+
+The doctor snorted contemptuously.
+
+"Nobody that's got any money or responsibility," he asserted.
+
+"They don't need to have any money, and we don't want them to have any
+responsibility," protested Wallingford. "Anybody of voting age will do
+for us just now."
+
+"Well," said the doctor reflectively, "the night clerk's a pretty good
+fellow, and the head dining-room girl here has always been mighty
+nice to me. She's some relation to the proprietor and she's been here
+for five years."
+
+"Good," said Wallingford. "I'll telephone out for a lawyer."
+
+There was no telephone in the room, but down-stairs Wallingford found
+a pay 'phone and selected a lawyer at random from the telephone
+directory. Within two hours Wallingford and his wife, Doctor Quagg,
+Albert Blesser and Carrie Schwam had gravely applied for a charter of
+incorporation under the laws of the state, for The Doctor Quagg
+Peerless Sciatacata Company, with a capital stock of one thousand
+dollars, fully paid in. As he signed his name the doctor laughed like
+a school-boy.
+
+"Now," said he, "I'm going to get my hair cut."
+
+Wallingford stopped him in positive fright.
+
+"Don't you dare do it!" he protested.
+
+"Is that hair necessary to the business?" asked the doctor,
+crestfallen.
+
+"Absolutely," declared Wallingford. "Why, man, that back curtain of
+yours is ten per cent. dividends."
+
+"Then I'll wear it," agreed the doctor resignedly; "but I hate to. You
+know I've honed for years to quit this batting around the country,
+and just ached to wear short hair and a derby hat like a white man."
+
+Wallingford looked at the weather-bronzed face and shook his head.
+
+"What a pity that would be!" he declared. "However, Doc, your
+wanderings cease from this minute, and your salary begins from
+to-day."
+
+"Fine," breathed the doctor. "I say, Wallingford, then suppose you
+order me about three gross of bottles and some fresh labels. I'll get
+the drugs myself and start in making a supply of the Sciatacata."
+
+"You just nurse your leg," advised Wallingford. "Why, man, when we
+start manufacturing the Peerless it will be in vats holding a hundred
+gallons, and will be bottled by machinery that will fill, cork and
+label a hundred bottles a minute. You're to superintend mixing; that's
+your job."
+
+It took many days, days of irksome loafing for the doctor, before
+they had their final incorporation papers. Immediately they
+elected themselves as directors, made Quagg president, Wallingford
+secretary and Albert Blesser treasurer, and voted for an increase of
+capitalization to one-half million dollars. They gave Quagg his
+hundred shares and Wallingford his fifty; they voted Quagg his salary
+and Wallingford his royalty; also they voted Wallingford an honorarium
+of twenty-five per cent., payable in stock, for disposing of such
+of the treasury shares as they needed issued, and immediately
+Wallingford, who had spent the interim in cultivating acquaintances,
+began to secure investors.
+
+He sold more than mere stock, however. He sold Doctor Quagg's hair and
+sombrero; he sold glowing word pictures of immense profits, and he
+sold the success of all other patent medicine companies; he sold
+his own imposing height and broad chest, his own jovial smile and
+twinkling eye, his own prosperous grooming and good feeding--and those
+who bought felt themselves blessed.
+
+First of all, he sold fifty thousand dollars' worth for twenty-five
+thousand to young Corbin, whereupon Mr. Blesser, as per instructions,
+resigned from the treasurership and directorate in favor of Mr.
+Corbin. Wallingford got fifteen thousand dollars from Doctor
+Lazzier, and ten from young Paley, and with fifty thousand dollars
+in the treasury sent for an advertising man and gave out a
+hundred-thousand-dollar contract.
+
+"For the first half of this campaign," he explained to the advertising
+man, "I want this one ad spread everywhere: 'Laugh at That Woozy
+Feeling.' This is to cover the top half of the space in good, plain,
+bold letters. In place of leaving the bottom blank for kids to
+scribble reasons of their own why you should laugh at that woozy
+feeling, we'll put gray shadow-figures there--grandpa and grandma and
+pa and ma and Albert and Henry and Susan and Grace and little Willie,
+all laughing fit to kill. And say, have it a real laugh. Have it the
+sort of a laugh that'll make anybody that looks at it want to be
+happy. Of course, later, I want you to cover up the bottom half of
+that advertisement with: 'Use Doctor Quagg's Peerless Sciatacata,' or
+something like that, but I'll furnish you the copy for that when the
+time comes. It will be printed right over the laughing faces."
+
+"It should make a very good ad," commented the agent with enthusiasm,
+writing out the instructions Wallingford gave him, and willing to
+approve of anything for that size contract.
+
+Wallingford went home to his wife, filled with a virtuous glow.
+
+"You know, there's something I like about this straight business,
+Fannie," said he. "It gives a fellow a sort of clean feeling. I'm
+going to build up a million-dollar business and make everybody
+concerned in it rich, including myself. Already I've placed one
+hundred thousand dollars' worth of stock, have fifty thousand dollars
+cash in the treasury, and fifty-five thousand dollars' worth of stock
+for myself."
+
+She looked puzzled.
+
+"I thought you were to get only twenty-five per cent. for selling the
+stock."
+
+He chuckled; shoulders, chest and throat, eyes and lips and chin, he
+chuckled.
+
+"Twenty-five per cent. of the par value," said he, "payable in stock
+at the market price."
+
+"I don't see the difference," she protested. "I'm sure I thought it
+was to be straight twenty-five per cent., and I'm sure all the members
+of the company thought so."
+
+He patiently explained it to her.
+
+"Don't you see, if I sell one hundred thousand dollars' worth of
+stock, I get the same as twenty-five thousand dollars for it, and with
+that buy fifty thousand dollars' worth of stock? Of course I get it at
+the same price as others--fifty per cent."
+
+"Did they understand you'd get fifty thousand instead of twenty-five
+thousand?" she asked.
+
+He chuckled again.
+
+"If they didn't they will," he admitted.
+
+She pondered over that thoughtfully for a while.
+
+"Is that straight business?" she inquired.
+
+"Of course it's straight business or I wouldn't be doing it. It is
+perfectly legitimate. You just don't understand."
+
+"No," she confessed, "I guess I don't; only I thought it was just
+twenty-five per cent."
+
+"It is twenty-five per cent.," he insisted, and then he gave it up.
+"You'd better quit thinking," he advised. "It'll put wrinkles in your
+brow, and I'm the one that has the wrinkles scheduled. I've just
+contracted for one hundred thousand dollars' worth of advertising, and
+I've got to go out to sell enough stock to bring in the cash. Also,
+I've rented a factory, and to-morrow I'm going to let out contracts
+for bottling machinery, vats and fixtures. I've already ordered the
+office furniture. You ought to see it. It's swell. I'm having some
+lithographed stationery made, too, embossed in four colors, with a
+picture of Doctor Quagg in the corner."
+
+"How much stock has the doctor?" she asked.
+
+"Ten thousand."
+
+"Is that all he's going to have?" she wanted to know.
+
+"Why, certainly, that's all he's going to have. I made the bargain
+with him and he's satisfied."
+
+"Ten thousand dollars' worth out of a half-million-dollar corporation?
+Why, Jim, for his medicine, upon which the whole business is built, he
+only gets--how much is that of all of it?"
+
+"One fiftieth, or two per cent.," he told her.
+
+"Two per cent.!" she gasped. "Is that straight business, Jim?"
+
+"Of course it's straight business," he assured her. "Of course," and
+he smiled, "Doc didn't stop to figure that he only gets two per cent.
+of the profits of the concern. He figures that he's to draw dividends
+on the large hunk of ten thousand dollars' worth of stock, and he's
+satisfied. Why aren't you?"
+
+"I don't know," she replied slowly, still with the vague feeling that
+something was wrong. "Really, Jim, it don't seem to me that straight
+business is any more fair than crooked business."
+
+Wallingford was hugely disappointed.
+
+"And that's all the appreciation I get for confining myself to the
+straight and narrow!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Oh, I didn't mean that, Jim," she said, with instant contrition. "You
+don't know how glad I am that now, since we're married, you have
+settled down to honorable things; and you'll make a fortune, I know
+you will."
+
+"You bet I will," he agreed. "In the meantime I have to go out and dig
+up seventy-five thousand dollars more of other people's money to put
+into this concern; _which will give me another seventy-five thousand
+dollars' worth of stock_! Straight business pays, Fannie!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+ DOCTOR QUAGG PROVES THAT STRAIGHT BUSINESS IS A
+ DELUSION AND A SNARE
+
+
+Within a short time Wallingford had the satisfaction of seeing
+bill-boards covered with his big sign ordering the public to "Laugh at
+That Woozy Feeling," but not yet telling them how to do it, and he
+heard people idly wondering what the answer to that advertisement was
+going to be. Some of them resented having puzzles of the sort thrust
+in front of their eyes, others welcomed it as a cheerful diversion.
+Wallingford smiled at both sorts. He knew they would remember, and
+firmly link together the mystery and the solution. Cards bearing the
+same mandate stared down at every street-car rider, and newspaper
+readers found it impossible to evade the same command. All this
+advertising, for the appearance of which Wallingford had waited,
+helped him to sell the stock to pay for itself, and, in the meantime,
+he was busy putting into his new factory a bottling plant, second in
+its facility if not its capacity, to none in the country. He installed
+magnificent offices and for the doctor prepared an impressive private
+apartment, this latter being a cross between an alchemist's laboratory
+and a fortune-teller's oriental _salon_; but alas and alack! the
+first day the doctor walked into his new office he had his hair
+close-cropped and wore a derby, with such monstrous effect that even
+Wallingford, inured as he was to most surprises, recoiled in horror!
+
+From that moment the doctor became a hard one to manage. His first
+protest was against the Benson House, the old-fashioned, moderate-rate
+hotel which he had always patronized and had always recommended
+wherever he went. Thereafter he changed boarding-houses and family
+hotels about every two weeks; but he never had his hair cut after the
+once. The big mixing vats that Wallingford installed he grew to hate.
+He was used to mixing his Sciatacata in a hotel water-pitcher and
+filling it into bottles with a tin funnel; and to mix up a hundred
+gallons at a time of that precious compound seemed a cold, commercial
+proposition which was so much a sacrilege that he went out and
+"painted the town," winding up in a fight with a cigar-store Indian.
+He left such a train of fireworks in his wake that Wallingford heard
+of it for weeks afterward.
+
+To J. Rufus the affair was a good joke, but to the other gentlemen of
+the company, Corbin, Paley and Doctor Lazzier and the others who had
+social reputations to maintain as well as business interests to guard,
+the affair was tragic, not merely because one of their number had
+become intoxicated, but that it should be this particular one, and
+that he should make himself so conspicuous! The doctor repeated his
+escapade within a week. This time he took a notion to "circulate" in a
+cab, and as he got more mellow, insisted upon sitting up with the
+driver, where he whooped sonorously every time they turned a corner.
+This time he finished in the hands of the police, and Wallingford was
+called upon at three o'clock in the morning to bail him out. Friends
+of Corbin and Paley and the other exclusives whom Wallingford had
+selected as his stock-holders began to drop in on them with pleasant
+little remarks about their business associate. The doctor had been
+bragging widely about his connection with them!
+
+His crowning effort came when he continued his celebration of one
+night through the next day, and drove around to make a few party
+calls. He appeared like a specter of disgrace in Corbin's private
+office with:
+
+"Hello, old pal, come out and have a drink!" and gave Corbin a hearty
+slap on the back.
+
+Corbin gave a helpless glance across at the three prim young ladies on
+the other side of his open screen. Back of him a solemn-visaged old
+bookkeeper, who was both a deacon and Sunday-school superintendent,
+looked on in shocked amazement.
+
+"Couldn't begin to think of it, Doctor," protested Corbin nervously,
+pulling at his lavender cravat, while the perspiration broke out upon
+his bald spot. "I must attend to business, you know."
+
+"Never mind the business!" insisted the doctor. "Wait till our
+Sciatacata factory is shipping in car-loads, partner, and you can
+afford to give this junk-shop away."
+
+Paley, happening in to speak to Corbin, created a diversion welcome to
+Corbin but unwelcome to himself, for the doctor immediately pounced
+upon Paley and insisted upon taking him out to get a drink, and the
+only way that narrow-framed young man could get rid of him was to
+go along. He rode around in the cab with him for a while, and tried
+to dissuade him from calling upon Doctor Lazzier and the other
+stock-holders, but Quagg was obdurate. To wind up the evening's
+performance he appeared on a prominent street corner about nine
+o'clock, in a carriage with the gasolene torch and the life-size
+anatomical chart, and began selling the Peerless Sciatacata, calling
+upon the names of Wallingford, Lazzier, Corbin and Paley--his
+"partners"--as guarantees of his sincerity and standing, and as
+sureties of the excellence of the priceless compound.
+
+Wallingford heard about him quickly, for the picturesque Quagg had
+become a public joy and all the down-town crowd knew well about him.
+Wallingford went down to the corner with the intention of putting a
+stop to the exhibition, but, as he looked at the doctor, whose hair
+now dropped beneath his sombrero to nearly its old-time length, a new
+thought struck him and he went quietly away. The next day Corbin
+withdrew from the treasurership and Paley from the directorate, and
+every one of the directors who had taken the places of the original
+incorporators did likewise. Intimate relationship with the doctor was
+productive of too much publicity for peaceful enjoyment.
+
+It was just at this time that the agent of the advertising concern
+began to bother Wallingford for "copy" on the last half of his
+contract. Wallingford, to placate him, finished paying for the
+contract and took the cash discount, but held the agent off two or
+three days in the matter of the "copy." He was not quite satisfied
+about the wording of the advertisement. He sat up late one night
+devising the most concise and striking form in which to present the
+merits of Doctor Quagg's Peerless Sciatacata, and in the morning he
+went down to the office prepared to mail the result of his labor. He
+found upon his desk this note from the restless Doctor Quagg:
+
+     Spring's here. I never stayed in one place so long in my
+     life. You can have my salary and you can have my ten
+     thousand dollars' worth of stock. I don't want it. My
+     hair's out good and long again and I've gone back on the
+     road to sell the Sciatacata.
+
+                         Yours truly,
+                              QUAGG.
+
+It was the last straw, and the stock-holders' meeting which
+Wallingford hastily called wore the greenish pallor peculiar to
+landlubbers in their first sea storm.
+
+"We don't need Quagg," Wallingford protested. "Our contract with him
+covers any rights he has in the title of the medicine, and the mere
+fact that he is not with us does not need to prevent our going ahead."
+
+"Have you the formula for his preparation?" asked Doctor Lazzier
+quietly.
+
+"Oh, no," replied Wallingford carelessly. "I don't see that that need
+stop us."
+
+"Why not?" protested young Corbin. "Our whole business is built upon
+that formula."
+
+Wallingford smiled.
+
+"We simply must stick to the Sciatacata," resumed Wallingford. "We
+have all this fine stationery printed, with the full name of the
+Peerless dope; we have elaborate booklets and circulars about it, and
+the first delivery of ten thousand labels is here. There will be no
+trouble in getting up another Peerless Sciatacata which will at least
+be harmless, but I think that we can do even better than that. I think
+that Doctor Lazzier can furnish us a good, handy, cheap prescription
+for sciatic rheumatism."
+
+"Certainly not," protested Doctor Lazzier with vast professional
+indignation; but he nevertheless winked at Wallingford.
+
+"Never mind," said Wallingford to Corbin; "I'll get the formula all
+right."
+
+"For my part I'm willing to sell my stock at ten per cent.," said
+Corbin with infinite disgust. He was thinking at that very moment of a
+gaudy "function" he was to attend that night, one marking quite an
+advance in his social climb, and he almost dreaded to go. "I don't
+like to lose money, but, in this case, I'd really rather. This is a
+dreadful experience."
+
+The rest of them agreed with young Corbin in attitude, if not in
+words, and it was with considerable sadness that they dispersed, after
+having decided, somewhat reluctantly, that Wallingford should go ahead
+with the Sciatacata. Pursuing this plan Wallingford sent away the copy
+for the bottom half of the great woozy-feeling advertisement.
+
+The following afternoon, however, came the death-blow, in the shape of
+a most hilarious article in the local papers. In a neighboring city
+Doctor Quagg had gone out to sell the Peerless Sciatacata, had been
+caught in a drizzle of spring rain and had been sent, raving angry, to
+the hospital with a most severe case of sciatic rheumatism. The joke
+of it was too good. The local papers, as a mere kindly matter of news
+information, published a list of the stock-holders of the Doctor Quagg
+Peerless Sciatacata Company.
+
+Wallingford, with that item before him, sat and chuckled till the
+tears quivered on his eyelashes; but, even in the midst of his
+appreciation of the fun in the case, he wired to the agent of the
+advertising company to cancel his previous letter of instructions, and
+to secure him at least a week's grace before forfeiture of the
+contract; then he proceeded quietly to telephone the stock-holders. He
+found great difficulty in getting the use of his line, however, for
+the stock-holders were already calling him up, frantically, tearfully,
+broken-heartedly. They were all ruined through their connection with
+the Sciatacata!
+
+"I'll tell you, Fannie," said he at dinner, after pondering over a new
+thought which would keep obtruding itself into his mind, "this thing
+of training a straight business down to weight is no merry quip. It's
+more trouble and risk than my favorite game of promoting for revenue
+only."
+
+"You keep right on at it, Jim," she insisted. "You'll find there is
+ever so much more satisfaction in it in the end."
+
+He was moody all through dinner. They had tickets for the theater that
+night and they went, but here, too, Wallingford was distrait, and he
+could not have remembered one incident of the play until during the
+last act, when his brow suddenly cleared. When they went back to the
+hotel he led his wife into the dining-room, and, excusing himself for
+a moment, went to the telegraph desk and sent a telegram to Horace G.
+Daw, of Boston.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+ IN WHICH YOU ARE TOLD HOW TO LAUGH AT THAT
+ WOOZY FEELING
+
+
+Two days later Wallingford called a conclave of the stock-holders to
+meet one Hamilton G. Dorcas, of Boston, who had come to consider
+taking over the property of the Doctor Quagg Peerless Sciatacata
+Company. Quite hopefully Doctor Lazzier, young Corbin, young Paley and
+the others attended that meeting for the disposal of the concern which
+had already eaten up one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in
+good cash; but when they began talking with Mr. Dorcas they were not
+quite so extravagantly hopeful. Mr. H. G. Dorcas was a tall, thin,
+black-haired, black-eyed and black-mustached young man in ministerial
+clothing, who looked astonishingly like Horace G. Daw, if any one of
+them had previously known that young gentleman.
+
+"I have been through your factory," said Mr. Dorcas in a businesslike
+manner, "and all I find here of any value to me is your second-hand
+bottling machinery and vats and your second-hand office furniture. For
+those I am prepared to pay you a reasonable second-hand price; say,
+about fifteen thousand dollars."
+
+It was young Corbin who put up the loudest protest.
+
+"Why, man, such an offer is preposterous! Besides the twenty-five
+thousand invested in the machinery, fixtures and other expenses, we
+have spent exactly a hundred thousand dollars in advertising."
+
+Mr. Dorcas shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"What good will that do me?" he retorted. "It's wasted."
+
+Deep silence followed. The stock-holders knew that a hundred thousand
+had actually been paid out for advertising which, of course, was now
+of no value whatever. Only Wallingford knew that, the contract not
+being completed, part of it could be rebated, though only a small
+part, but he was not saying anything. Temptation had caught up with
+Wallingford, had wrestled with him and overthrown him!
+
+"Yes," admitted young Paley with a long, long sigh, "all that
+advertising money is wasted."
+
+Young Corbin was figuring.
+
+"Mr. Dorcas," said he, "if you will increase your offer by two
+thousand dollars I am inclined to accept it and get out of this muddle
+once and for all."
+
+Mr. Dorcas himself figured very carefully.
+
+"It is stretching a point with you," said he, "but I'll give it to
+you. Understand, though, that is the last cent."
+
+"I am not in favor of it," declared Wallingford, thereby putting
+himself upon the proper side for future reference. "It leaves us with
+a net cash loss of one hundred and eight thousand dollars. I'm in
+favor of rigging up some other patent medicine and going right ahead
+with the business. A slight assessment on our stock, or an agreement
+to purchase _pro rata_, among ourselves, a small amount of the
+treasury stock in order to raise about twenty-five thousand dollars
+more, will put us in shape to go ahead."
+
+If he intended to encourage them he had gone the wrong way about it.
+They recoiled as one man from that thought. Young Corbin jumped to his
+feet.
+
+"You may count me out," he declared.
+
+"Doctor Lazzier," pleaded Wallingford, "you are in favor of this
+course?"
+
+"By no means," said he. "A lot of my friends are 'on,' and some of my
+patients are laughing at me. I can't afford it. Take this man's offer.
+Wait just a minute." He rose to his feet. "I'll make that a formal
+motion," and he did so.
+
+With no dissenting voice, except Wallingford's, that motion was
+carried through, and Wallingford spread it upon the minute-books at
+once. Also a committee was appointed formally to close the business
+with Mr. Dorcas, and to transfer to that gentleman, at once, all the
+properties, rights and good-will of the company.
+
+"Gentlemen, I am very sorry," said Wallingford, much crestfallen in
+appearance. "I still protest against giving up, but I blame myself for
+coaxing you into this unfortunate affair."
+
+"Don't mention it," protested Doctor Lazzier, shaking hands. "You
+meant to do us a favor."
+
+They all agreed with the doctor, and young Corbin felt especially
+sorry for Wallingford's contrition.
+
+Immediately after the dispersal of the meeting Mr. Wallingford and
+"Mr. Dorcas" shook hands ecstatically.
+
+"Blackie, you're handier than a hollow cane in Drytown," exulted
+Wallingford. "Here's where I clean up. I own over one third of this
+stock. I have invested only one cheap thousand dollars over and above
+my expenses since I got here, and I'll get a third of this seventeen
+thousand right back again, so the company, up to date--and I own it
+all--stands me just a little less than what's left of my winnings on
+that noble little horse, Whipsaw. Just wait a minute till I send this
+off to the advertising company," and he wrote rapidly a lengthy
+telegram.
+
+After he sent away the telegram he remained at his desk a few moments,
+sketching on one of the proofs of a newspaper "ad" and filling in the
+lower part.
+
+"Here," said he to Blackie, "is the complete advertisement."
+
+Blackie picked up the proof sheet and glanced over it in evident
+approval. Taken altogether, it read:
+
+                         LAUGH AT
+                    THAT WOOZY FEELING
+                      DRINK GINGEREE!
+                 IT PUTS THE GINGER IN YOU
+              TEN CENTS AT ALL SODA FOUNTAINS
+
+"Within a week," exulted Wallingford, "everybody in the middle states
+will know all about Gingeree. Before that time I'll have Gingeree
+invented, and the Gingeree Company organized for half a million
+dollars. I'll put in the plant and the advertising at one hundred and
+fifty thousand, sell about twenty-five thousand dollars of treasury
+stock to start the business, then sell my hundred and fifty thousand
+and get out."
+
+"You'll have to go out of town to sell your stock," observed Blackie.
+
+"Out of town!" repeated Wallingford. "I should say not! With the good
+introduction I have here? Not any. I'll sell stock to Doctor Lazzier
+and young Corbin and young Paley and the rest of the bunch."
+
+Blackie looked at his friend in gasping awe.
+
+"Great guns!" he exploded. "J. Rufus, if you have nerve enough even to
+figure on that stunt, I believe you can pull it off!"
+
+The door of the office opened and Mrs. Wallingford came in.
+
+"Blackie Daw!" she exclaimed. "And so you are in town and mixed up in
+Jim's affairs! Jim Wallingford, now I know you are not conducting a
+straight business!"
+
+Blackie only grinned, but Mr. Wallingford was hurt.
+
+"You're mistaken, Fannie," said he. "You sit right down there, and
+I'll explain."
+
+He did so. When Wallingford rejoined her in their rooms that evening
+she had had time to think it all over. She had found no arguments to
+combat Wallingford's statement of the case. She could not find words
+to overturn his words, and yet there was a flaw some place that she
+could not put her finger upon. Knowing this, then, and condoning it,
+was she not a part sharer in his guilt? Yes, and no. For a solid hour
+she searched her heart and she could find but one satisfactory answer.
+No matter what he had done in the past or might do in the future, she
+knew that she loved him, and whatever path his feet might tread, she
+knew that she would walk along with him. She had thought at first that
+she might guide his footsteps into better ways, but now she feared!
+She knew, too, that in remaining with him she must take him as he was.
+
+And so, when he came to her, she was ready with her customary kiss, in
+which there was no lack of warmth; nor was there in her eyes any
+troubled look. He was delighted to find her in this mood.
+
+"I guess you've thought it all over, Fannie," said he, "and can see
+that at least this one business deal is a dead straight game, just as
+any good business man would play it."
+
+"Yes," she reluctantly admitted. "I am afraid that business, even
+straight business, is sometimes conducted along such lines."
+
+But down in her heart of hearts she knew better.
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise
+every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and
+intent.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG WALLINGFORD***
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Young Wallingford, by George Randolph Chester</title>
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+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Young Wallingford, by George Randolph
+Chester, Illustrated by F. R. Gruger and Henry Raleigh</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Young Wallingford</p>
+<p>Author: George Randolph Chester</p>
+<p>Release Date: June 19, 2010  [eBook #32897]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG WALLINGFORD***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by D Alexander<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br />
+    from page images generously made available by<br />
+    Internet Archive/American Libraries<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10">
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/youngwallingford00chesiala">
+      http://www.archive.org/details/youngwallingford00chesiala</a>
+	</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>YOUNG<br />
+WALLINGFORD</h1>
+
+<h3><i>By</i></h3>
+<h2>GEORGE RANDOLPH CHESTER</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Author of</i><br />
+THE EARLY BIRD<br />
+THE MAKING OF BOBBY BURNIT</p>
+
+<p class="gap">&#160;</p>
+
+<h4>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</h4>
+
+<h3>F. R. GRUGER &amp; HENRY RALEIGH</h3>
+
+<p class="gap">&#160;</p>
+
+<h3>INDIANAPOLIS<br />
+THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY<br />
+PUBLISHERS</h3>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<p class="center">COPYRIGHT 1910<br />
+<span class="smcap">The Bobbs-Merrill Company</span></p>
+
+<p class="smallgap">&#160;</p>
+
+<p class="center">PRESS OF<br />
+BRAUNWORTH &amp; CO.<br />
+BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS<br />
+BROOKLYN, N. Y.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 349px;">
+<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="349" height="500" alt="Fannie" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" width="80%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS">
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right"><span class="smaller">CHAPTER</span></td>
+<td align="left">&#160;</td>
+<td align="right"><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">I</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Wix Begins to Think</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">II</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Easy Money</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">III</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Young Wix Takes a Hand</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">IV</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Easiest Way</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">V</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Wix Disappears Forever</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">VI</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Sad Disappointment</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">VII</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Green-Goods Playlet</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">VIII</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Double Cross</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">IX</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Spoiling the Egyptians</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">X</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Eating Cake and Having It</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XI</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Brief Character Bit</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XII</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Wallingford Is Frozen Out</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XIII</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Beauty in the Spot-Light</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XIV</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">An Old Score Evened Up</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XV</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Taking His Money</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XVI</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Enjoying Themselves</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XVII</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">J. Rufus Seeks Investment</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XVIII</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Speculation in Real Estate</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XIX</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Great Art Center</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XX</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Etruscan Black Mud</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XXI</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Great Vittoreo Matteo</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XXII</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Surprise of His Life</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_288">288</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XXIIII</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Still Another Surprise</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_298">298</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XXIV</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Straight Business</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XXV</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Sciatacata Company</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XXVI</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Delusion and a Snare</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_331">331</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="right">XXVII</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Laugh at That Woozy Feeling</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p><h1>YOUNG<br />
+WALLINGFORD</h1>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>WHEREIN JONATHAN REUBEN WIX BEGINS TO THINK</h3>
+
+<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">&#8220;</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span> natural again!&#8221; exulted Jonathan Reuben Wix, as the dice bounded
+from his plump hand and came to rest upon the billiard-table in
+Leiniger&#8217;s Select Caf&eacute;, with a five and a deuce showing. &#8220;Somebody
+ring the bell for me, because I&#8217;m a-going to get off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He was a large young man in every dimension, broad of chest and big
+and pink of face and jovial of eye, and he chuckled as he passed the
+dice to his left-hand neighbor. There was a hundred dollars on the
+table and he gathered it up in a wad.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-by, boys, and many merry thanks for these kind contributions,&#8221;
+he bantered as he stuffed the money into his pocket. &#8220;It&#8217;s me for
+Bunkville-amidst-the-ferry-boats, on the next Limited.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p><p>He was back in less than three days, having spent just twenty-four
+hours in New York. The impulsively decided journey was nothing unusual
+for him, but it had an intimate bearing upon his future in that it
+forced upon him the confidence of secretive Clifford Gilman, who lived
+next door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Home so soon?&#8221; inquired Gilman in surprise. &#8220;They must have robbed
+you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Robbed!&#8221; laughed Wix. &#8220;I should say not. I didn&#8217;t waste a cent.
+Railroad ticket, sleepers, meals and extra fare on the Limited cost
+twenty-five each way. That left fifty. My room at the hotel cost five
+dollars. Breakfast was two dollars; morning drive through Central
+Park, four; lunch, three-fifty; matin&eacute;e ticket, with cab each way,
+five; dinner, eight, with the ordinary champagne of commerce; theater
+and cab hire, five-fifty; supper, twelve, including a bottle of real
+champagne at eight dollars, and the balance in tips.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Clifford gasped as he hungrily reviewed these luscious items.</p>
+
+<p>Young Gilman was not one of those who had been in the game by which
+Wix had won a hundred. He never played dice, did young Gilman, nor
+poker, nor bet on a horse race, nor drank, nor even smoked; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>but
+wore curly, silken sideburns, and walked up the same side of Main
+Street every morning to the bank, with his lunch in a little
+imitation-leather box. He walked back down the same side of Main
+Street every evening. If he had happened to take the other side on any
+morning, before noon there would have been half a dozen conservative
+depositors to ask old Smalley, who owned the bank, why Clifford had
+crossed over.</p>
+
+<p>Young Gilman was popularly regarded as a &#8220;sissy,&#8221; but that he had
+organs, dimensions and senses, and would bleed if pricked, was
+presently evidenced to Mr. Wix in a startling proposition.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look here, Wix,&#8221; said Gilman, lowering his voice to a mystery-fraught
+undertone, &#8220;I&#8217;m going to take a little trip and I want you to come
+along.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Behave!&#8221; admonished Wix. &#8220;It would be awful reckless in me to go with
+a regular little devil like you; and besides, sarsaparilla and peanuts
+tear up my system so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got three hundred dollars,&#8221; stated Gilman calmly. &#8220;Does that
+sound like sarsaparilla and peanuts?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m listening,&#8221; said Wix with sudden interest. &#8220;Where did you get it,
+mister?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>Gilman looked around them nervously, then spoke in an eager whisper,
+clutching Wix by the arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Saved it up, but like you do. I saw the wisdom of your way long ago.
+Old Smalley makes me put half my salary in the bank, but I pinch out a
+little more than that, and every time I get twenty dollars on the
+side, I invest it in margin wheat, by mail. Most often I lose, but
+when I do win I keep on until it amounts to something. Of course, I&#8217;m
+laying myself open to you in this. If old Smalley found it out he&#8217;d
+discharge me on the spot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wix chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; he agreed. &#8220;My mother once wanted me to apply for that job.
+I went to see old Smalley, and the first thing he did was to examine
+my fingers for cigarette stains. &#8216;You won&#8217;t find any,&#8217; I told him,
+&#8216;for I use a holder,&#8217; and I showed him the holder. Of course, that
+settled my case with Smalley; but do you know that he smokes
+after-dinner cigarettes away from home, and has beer and whisky and
+three kinds of wine in his cellar? I&#8217;ve got his number, all right, but
+I didn&#8217;t have little Clifford&#8217;s. Where do you hide it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the bank and here at home,&#8221; returned Gilman with a snarl; &#8220;and
+I&#8217;ve been at it so long I&#8217;m beginning <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>to curdle. You&#8217;ve worked in
+every mercantile establishment, factory and professional office in
+town, and never cared to hold a job. Yet everybody likes you. You
+drink, smoke, gamble and raise the dickens generally. You don&#8217;t save a
+cent and yet you always manage to have money. You dress swell and
+don&#8217;t amount to a tinker&#8217;s cuss, yet you&#8217;re happy all day long. Come
+along to the Putnam County Fair and show me how.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Putnam County Fair!&#8221; repeated Wix. &#8220;Two hundred miles to get a
+drink?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t take one any closer, can I?&#8221; demanded Gilman savagely. &#8220;But
+the real reason is that Uncle Thomas lives there. I can go to visit
+Uncle Thomas when I wouldn&#8217;t be allowed to &#8216;go on the cars alone&#8217;
+anywhere else. But uncle is a good fellow and his wife don&#8217;t write to
+my mother. He tells me to go ahead; and I don&#8217;t need go near him
+unless I&#8217;m in trouble.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some time I&#8217;ll borrow your Uncle Tom,&#8221; laughed Wix. &#8220;He sounds good
+to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Gilman came to the door. She was a thin, nervous, little woman,
+with a long chin and a narrow forehead.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come in, Cliffy,&#8221; she urged in a shrill, wheedling <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>voice. &#8220;You must
+have a good, long night&#8217;s rest for your trip in the morning.&#8221; In
+reality she was worried to have her Clifford talking with the
+graceless Wix&mdash;though secretly she admired Jonathan Reuben.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I must go in now,&#8221; said Gilman hastily. &#8220;Go down to the train in the
+morning and get in on the other side, so mother won&#8217;t see you. And
+don&#8217;t tell your mother where you&#8217;ve gone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She won&#8217;t ask,&#8221; responded Wix, laughing. &#8220;Nothing ever worries mother
+except our name. I don&#8217;t like it myself, but I don&#8217;t worry over it. It
+isn&#8217;t my fault, and it was hers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>If Wix felt any trace of bitterness over his mother&#8217;s indifference he
+never confessed it, even to himself. Mrs. Wix, left a sufficient
+income by the late unloved, lived entirely by routine, with a
+separate, complacent function for every afternoon of the week. She was
+very comfortable, and plump, and placid, was Mrs. Wix, and Jonathan
+Reuben was merely an excrescence upon her scheme of life. Jonathan
+Reuben, however, had no lack of feminine sympathy. Quite a little
+clique of dashing young matrons, with old or dryly preoccupied
+husbands, vied with the girls to make him happy.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p><p>In the present instance, young Wix was quite right about his mother&#8217;s
+indifference. He called to her as he went down to early breakfast that
+he might not be back for a few days, and she sleepily answered. &#8220;All
+right.&#8221; So Clifford and his instructor went to the fair, and the more
+experienced spendthrift showed the amateur how to get rid of his
+money, to their mutual gratification.</p>
+
+<p>Back of the Streets of Cairo, on the closing day, Wix and Gilman,
+hunting a drink, found a neat young man with piercing black eyes and
+black hair, who upon the previous days had been making a surreptitious
+hand-book on the races. Just now he was advising an interested group
+of men that money would not grow in their pockets.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If your eye is quicker than my hand you get my dollars,&#8221; he
+singsonged as he deftly shifted three English walnut shells about on a
+flimsy folding stand. &#8220;If my hand is quicker than your eye, I get your
+dollars. Here they go, three in a row. They&#8217;re all set, and here&#8217;s a
+double sawbuck for some gentleman with a like amount of wealth and a
+keen eye and a little courage. Where, oh, where, is the little pea?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The location of the little pea was so obvious that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>it seemed a shame
+to take the black-eyed young man&#8217;s money, for just as he had stopped
+moving the shells, Wix and Gilman, pressing up, saw that the edge of
+the left-hand shell had rested upon the rubber &#8220;pea&#8221; and had
+immediately closed over it. Notwithstanding this slip on the part of
+the operator, there seemed some reluctance on the part of the audience
+to invest; instead, with what might have seemed almost suspicious
+eagerness, they turned toward the new-comers. Gilman, flushed of face
+and muddy of eye, and hiccoughing slightly&mdash;though Wix, who had drunk
+with him drink for drink, was clean and normal and his usual jovial,
+clear-eyed self&mdash;hastily pressed in before any one else should take
+advantage of the golden chance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t, Gilman,&#8221; cautioned Wix, and grabbed him by the arm, but
+Clifford, still eager, jerked his arm away; and it was strange how all
+those who had been packed around the board made room for him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s the boy with the nerve and the money,&#8221; commented the
+black-eyed one as he took Mr. Gilman&#8217;s twenty and flaunted it in the
+air with his own. &#8220;Now lift up the little shell. If the little pea is
+under it you get the twin twenties. Lovely twins!&#8221; He laughed and
+kissed them lightly. &#8220;It&#8217;s only a question,&#8221; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>he shouted loudly, as
+Gilman prepared to make his choice, &#8220;of whether your eye is quicker
+than my hand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Confidently Mr. Gilman picked up the left-hand shell, and a
+ludicrously bewildered look came over his face as he saw that the
+pellet was not under it. There was a laugh from the crowd. They had
+been waiting for another victim. Gilman looked hastily down at the
+trampled mass of straw and grass and muddy, black earth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The elusive little pea is not on the ground,&#8221; explained the brisk
+young man. &#8220;The elusive little pea is right here on the board in plain
+sight.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>To prove it he lifted up the center shell and displayed the pellet!
+There was another laugh. Not one person in that crowd had seen the
+dexterous movement of his little finger, so quick and certain that it
+was scarcely more than a quiver; but, to make sure that his &#8220;quickness
+of hand&#8221; had not been detected, he scanned every face about him
+swiftly and piercingly. In this inspection his eye happened to light
+on that of Jonathan Reuben Wix, and met a wink so knowing, and withal
+so bubbling with gleeful appreciation, that he was himself forced to
+grin.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;How you&#8217;ve wasted your young life,&#8221; commented Wix as he led away his
+still dazed companion. &#8220;I thought everybody knew that trick by this
+time, but I guess postmasters and bank clerks are always exempt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But how did he do it?&#8221; protested Gilman. &#8220;I saw that little ball
+under the left-hand shell as plain as day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what he meant you to see,&#8221; returned Wix with a grin. &#8220;He let
+that one stop under the edge as if he were awkward, then he flipped it
+into the crook of his little finger. When he lifted the middle shell
+he shoved the ball under it. At the time you picked yours up there
+wasn&#8217;t a ball under any of the three shells. There never is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess it&#8217;s too late for me to get an education,&#8221; sighed the other
+plaintively. &#8220;Smalley won&#8217;t give me a chance. I don&#8217;t even dare buy a
+new suit of clothes too often. I&#8217;d never see a bit of life if it
+wasn&#8217;t for this wheat speculation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wix turned to him slowly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You want to let that game alone,&#8221; he cautioned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m cautious enough,&#8221; returned Gilman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re almost in full charge at the bank now, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>aren&#8217;t you?&#8221; observed
+Wix carelessly. &#8220;Smalley&#8217;s over at his new bank in Milton a good
+deal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;About half the time,&#8221; admitted Gilman uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He keeps a big cash reserve, doesn&#8217;t he? Done up in bales, I suppose,
+and never looks at it except to count the mere bundles.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course.&#8221; Gilman was extremely nonchalant about it.</p>
+
+<p>The other let him change the subject, but he found himself studying
+Clifford speculatively every now and then. This day was another
+deciding step in the future of Wix.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BLACK-EYED YOUNG MAN DISCOURSES OF EASY<br />
+MONEY</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">I</span>t was to Jonathan Reuben that the waiters in the dining-car paid
+profound attention, although Gilman had the money. There was something
+about young Wix&#8217;s breadth of chest and pinkness of countenance and
+clearness of smiling eye which marked him as one with whom good food
+agreed, whom good liquor cheered, and whom good service thawed to the
+point of gratitude and gratuities: whereas Clifford Gilman, take him
+any place, was only background, and not much of that.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, General Jackson,&#8221; observed Wix pleasantly to the waiter, &#8220;put a
+quart of bubbles in the freezer while we study over this form sheet.
+Then bring us a dry Martini, <i>not</i> out of a bottle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I reckon you&#8217;re going to have about what you want, boss,&#8221; said the
+negro with a grin, and darted away.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p>He talked with the steward, who first frowned, then smiled, as he
+looked back and saw the particular guest. A moment later he was
+mixing, and Clifford Gilman gazed upon his friend with most worshipful
+eyes. Here, indeed, was a comrade of whom to be proud, and by whom to
+pattern!</p>
+
+<p>They had swallowed their oysters and had finished their soup, with a
+quart of champagne in a frosty silver bucket beside them and the
+entr&eacute;e on the way, when the &#8220;captain&#8221; was compelled to seat a third
+passenger at their table. It was the black-eyed young man of the
+walnut shells.</p>
+
+<p>At first, as with his quick sweep he recognized in Mr. Gilman one of
+his victims, he hesitated, but a glance at the jovial Mr. Wix
+reassured him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re just going to open a bottle of joy,&#8221; invited Wix. &#8220;Shall I send
+for another glass?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Surest thing, you know,&#8221; replied the other. &#8220;I&#8217;m some partial to
+headache water.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is on the victim,&#8221; observed Wix with a laugh, as the cork was
+pulled. &#8220;You see he has coin left, even after attending your little
+party.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pity I didn&#8217;t know he was so well padded,&#8221; grinned the black-eyed
+one, whereat all three laughed, Gilman more loudly than any of them.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>Gilman ceased laughing, however, to struggle with his increasing
+tendency toward cross-eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Wix turned to him with something of contempt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He don&#8217;t mind the loss of twenty or so,&#8221; he dryly observed. &#8220;He&#8217;s in
+a business where he sees nothing but money all day long. He&#8217;s a highly
+trusted bank clerk.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Instead of glancing with interest at Mr. Gilman, the black-eyed young
+man sharply scrutinized Mr. Wix. Then he smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what line are you in?&#8221; he finally asked of Wix.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been in everything,&#8221; confessed that joyous young gentleman with
+a chuckle, &#8220;and stayed in nothing. Just now, I&#8217;m studying law.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doing nothing on the side?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He can&#8217;t save any money to go into anything else,&#8221; laughed Gilman,
+momentarily awakened into a surprising semblance of life. &#8220;Every time
+he gets fifty dollars he goes out of town to buy a fancy meal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You were born for easy money,&#8221; the black-eyed one advised Wix. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+that sort of a lip that drives us all into the shearing business.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p><p>Wix shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not me,&#8221; said he. &#8220;The law books prove that easy money costs too
+much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The black-eyed one shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In certain lines it does,&#8221; he admitted. &#8220;I&#8217;m going to get out of my
+line right away, for that very reason. Besides,&#8221; he added with a sigh,
+&#8220;these educated town constables are putting the business on the
+bump-the-bumps. They&#8217;ve got so they want from half to two-thirds, and
+put a bookkeeper on the job.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gilman presently created a diversion by emitting a faint whoop,
+and immediately afterward went to sleep in the bread-platter. Wix sent
+for the porter of their sleeping-car, and between the two they put Mr.
+Gilman to bed. Before Wix returned to the shell expert he carefully
+extracted the money from his friend Clifford&#8217;s pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He won&#8217;t need it, anyhow,&#8221; he lightly explained, &#8220;and we will. I&#8217;ll
+tell him about it in the morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess you can do that and make him like it all right,&#8221; agreed the
+other. &#8220;He&#8217;s a born sucker. He can get to the fat money, can&#8217;t he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wix shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; he declared; &#8220;parents poor, and I don&#8217;t <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>think he has enough
+ginger in him ever to make a pile of his own.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The other was thoughtful and smiling for a time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;ll get hold of it some way or other, mark what I tell you, and you
+might just as well have it as anybody. Somebody&#8217;s going to cop it. I
+think you said you lived in Filmore? Suppose I drop through there with
+a quick-turn proposition that would need two or three thousand, and
+would show that much profit in a couple of months? If you help me pull
+it through I&#8217;ll give you a slice out of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wix was deeply thoughtful, but he made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t live this way all the time, and you&#8217;d like to,&#8221; urged the
+other. &#8220;There&#8217;s no reason you shouldn&#8217;t. Why, man, the bulk of this
+country is composed of suckers that are able to lay hands on from one
+to ten thousand apiece. They&#8217;ll spend ten years to get it and can be
+separated from it in ten minutes. You&#8217;re one of the born separators.
+You were cut out for nothing but easy money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Easy money! The phrase sank into the very soul of Jonathan Reuben Wix.
+Every professional, commercial and manufacturing man who knew him had
+predicted for him a brilliant future; but they had given him false
+credit for his father&#8217;s patience to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>plod for years. Heredity had only
+given him, upon his father&#8217;s side, selfishness and ingenuity; upon his
+mother&#8217;s side, selfishness and a passion for luxurious comfort, and
+now, at twenty-six, he was still a young man without any prospect
+whatsoever.</p>
+
+<p>Easy money! He was still dreaming of it; looking lazily for chance to
+throw it his way, and reading law, commercial law principally, in a
+desultory fashion, though absorbing more than he knew, when one day,
+about six months afterward, the black-haired young man landed in
+Filmore. He was growing a sparse, jet-black mustache now, and wore a
+solemn, black frock-coat which fitted his slender frame like a glove.
+He walked first into the Filmore Bank, and by his mere appearance
+there nearly scared Clifford Gilman into fits.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess you don&#8217;t remember me,&#8221; said the stranger with a smile. &#8220;My
+name is Horace G. Daw, and I had the pleasure of doing a little
+business with you at the Putnam County Fair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I&mdash;I&mdash;remember,&#8221; admitted Gilman, thankful that there were no
+depositors in, and looking apprehensively out of the door. &#8220;What can I
+do for you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have a little business opportunity that I think <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>would about suit
+you,&#8221; said Mr. Daw, reaching toward his inside coat pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not here; not here!&#8221; Gilman nervously interrupted him. &#8220;Somebody
+might come in at any minute, even Mr. Smalley himself. He&#8217;s started
+for the train, but he might come back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When, then, can I see you?&#8221; demanded Daw, seeing that Gilman was
+afraid of him. He had intended to meet the young man upon terms of
+jovial cordiality, but this was better.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Any time you say, out of hours,&#8221; said Gilman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then suppose you come down to the Grand Hotel at from seven-thirty to
+eight o&#8217;clock.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; gulped Gilman. &#8220;I&#8217;ll be there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Under the circumstances Mr. Daw changed his plans immediately. He had
+meant to hunt up Mr. Wix also, but now he most emphatically did not
+wish to do so, and kept very closely to his hotel. Mr. Gilman, on the
+contrary, did wish to find Mr. Wix, and hunted frantically for him;
+but Wix, that day, obeying a sudden craving for squab, had gone fifty
+miles to dine!</p>
+
+<p>Alone, then, Gilman went in fear and trembling to the Grand Hotel, and
+was very glad indeed to be sheltered from sight in Mr. Daw&#8217;s room.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p><p>What would Mr. Gilman have to drink? Nothing, thank you. No, no wine.
+A highball? No, not a highball. Some beer? Not any beer, thank you.
+Nevertheless, Mr. Daw ordered a pitcher of draft beer with two
+glasses, and Mr. Gilman found himself sipping eagerly at it almost
+before he knew it: for after an enforced abstinence of months, that
+beer tasted like honey. Also, it was warming to the heart and
+exhilarating to the brain, and it enabled him to listen better to the
+wonderful opportunity Mr. Daw had to offer him.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed that Mr. Daw had obtained exclusive inside information about
+the Red Mud Gold Mine. Three genuine miners&mdash;presumably top-booted,
+broad-hatted and red neck-kerchiefed&mdash;had incorporated that company,
+and, keeping sixty per cent. of the stock for themselves, had placed
+forty per cent. of it in the East for sale. As paying ore had not been
+found in it, after weary months of prospecting, one of the three
+partners brought his twenty per cent. of the stock East, and Mr. Daw
+had bought it for a song. A song, mind you, a mere nothing. Mr. Daw,
+moreover, knew where the other forty per cent. had been sold, and it,
+too, could be bought for a song. But now here came the point. After
+the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>departure of the disgruntled third partner the others had found
+gold! The two fortunate miners were, however, carefully concealing
+their good luck, because they were making most strenuous endeavors to
+raise enough money to buy in the outstanding stock before the holders
+realized its value.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gilman, pouring another amber glassful for himself, nodded his
+head in vast appreciation. Smart men, those miners.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Daw had been fortunate enough to glean these facts from a returned
+miner whom he had befriended in early years, and fortunate enough,
+too, to secure samples of the ore, all of which had happened within
+the past week. Here was one of the samples. <i>Look at those flecks!</i>
+Those were gold, virgin <i>gold</i>!</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gilman feasted his eyes on those flecks, their precious color
+richly enhanced when seen through four glasses of golden beer. That
+was actually gold, in the raw state. He strove to comprehend it.</p>
+
+<p>Here was the certified report of the assay, on the letter-head of the
+chemist who had examined the ore. It ran <i>a hundred and sixty-three
+dollars to the ton</i>! Marvelous; perfectly marvelous! Mr. Daw himself,
+even as he showed the assay, admired it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>over and over. As for Mr.
+Gilman, words could not explain how he was impressed. A genuine assay!</p>
+
+<p>Now, here is what Mr. Daw had done. Immediately upon receiving the
+report upon this assay he had scraped together all the money he could,
+and had bought up an additional ten per cent. of the stock of that
+company, which left him holding thirty per cent. Also, he had secured
+an option upon the thirty per cent. still outstanding. That additional
+thirty per cent. could be secured, if it were purchased at once, for
+three thousand dollars. Now, if Mr. Gilman could invest that much
+money, or knew any one who could, by pooling their stock Mr. Gilman
+and Mr. Daw would have sixty per cent. of the total incorporated stock
+of the company, and would thus hold control. Mr. Gilman certainly knew
+what that meant.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gilman did, for Mr. Smalley&#8217;s Filmore Bank had been started as a
+stock company, with Mr. Smalley holding control, and by means of that
+control Mr. Smalley had been able to vote himself sufficient salary to
+be able to buy up the balance of the stock, so that now it was all
+his; but Mr. Gilman could not see where it was possible for him to
+secure three thousand dollars for an investment of this nature.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>An investment? Mr. Daw objected. This was not an investment at all. It
+was merely the laying down of three thousand dollars and immediately
+picking it up again fourfold. Why, having secured this stock,
+all they had to do was to let the secret of the finding of the
+hundred-and-sixty-three-dollar-a-ton gold be known, and, having
+control to offer, they could immediately sell it, anywhere, for four
+times what they had paid for it. The entire transaction need not take
+a week: it need not take four days.</p>
+
+<p>Now, here is what Mr. Daw would do&mdash;that is, after he had ordered
+another pitcher of beer. He had the thirty per cent. of stock with
+him. He spread it out before Mr. Gilman. It was most beautifully
+printed stock, on the finest of bond paper, with gold-leaf letters, a
+crimson border and green embellishments, and was carefully numbered in
+metallic blue. It was also duly transferred in the name of Horace G.
+Daw. Mr. Daw would do this: In order that Mr. Gilman might be
+protected from the start, Mr. Daw would, upon taking Mr. Gilman&#8217;s
+three thousand, make over to Mr. Gilman this very stock. He would then
+take Mr. Gilman&#8217;s three thousand and purchase the other thirty per
+cent. of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>stock in his, Mr. Daw&#8217;s, own name, and would, in the
+meantime, sign a binding agreement with Mr. Gilman that their stock
+should be pooled&mdash;that neither should sell without the consent of the
+other. It was a glorious opportunity! Mr. Daw was sorry he could not
+swing it all himself, but, being unable to do so, it immediately
+occurred to him that Mr. Gilman was the very man to benefit by the
+opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gilman looked upon that glittering sample of ore, that
+unimpeachable certified assay, those beautifully printed stock
+certificates of the Red Mud Gold Mining Company, and he saw yellow.
+Nothing but gold, rich, red mud gold, was in all his safe, sane and
+conservative vision. Here, indeed, was no risk, for here were proofs
+enough and to spare. Besides, the entire transaction was so plausible
+and natural.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By George, I&#8217;ll do it!&#8221; said Mr. Gilman, having already, in those few
+brief moments, planned what he would do with nine thousand dollars of
+profits. Mr. Daw was very loath to let Mr. Gilman go home after this
+announcement. He tried to get him to stay all night, so that they
+could go right down to the bank together in the morning and fix up the
+matter; for it must be understood that a glittering opportunity like
+this must be closed immediately. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>Mr. Gilman, as a business man of
+experience, could appreciate that. But there were weighty reasons why
+Mr. Gilman could not do this, no matter how much he might desire it,
+or see its advisability. Very well, then, Mr. Daw would simply draw up
+that little agreement to pool their stock, so that the matter could be
+considered definitely settled, and Mr. Daw would then wire, yet that
+night, to the holders of the remaining stock that he would take it.</p>
+
+<p>With much gravity and even pomp the agreement was drawn up and signed;
+then Mr. Gilman, taking the sage advice of Mr. Daw, drank seltzer and
+ammonia and ate lemon peel, whereupon he went home, keeping squarely
+in the center of the sidewalk to prove to himself that he could walk a
+straight line without wavering. Young Mr. Daw, meanwhile, clinging to
+that signed agreement as a mariner to his raft, sat upon the edge of
+his bed to rejoice and to admire himself; for this was Mr. Daw&#8217;s first
+adventure into the higher and finer degrees of &#8220;wise work,&#8221; and he was
+quite naturally elated over his own neatness and despatch.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>YOUNG WIX TAKES A HAND IN THE BLACK-EYED<br />
+ONE&#8217;S GAME</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he glowing end of a cigar upon the porch of the adjoining house told
+Gilman that young Wix was at home, and, full of his important
+enterprise, he stopped in front of the Wix gate to gloat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Gilman,&#8221; said Wix, sauntering down. &#8220;Out pretty late for a
+mere infant of twenty-four?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Little matter of business,&#8221; protested Mr. Gilman pompously, glancing
+apprehensively at the second-story window, where a shade was already
+drawn aside.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Business!&#8221; repeated Wix. &#8220;They put midnight business in jail at
+daylight.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush!&#8221; warned Gilman, with another glance at the window. &#8220;This is
+different. This is one of those lucky strokes that I have read about
+but never hoped would come my way,&#8221; and enthusiastically, in an
+undertone which Wix had to strain to hear, he recited all the details
+of the golden opportunity.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p><p>It was not so much experience as a natural trend of mind paralleling
+Mr. Daw&#8217;s which made Mr. Wix smile to himself all through this
+recital. He seemed to foresee each step in the plan before it was told
+him, and, when Mr. Gilman was through, the only point about which his
+friend was at all surprised, or even eager, was the matter of the
+three thousand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean to say you can swing that amount?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I think I can,&#8221; faltered Mr. Gilman. &#8220;In fact, I&mdash;I&#8217;m very sure of
+it. Although, of course, that&#8217;s a secret,&#8221; he hastily added.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where would you get it?&#8221; asked Wix incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, for a sure thing like this, if you must know,&#8221; said Gilman,
+gulping, but speaking with desperately businesslike decision, &#8220;I am
+sure Mr. Smalley would loan it to me. Although he wouldn&#8217;t want it
+known,&#8221; he again added quickly. &#8220;If you&#8217;d speak to him about it he&#8217;d
+deny it, and might even make me trouble for being so loose-tongued;
+so, of course, nobody must know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; said Wix slowly. &#8220;Well, Cliff, you just pass up this tidy
+little fortune.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pass it up!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes, let it slide on by. Look on it with scorn. Wriggle your fingers
+at it. Let somebody else have that nine thousand dollars clean profit
+from the investment of three, all in a couple of days. I&#8217;m afraid it
+would give you the short-haired paleness to make so much money so
+suddenly. Ever hear of that disease? The short-haired paleness comes
+from wearing horizontal stripes in a cement room.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment young Gilman pondered this ambiguous reply in silence,
+then out of his secret distress he blurted:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Wix, I&#8217;ve <i>got</i> to do something that will bring me in some
+money! I&#8217;ve run behind on my wheat trades. I&#8217;ve&mdash;I&#8217;ve <i>got</i> to do
+something!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wix, in the darkness, made a little startled movement, the involuntary
+placing of his finger-tips behind his ear; then he answered quietly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I told you to keep away from that game. I tried it myself and know
+all about it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, but I did it just the same,&#8221; answered Gilman.</p>
+
+<p>Wix chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course you did. You&#8217;re the woolly breed that keeps bucket-shops
+going. I&#8217;d like no better lazy life than just to run a bucket-shop and
+fill all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>my buckets with the fleeces of about a dozen of your
+bleating kind. It would be easy money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The front door of the Gilman house opened a little way, and the voice
+of a worried woman came out into the night:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that you, Cliffy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, mother,&#8221; answered Clifford. &#8220;Good night, old man. I want to be
+sure to see you before I go to the bank in the morning. I want to talk
+this thing over with you,&#8221; and young Gilman hurried into the house.</p>
+
+<p>Wix looked after him as he went in, and stood staring at the glowing
+second-story window. Then he suddenly went back up to his own porch
+and got his hat. Fifteen minutes later he was at the desk of the Grand
+Hotel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Daw,&#8221; he said to the clerk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think Mr. Daw&#8217;s probably gone to bed by this time, Wix,&#8221; the clerk
+protested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll wake him up, then. What&#8217;s the number of his room? I&#8217;ll do it
+myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The clerk grinned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If he kicks, you know, Wix, I can&#8217;t blame you for it. I&#8217;ll have to
+stand it myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He won&#8217;t kick. What&#8217;s his room?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Number one,&#8221; and again the clerk grinned. Nobody ever point-blank
+refused young Wix a favor. There was that in his bigness, and in the
+very jollity with which he defied life and its pretended gravity,
+which opened all doors to him. His breadth of chest had much to do
+with it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The bridal chamber, eh?&#8221; he chuckled. &#8220;In that case, send up a bottle
+of champagne and charge it to Mr. Daw&#8217;s account. Yes, I know the bar&#8217;s
+closed, but you have a key. Go dig it out yourself, Joe, and do it in
+style.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Unattended, Mr. Wix made his way to room one and pounded on the door.
+Mr. Daw, encased in blue pajamas and just on the point of retiring,
+opened cautiously, and was quite crestfallen when he recognized his
+visitor. Nevertheless, he thawed into instant amiability.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Glad to see you, old scout,&#8221; he cried, and shaking hands with Wix,
+pulled him into the room. &#8220;I felt as if the old homestead was no
+longer home when I didn&#8217;t find you here to-day. Sit down. What&#8217;ll you
+have to drink?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wine, thanks,&#8221; replied Wix. &#8220;They&#8217;re getting it ready now. I gave
+them your order before I came up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p><p>Mr. Daw gasped and batted his eyes, but swallowed quickly and had it
+over with.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; explained Wix, as they seated themselves comfortably. &#8220;I
+thought, since we wouldn&#8217;t have time for many drinks, that we might
+just as well make it a good one. I brought up this timetable. There&#8217;s
+a train leaves for the East at five-thirty-seven this morning, and one
+leaves for the West at six-ten. Which are you going to take?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, neither one,&#8221; said Daw in some surprise. &#8220;I have some business
+here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; admitted Wix dryly; &#8220;I just saw Gilman. Which train are you
+taking?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Neither, I said,&#8221; snapped Daw, frowning, &#8220;I don&#8217;t intend to leave
+here until I finish my work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, you do,&#8221; Wix informed him. &#8220;You&#8217;re going about the time
+Gilman is washing his face for breakfast; and you won&#8217;t leave any word
+for him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you know so well?&#8221; retorted Daw. &#8220;Look here, Mr. Wix, this
+proposition I&#8217;m offering Gilman is a fair and square&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You say that again and I&#8217;ll bite you,&#8221; interrupted Wix pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got a pretty good left-handed punch of my own,&#8221; flared Daw,
+advancing a threatening step.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p><p>Wix, though much the larger man, betrayed his touch of physical
+cowardice by a fleeting shade of pallor, and moved over next the door.
+The Grand Hotel had not installed a room telephone service, still
+relying upon the convenient push-button. To this, Wix, affecting to
+treat the entire incident as a joke, called attention.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One ring, ice water,&#8221; he read from the printed card above it; &#8220;two
+rings, bell boy; three rings, maid. I think about six rings will bring
+the clerk, the porter and the fire department,&#8221; he observed; &#8220;but I
+don&#8217;t see where we need them in a quiet little business talk like
+ours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I see!&#8221; said Daw in the sudden flood of a great white light, and
+he smiled most amiably. &#8220;I promised you a rake-off when I spoke about
+this on the train, didn&#8217;t I? And, of course, I&#8217;m willing to stick with
+it. If I pull this across there&#8217;s a thousand in it for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. It won&#8217;t do,&#8221; said Wix, shaking his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say fifteen hundred, then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Once more Wix shook his head. He, also, smiled most amiably.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess you want it all?&#8221; charged Daw with a sneer.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Possibly,&#8221; admitted Wix, then suddenly he chuckled so that his big
+shoulders heaved. &#8220;To tell you the truth,&#8221; he stated, &#8220;I didn&#8217;t know
+Gilman could put up so big a prize as all that nice money, or he
+wouldn&#8217;t have had it loose to offer you by now. As soon as I get over
+the shock I&#8217;ll know what to do about it. Just now, all I know is that
+he&#8217;s not going into this real silky little joke of yours. I don&#8217;t want
+to see the money go out of town.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw it first,&#8221; Daw reminded him. &#8220;I don&#8217;t care where he gets it,
+you know, just so I get it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wherever he gets it,&#8221; said Wix impressively, &#8220;it will be secured in a
+perfectly legitimate manner. I want you to understand that much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, I understood that, anyhow,&#8221; acknowledged Daw, and the two
+young men looked quite steadily into each other&#8217;s eyes, each knowing
+what the other thought, but refusing to admit it.</p>
+
+<p>It was Daw who first broke the ensuing silence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Suppose I can&#8217;t decide to wing my onward way?&#8221; he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then I&#8217;ll have you looking out on court-house square through the big
+grill.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On what charge?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;General principles,&#8221; chuckled Wix.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I suppose there&#8217;s a heavy stretch for that if they prove it on me,&#8221;
+returned Daw thoughtfully. There was no levity whatever in the reply.
+He had read the eyes of Wix correctly. Wix would have him arrested as
+sure as breakfast, dinner and supper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just general principles,&#8221; repeated Wix; &#8220;to be followed by a general
+investigation. Can you stand it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should say I can,&#8221; asserted Daw. &#8220;What time did you say that train
+leaves? The one going east, I mean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Five-thirty-seven.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then, if you don&#8217;t mind, you may leave me a call for five o&#8217;clock;&#8221;
+and Mr. Daw nonchalantly yawned.</p>
+
+<p>There came a knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry you have to leave us so soon, Mr. Daw,&#8221; said Wix, admitting
+the clerk with the wine, and speaking with much regret in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll clink glasses with you, anyhow, old sport,&#8221; offered Daw,
+accepting the inevitable gracefully, after the clerk had gone. &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know what your game is, but here&#8217;s to it! Always remember,
+though, that I located this three thousand for you. I hate to leave it
+here. It was such easy money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Easy money!&#8221; Again that phrase rang in the ears of young Wix, as he
+walked home, as he stood at his gate looking over at the second-story
+window of the Gilman house, and as he lay upon his pillow. To dwell in
+perpetual ease, to be surrounded with endless luxury, to spend money
+prodigally in all the glitter and pomp of the places that had been
+built at the demand of extravagance: these things had become an
+obsession with him&mdash;yet, for them, he was not willing to work and
+wait.</p>
+
+<p>Gilman felt that he had lost vast estates, when, upon calling at the
+hotel in the morning, he found that Mr. Daw had left upon an early
+train. He was worried, too, that he had not been able to see Wix
+before he started down-town. Most opportunely, however, Wix sauntered
+out of Sam Glidden&#8217;s cigar store, opposite the hotel, as Gilman
+emerged upon the street.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When&#8217;s the funeral?&#8221; asked Wix. &#8220;You look like a sick-headache
+feels.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Daw has gone, and without leaving me any word,&#8221; quavered Gilman. &#8220;I
+suppose he&#8217;ll&mdash;he&#8217;ll probably write to me, though.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m betting that he has writer&#8217;s cramp every time he tries it,&#8221;
+asserted Wix.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;But I signed an agreement with him last night. He must write.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does this look anything like that agreement,&#8221; asked Wix, and from his
+pocket drew the document, torn once across each way. Gilman gazed at
+the pieces blankly. &#8220;I got it away from him, and tore it up myself,
+last night,&#8221; continued Wix. &#8220;Also, I ran the gentleman out of town on
+the five-thirty-seven this morning, headed due east and still going.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221; gasped Gilman. &#8220;Why, man, you&#8217;ve taken away the
+only chance I had to get even. I <i>have</i> to make money, I tell you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Be calm, little Cliffy,&#8221; admonished Wix soothingly. &#8220;I&#8217;m going to get
+it its money. Look here, Gilman, this man was a fake and I made him
+say so, but his coming here gave me an idea. I&#8217;m going to open a
+bucket-shop, and you&#8217;re going to back it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a bucket-shop!&#8221; objected Gilman, aghast at the very name.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, a bucket-shop. Do you know how they operate? Of course not,
+merely having played against them. Well, suppose you gamble a thousand
+bushels of wheat on a two-cent margin, holding for a two-cent advance.
+What happens to your twenty dollars? The bucket expert takes out his
+buying <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>commission of one-fourth cent a bushel. A straight broker
+takes off one-eighth cent, but your man milks you for a nifty little
+total of two dollars and a half, because you&#8217;re a piker. If wheat goes
+down one and three-fourths cents you lose the other seventeen-fifty,
+don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; admitted Gilman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If it goes up two cents the man closes the deal and takes out another
+one-fourth cent a bushel for closing. That&#8217;s another two-fifty. You
+get back thirty-five dollars. Your bucket-shop man is practically
+betting fifteen dollars of his money against twenty of yours on worse
+than an even break. Pretty good game for the bucket-shop man, isn&#8217;t
+it? But there&#8217;s more. He doesn&#8217;t take as much risk as matching pennies
+on a three-to-four shot. Suppose he has one man betting that wheat
+will go up and another that it will go down. Each man puts up twenty,
+and one must lose. The man with the bucket runs no chances, and every
+time he takes in forty dollars he pays out only thirty-five of it.
+Twelve and one-half per cent. of all the money that passes through his
+hands stays there. Moreover, the winner puts his right back into the
+game, and the loser rakes up more, to win back what he lost. Pretty
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>syrupy, eh? The only trouble with you is that you have been playing
+this game from the wrong end. Now, you&#8217;re going to play it from the
+inside. I&#8217;m going to rent an office to-day. You&#8217;re to back me to the
+extent of three thousand dollars, and we&#8217;ll split the profits.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Gilman&#8217;s eyes glistened. He was one who did his thinking by proxy, and
+reflected enthusiasm with vast ease.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you suppose it would take the three thousand all at once?&#8221; he
+asked with some anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, we won&#8217;t need it in a lump,&#8221; Wix decided, after some sharp
+thought over Gilman&#8217;s nervousness; &#8220;but it must be where we can get
+all or any part of it at a minute&#8217;s notice.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Gilman drew such an obvious breath of relief that Wix became once more
+thoughtful; but it was a thoughtfulness that brought with it only
+hardening of the jaw and steeling of the eyes.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>WHICH SHOWS THE EASIEST WAY TO MAKE A<br />
+BUCKET-SHOP PAY</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>ithin three days, Wix, who was a curious blend of laziness and
+energy, had fitted up an office in a sample-room leading off the lobby
+of the Grand Hotel. Over the name on the door he puzzled somewhat, and
+it was only his hatred for every component syllable of &#8220;Jonathan
+Reuben Wix&#8221; that caused the sign finally to appear as &#8220;La Salle Grain
+and Stock Brokerage Company.&#8221; The walls were freshly papered in deep
+red, a thick, red carpet was put upon the floor, a resplendent
+cashier&#8217;s wicket and desk were installed, fine leather-padded chairs
+faced a neatly ruled blackboard; and the speculative element of
+Filmore walked right into its first real bucket-shop and made itself
+at home. It was a positive pleasure to lose money there, and it was a
+joy to have young Wix take it. He did it so jovially.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p><p>Punctually every evening Wix handed to Gilman his half of the profits
+on the trades closed that day, and each week the profits became
+larger. Gilman was thrown into a constant state of delight; Wix bought
+him a horse and buggy. Gilman saw fortune just ahead of him; Wix saw
+possible disaster. It pained him to note that Filmore was optimistic.
+There were many more bulls than bears, which was not the ideal
+condition. There should have been a bear to offset every bull, in
+which case the La Salle Grain and Stock Brokerage Company would have
+run no risk whatever.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, the inevitable happened. All the wheat and stock gamblers
+of Filmore got in on a strong bull market and stayed in. When the
+market finally turned back and the &#8220;longs&#8221; were frightened out, the
+crash came, and every dollar was lost of the original three thousand.
+Wix, having anticipated the possibility of such an event, was
+disappointed but &#8220;game.&#8221; Gilman, having more at stake and being at
+best a cheerful winner only, was frantic.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What shall I do? What shall I do?&#8221; he moaned, over and over.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dig up more money,&#8221; Wix cheerfully advised him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t!&#8221; cried Gilman. &#8220;I&#8217;ve gone now even deeper than I dared.&#8221; He
+was silent for a long time. Great beads of perspiration came on his
+brow. His hair was wet. &#8220;Wix,&#8221; he finally burst out, &#8220;I&#8217;ve got to tell
+you something; something that no living creature knows but me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, you don&#8217;t!&#8221; Wix sharply stopped him. &#8220;If you have any secrets,
+keep them to yourself. I am stone deaf.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Gilman&#8217;s eyes widened with a look of positive terror. For the first
+time in his life he had met that glare in the eyes of a supposed
+friend which denied friendship, sentiment or emotion of any sort;
+which told only of cold self-interest. Two or three times he essayed
+to speak, but he could not. He only stood with his sides heaving, like
+a spent dog.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There is no use whining about this thing,&#8221; Wix went on sharply.
+&#8220;We&#8217;ve got to raise money, and that&#8217;s all there is to it. How about
+your profits that I&#8217;ve been handing you? I&#8217;ve spent mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You said something about owing four hundred dollars before we began,&#8221;
+Wix went on. &#8220;I suppose you repaid that&mdash;that loan.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Gilman dumbly nodded.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve paid you over a thousand dollars rake-off. I suppose you saved
+the rest of it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again Gilman nodded his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, bring me that six hundred or whatever it is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Gilman mechanically produced it, all in one-hundred-dollar bills
+folded very flat.</p>
+
+<p>That morning Wix faced the business anew with six hundred dollars, and
+felt keenly his limited capital. His severe losses had been a good
+advertisement, and every man who had won a dollar was prepared to put
+it back. Wix, with a steady hand at the helm, stood through this
+crisis most admirably, refusing trades from buyers until he had
+sellers enough to offset them, and refusing excess trades from sellers
+until he had buyers to balance. Within two weeks he had a comfortable
+little sum, but now the daily division of spoils brought no balm to
+Gilman. He was suddenly old, and upon his face were appearing lines
+that would last him throughout his life. Upon the florid countenance
+of Wix there was not even the shadow of a crease.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good money, boy,&#8221; said he to Gilman, upon the day he handed over the
+completion of five hundred dollars. &#8220;This business is like a poker
+game. If the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>players stick at it long enough the kitty will have all
+the money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t want it all,&#8221; replied Gilman wearily. &#8220;Wix, if I ever get
+back the twenty-five hundred dollars that it will take to make me
+square, I swear before my Maker,&#8221; and he held up his trembling, white
+hand, &#8220;never to touch another investment outside the bank as long as I
+live.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your liver must be the color of a sick salmon,&#8221; retorted Wix, but
+nevertheless he was himself disillusioned. The bucket-shop business
+was not what he had imagined it to be. It was not &#8220;easy money!&#8221; It had
+fluctuations, must be constantly watched, was susceptible to
+bankruptcy&mdash;and meant work! The ideal enterprise was one which,
+starting from nothing, involved no possible loss; which yielded a
+large block of cold cash within a short time, and which was then
+ended. Daw&#8217;s idea was the most ideal that had come under his
+observation. That was really an admirable scheme of Daw&#8217;s, except for
+one very serious drawback. It was dangerous. Now, if as clever a plan,
+and one without any menace from the law, could only be hinged upon
+some more legitimate business&mdash;say a bucket-shop concern....</p>
+
+<p>There is no analyzing a creation, an invention. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>It is not
+deliberately worked out, step by step. It is a flash of genius. At
+this moment young Wix created. The principle he evolved was, in fact,
+to stand him in good stead in a score of &#8220;safe&#8221; operations, but, just
+now, it was a gaudy new thing, and its beauty almost blinded him. The
+same idea had been used by many men before him, but Wix did not know
+this, and he created it anew.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sam,&#8221; he said to the cigar-store man next morning, &#8220;I want you to
+invest in The La Salle Grain and Stock Brokerage Company.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not any,&#8221; declared Sam. &#8220;You have two hundred of my money now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not the entire roll,&#8221; denied Wix. &#8220;I only got twelve and one-half per
+cent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;d take twelve and a half per cent. eight times you&#8217;d have it
+all,&#8221; retorted Sam. &#8220;That&#8217;s why I quit. I stood to lose two hundred
+dollars on a seven-point drop, or win a hundred and seventy-five on an
+eight-point raise. When I finally figured out that I had the tweezers
+into my hair going and coming, I didn&#8217;t wish any more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But suppose I&#8217;d offer you a chance to stand on the other side of the
+counter and take part of the change?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I&#8217;d let you stand right here and talk a while. What&#8217;s the matter?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Haven&#8217;t capital enough,&#8221; explained Wix. &#8220;I think I refused to take a
+trade of yours one time, just because I had to play safe. I had to be
+in position to pay off all my losses or quit business.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How much are you increasing?&#8221; asked Glidden, interested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A twenty-five-thousand-dollar stock company: two hundred and fifty
+shares at a hundred dollars each.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I might take a share or two,&#8221; said Sam.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll take twenty,&#8221; declared Wix, quite sure of himself. &#8220;I want
+four incorporators besides myself, and I want you to be one of them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that getting me the stock any cheaper?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fifty per cent.; two thousand dollars&#8217; worth for a thousand. After we
+five incorporators are in we&#8217;ll raise the price to par and not sell a
+share for a cent less.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How much do you get out of this?&#8221; Sam asked, with a leer of
+understanding.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ten per cent. for selling the stock, and have the new company buy
+over the present one for ten thousand dollars&#8217; worth of shares.&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 409px;">
+<img src="images/i049.jpg" class="ispace" width="409" height="500" alt="&#8220;Sam,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I want you to invest&#8221;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;Sam,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I want you to invest&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I thought so,&#8221; said Glidden with a grin. &#8220;Fixtures, established
+business and good will, I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wix chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You put it in the loveliest words,&#8221; he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a bright young man,&#8221; said Glidden admiringly. &#8220;You&#8217;d better
+pay for those fixtures and put in the whole business at five hundred.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you suppose I&#8217;m enlarging the thing for, except to increase
+my income?&#8221; Wix demanded. &#8220;With ten thousand dollars&#8217; worth of stock
+I&#8217;d get only two-fifths of the profit, when I&#8217;ve been getting it all
+heretofore. As a matter of fact, I&#8217;m doing pretty well not to try to
+capture the majority.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They both laughed upon this, and Glidden capitulated. Within
+forty-eight hours Wix had his four directors, all ex-traders who would
+rather make money than gamble, and each willing to put in a thousand
+dollars. As soon as they were incorporated they paid Wix his hundred
+shares for the old business, and that developing financier started out
+to sell the balance of the stock, on commission.</p>
+
+<p>It was an easy task, for his fellow-directors did all the advertising
+for him. Practically all he had to do was to deliver the certificates
+and collect. It <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>was while he was engaged in this pleasant occupation
+that he went to Gilman with a blank certificate for twenty-five
+shares.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think you said, Gilman, that if you could get your remaining
+twenty-five hundred dollars out of the La Salle you&#8217;d be satisfied,
+didn&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Satisfied!&#8221; gasped Gilman. &#8220;Just show me how it can be done!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s twenty-five hundred dollars&#8217; worth of stock in the new company
+I&#8217;ve incorporated from the old one, and it&#8217;s selling&mdash;at par&mdash;like
+beer at a German picnic.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That would ruin me,&#8221; Gilman protested in a panic. &#8220;You must sell it
+for me or I&#8217;m gone. Why, Wix, this new state bank inspection law has
+just gone into effect, and there may be an inspector at the bank any
+day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; said Wix slowly, looking him straight in the eye, &#8220;and they
+may object to Smalley&#8217;s having loaned you that money on insufficient
+security. Well, I&#8217;ll see what I can do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he let Gilman&#8217;s stock lie while he sold the treasury
+shares, and, the market being still so eager that it seemed a shame
+not to supply it, <i>he sold his own</i>!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p><p>There was now time for Gilman, and Wix, with an artistic eye for
+dramatic propinquities, presented his proposition to no less a person
+than Smalley, grinning, however, as he went in.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t think of such a thing, sir,&#8221; squeaked that gentleman.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll have nothing to do with gambling in any way, shape or form.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; agreed Wix, and carefully closed the door of Smalley&#8217;s private
+office. &#8220;Well, this isn&#8217;t gambling, Mr. Smalley. It&#8217;s only the people
+outside who gamble. The La Salle doesn&#8217;t propose to take any chances;
+it only takes commissions,&#8221; and he showed to Mr. Smalley, very
+frankly, a record of his transactions, including the one disastrous
+period for the purpose of pointing out the flaw which had brought it
+about.</p>
+
+<p>Smalley inspected those figures long and earnestly, while Wix sat back
+smiling. He had penetrated through that leathery exterior, had
+discovered what no one else would have suspected: that in Smalley
+himself there ran a long-leashed gambling instinct.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I couldn&#8217;t possibly have my name connected with a matter of this
+sort,&#8221; was Smalley&#8217;s last citadel of objection.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Why should you?&#8221; agreed Wix, and then a diabolical thought came to
+him, in the guise of an exquisite joke. He had great difficulty in
+repressing a chuckle as he suggested it. &#8220;Why not put the stock in
+Gilman&#8217;s name?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It might be a very bad influence for the young man,&#8221; protested
+Smalley virtuously, but clutching at the suggestion. &#8220;He is thoroughly
+trustworthy, however, and I suppose I can explain it to him as being a
+really conservative investment that should have no publicity. I think
+you said, Mr. Wix, that there are only twenty-five shares remaining to
+be sold.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all,&#8221; Wix assured him. &#8220;You couldn&#8217;t secure another share if
+you wanted it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well, then, I think I shall take it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have the certificate in my pocket,&#8221; said Wix, and he produced the
+identical certificate that he had offered Gilman some days before. It
+had already been signed by the complacent Sam Glidden as secretary.
+&#8220;Make this out to Gilman, shall I?&#8221; asked Wix, seating himself at
+Smalley&#8217;s desk, and poising his pen above the certificate.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I believe so,&#8221; assented Smalley, pursing up his lips.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p><p>With a smile all of careless pleasure with the world, Wix wrote the
+name of Clifford M. Gilman, and signed the certificate as president.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, your check, Mr. Smalley, for twenty-five hundred, and the new La
+Salle Company is completely filled up, ready to start in business on a
+brand-new basis.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With his lips still pursed, Smalley made out that check, and Wix shook
+hands with him most cordially as he left the room. Outside the door he
+chuckled. He was still smiling when he walked up to the cashier&#8217;s
+wicket, where young Gilman sat tense and white-faced. Wix indorsed the
+check, and handed it through the wicket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s your twenty-five hundred, Cliff,&#8221; said he. &#8220;You can turn it
+over on the books of the bank as soon as you like.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Gilman strove to voice his great relief, but his lips quivered and his
+eyes filled, and he could only turn away speechless. Wix had gone out,
+and Gilman was still holding in his nerveless fingers the check that
+had saved him, when Smalley appeared at his side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah,&#8221; said Smalley; &#8220;I see you have the check I gave Mr. Wix. Did he
+deposit?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;No, sir,&#8221; replied Gilman, in a low voice; &#8220;he took currency.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smalley visibly winced.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A bill of exchange might have done him just as well,&#8221; he protested.
+&#8220;No non-employing person has need of actual currency in that amount.
+I&#8217;m afraid young Wix is very extravagant&mdash;very. By the way, Mr.
+Gilman, I have been forced, for protection and very much against my
+will, to take some stock in an enterprise with which I can not have my
+name associated for very obvious business reasons; so I have taken the
+liberty of having the stock made out in your name,&#8221; and, before young
+Gilman&#8217;s eyes, he spread his twenty-five-share certificate of The La
+Salle Grain and Stock Brokerage Company.</p>
+
+<p>Gilman, pale before, went suddenly ghastly. The blow of mockery had
+come too soon upon the heels of his relief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t have it,&#8221; he managed to stammer through parched lips. &#8220;I must
+refuse, sir. I&mdash;I can not be connected in any way with that business,
+Mr. Smalley. I&mdash;I abhor it. Never, as long as I live&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the fish-white face and staring eyes of Gilman were not in
+the line of Mr. Smalley&#8217;s astonished vision, for Gilman had slid to
+the floor, between <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>his high stool and his desk. Sam Glidden, coming
+into the bank a moment after, found Smalley working feverishly over
+the prostrate form of his feebly reviving clerk.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>JONATHAN REUBEN WIX CASTS ASIDE HIS ONLY<br />
+HANDICAP AND DISAPPEARS FOR EVER</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">J</span>ust as Jonathan Reuben Wix reached his home, a delivery man was
+taking in at the front door a fine dresser trunk. On the porch stood a
+new alligator traveling-bag, and a big, new suit-case of thick sole
+leather, trimmed profusely with the most expensive knobs and clamps,
+and containing as elaborate a toilet set as is made for the use of
+men. In the hall he found five big pasteboard boxes from his tailor.
+He had the trunk and the suit-case and the traveling-bag delivered up
+to his room; the clothing he carried up himself.</p>
+
+<p>That morning he had dressed himself in new linen throughout. Now he
+took off the suit he wore and put on one of the new business suits. He
+opened half a dozen huge bundles of haberdashery which he had
+purchased within the past week, and began packing them in his trunk:
+underwear, shirts, socks, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>collars, cravats, everything brand new and
+of the choicest quality. He packed away the other new business suit,
+the Prince Albert, the tuxedo, the dress suit&mdash;the largest individual
+order his tailor had ever received&mdash;putting into his trunk and
+suit-case and traveling-bag not one thing that he had ever worn
+before; nor did he put into any of his luggage a single book or
+keepsake, for these things had no meaning to him. When he was
+completely dressed and packed he went to his mother&#8217;s room and knocked
+on the door. It was her afternoon for the Women Journalists&#8217; Club, and
+she was very busy indeed over a paper she was to read on <i>The Press:
+Its Power for Evil</i>. Naturally, interruptions annoyed her very much.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, what is it, son?&#8221; she asked in her level, even tone as he came
+into the room. Her impatience was very nicely suppressed, indeed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to New York on the six-thirty,&#8221; he told her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Really, I don&#8217;t see how I can spare any money until the fifteenth,&#8221;
+she objected.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have plenty of money,&#8221; he assured her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; she replied with evident relief, and glanced longingly back at
+her neatly written paper.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I can even let you have some if you want it,&#8221; he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, thank you. I have sufficient, I am sure, portioned out to meet
+all demands, including the usual small surplus, up to the fifteenth.
+It&#8217;s very nice of you to offer it, however.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; he went on, after a moment&#8217;s hesitation, &#8220;I&#8217;m not coming
+back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She turned now, and faced him squarely for the first time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d better stay here,&#8221; she told him. &#8220;I&#8217;m afraid you&#8217;ll cost me
+more away from home than you do in Filmore.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall never cost you a cent,&#8221; he declared. &#8220;I have found out how to
+make money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She smiled in a superior way.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am a bit incredulous; but, after all, I don&#8217;t see why you
+shouldn&#8217;t. Your father at least had that quality, and you should have
+inherited something from him besides&#8221;&mdash;and she paused a trifle&mdash;&#8220;his
+name.&#8221; She sighed, and then continued: &#8220;Very well, son, I suppose you
+must carve out your own destiny. You are quite old enough to make the
+attempt, and I have been anticipating it for some time. After all, you
+really ought to have very little trouble <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>in impressing the world
+favorably. You dress neatly,&#8221; she surveyed him critically, &#8220;and you
+make friends readily. Shall I see you again before you go?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I scarcely think so. I have a little down-town business to look
+after, and shall take dinner on the train; so I&#8217;ll just say good-by to
+you now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He shook hands with her and stooped down, and they kissed each other
+dutifully upon the cheek. Mrs. Wix, being advanced, did not believe in
+kissing upon the mouth. After he had gone, a fleeting impression of
+loneliness weighed upon her as much as any purely sentimental
+consideration could weigh. She looked thoughtfully at the closed door,
+and a stirring of the slight maternal instinct within her made her
+vaguely wistful. She turned, still with that faint tugging within her
+breast which she could not understand, and it was purely mechanical
+that her eyes, dropping to the surface of the paper, caught the
+sentence: &#8220;Mental suggestion, unfit for growing minds, is upon every
+page.&#8221; The word &#8220;Mental&#8221; seemed redundant, and she drew her pen
+through it, neatly changing the &#8220;s&#8221; in &#8220;suggestion&#8221; to a capital.</p>
+
+<p>A cab drove past Wix as he started down the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>street and he saw Smalley
+in it. He turned curiously. What was Smalley doing there? He stopped
+until he saw the cab draw up in front of Gilman&#8217;s house. He saw
+Smalley assist young Gilman out of the cab, and Gilman&#8217;s mother run
+out to meet them. He was thoughtful for a moment over that, then he
+shrugged his shoulders and strode on.</p>
+
+<p>On the train that night as he swaggered into the dining-car, owning
+it, in effect, and all it contained, he saw, seated alone at a far
+table, no less a person than Horace G. Daw, as black and as natty as
+ever, and with a mustache grown long enough to curl a little bit at
+the ends.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, old pal,&#8221; greeted Daw. &#8220;Where now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going out alone into the cold, cold world, to make fortunes and
+spend them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Half of that stunt is a good game,&#8221; commented Mr. Daw.</p>
+
+<p>Wix chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Both ends of it look good to me,&#8221; he stated. &#8220;I&#8217;ve found the recipe
+for doing it, and it was you that tipped off the plan.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I certainly am the grand little tipper-off,&#8221; agreed Daw, going back
+in memory over their last meeting. &#8220;You got to that three thousand,
+did you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Oh, no,&#8221; said Wix. &#8220;I only used it to get a little more. Our friend
+Gilman has his all back again. Of course, I didn&#8217;t use your plan as it
+laid. It was too raw, but it gave me the suggestion from which I doped
+out one of my own. I&#8217;ve got to improve my system a little, though. My
+rake-off&#8217;s too small. In the wind-up I handled twenty-one thousand
+dollars, and only got away with eight thousand-odd of it for myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You haven&#8217;t it all with you?&#8221; asked Daw, a shade too eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Wix chuckled, his broad shoulders heaving and his pink face rippling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No use, kind friend,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Just dismiss it from your active but
+greedy mind. If anybody gets away unduly with a cent of this wad, all
+they need to do is to prove it to me, and I&#8217;ll make them a present of
+the balance. No, my dark-complected brother, the bulk of it is in a
+safe place in little old New York, where I can go get it as I need it;
+but I have enough along to buy, I think. It seems to me you bought
+last,&#8221; and they both grinned at the reminiscence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wasn&#8217;t thinking of trying to annex any of that coin,&#8221; lied Mr. Daw
+glibly, and changing entirely <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>his attitude toward Mr. Wix as his
+admiration grew; &#8220;but I was thinking that we might cook up something
+together. I&#8217;ll put up dollar for dollar with you. I&#8217;ve just been
+harvesting, myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again Wix chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Declined with thanks,&#8221; he returned. &#8220;I don&#8217;t mind trailing around a
+bit with you when we get to New York, and also meeting the carefully
+assorted selection of dead-sure-thing geniuses who must belong to your
+set, but I&#8217;ll go no further. For one thing, I don&#8217;t like the idea of a
+partner. It cramps me to split up. For another thing, I wouldn&#8217;t like
+to hook up in business with you. You&#8217;re not safe enough; you trifle
+too much with the law, which is not only foolish but unnecessary.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; retorted Daw. &#8220;How about this eight thousand or so that you
+committed mayhem on Filmore to get?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good, honest money,&#8221; asserted Wix. &#8220;I hate to boast about your
+present companion, but I don&#8217;t owe Filmore a cent. I merely worked up
+a business and sold my share in it. Of course, they didn&#8217;t know I was
+selling it, but they&#8217;ll find out when they go over the records, which
+are perfectly straight. If, after <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>buying the chance to go into
+business, they don&#8217;t know what to do with it, it isn&#8217;t my fault.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A traveling man who had once been in the office of The La Salle Grain
+and Stock Brokerage Company for an afternoon&#8217;s flyer, and who
+remembered the cordial ease with which Wix had taken his money, came
+over to the table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Wix; how&#8217;s tricks?&#8221; he hailed.</p>
+
+<p>Wix looked up at him blankly but courteously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Beg pardon,&#8221; he returned.</p>
+
+<p>The face of the traveling man fell.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aren&#8217;t you Mr. Wix, of Filmore?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid not,&#8221; replied Wix, smiling with great cordiality. &#8220;Sorry
+to disappoint you, old man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Really, I beg your pardon,&#8221; said the traveling man, perplexed. &#8220;It is
+the most remarkable resemblance I ever saw. I would have sworn you
+were Wix. He used to run a brokerage shop in the Grand Hotel in
+Filmore.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never was in the town,&#8221; lied Wix.</p>
+
+<p>The man turned away. Daw looked after him with an amused smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By the way, Wix, what is your name now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By George, I haven&#8217;t decided! I was too busy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>getting rid of my only
+handicap to think up a substitute. I&#8217;ll tell you in a minute,&#8221; and on
+the spur of the moment he invented a quite euphonious name, one which
+was to last him for a great many years.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wallingford,&#8221; he announced. &#8220;How does that hit you? J. Rufus
+Wallingford!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>J. RUFUS PROVES A SAD, SAD DISAPPOINTMENT TO<br />
+SOME CLEVER PEOPLE</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>hey were glad to see Blackie Daw back on Broadway&mdash;that is, in the
+way that Broadway is glad; for they of the Great White Way have no
+sentiments and no emotions, and but scant memories. About Blackie&#8217;s
+companion, however, they were professionally curious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who is this large, pink Wallingford person, and where did you get
+it?&#8221; asked Mr. Phelps, whose more familiar name was Green-Goods Harry.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Daw, standing for the moment with Mr. Phelps at the famous old
+cheese-and-crackers end of the Fifth Avenue bar, grinned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s an educated Hick,&#8221; he responded, &#8220;and I got him out of the heart
+of the hay-fever district, right after he&#8217;d turned a classy little
+trick on the easy producers of his childhood home. Sold &#8217;em a bankrupt
+bucket-shop for eight thousand, which is going <i>some</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p><p>Mr. Phelps, natty and jaunty and curly-haired, though shifty of eye,
+through long habit of trying to watch front and back doors both at
+once, looked with a shade more interest across at the imposing white
+vest of young J. Rufus where he stood at the bar with fat and somber
+Badger Billy. There was a cocksure touch to the joviality of young
+Wallingford which was particularly aggravating to an expert like Mr.
+Phelps. Young Wallingford was so big, so impressive, so sure of
+pleasing, so certain the world was his oyster, that it seemed a shame
+not to give his pride a tumble&mdash;for his own sake, of course.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Has he got the eight thousand on him, do you think?&#8221; asked the
+green-goods one, his interest rapidly increasing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not so you could notice it,&#8221; replied Daw with conviction. &#8220;He&#8217;s a
+wise prop, I tell you. He&#8217;s probably lugging about five hundred in his
+kick, just for running expenses, and has a time-lock on the rest.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We might tinker with the lock,&#8221; concluded Harry, running his fingers
+through his hair to settle the curls; &#8220;it&#8217;s worth a try, anyhow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll bounce right off,&#8221; declared Mr. Daw. &#8220;I tried to put a sweet
+one over in his home town, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>he jolted the game so quick he made
+its teeth rattle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you owe him one,&#8221; persisted Mr. Phelps, whom it pained to see
+other people have money. &#8220;Do you mean to say that any pumpkin husker
+can&#8217;t be trimmed?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Enjoy yourself,&#8221; invited Mr. Daw with a retrospective smile, &#8220;but
+count me out. I&#8217;m going to Boston next week, anyhow. I&#8217;m going to open
+a mine investment office there. It&#8217;s a nice easy money mining
+district.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For pocket mining,&#8221; agreed his friend dryly.</p>
+
+<p>Young Wallingford, in his desire for everybody to be happy, looked
+around for them at this juncture, and further conversation was out of
+the question. The quartet lounged out of the Fifth Avenue bar and
+across Broadway in that dull way peculiar to their kind. At the
+Hoffman House bar they were joined by a cadaverous gentleman known to
+the police as Short-Card Larry, whose face was as that of a corpse,
+but whose lithe, slender fingers were reputed to have brains of their
+own, and the five of them sat down for a dull half-hour. Later they
+had dull dinner together, strolled dully into four theaters, and,
+still dull, wound up in the apartments of Daw and J. Rufus.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;What do you think of them?&#8221; asked Blackie in their first aside
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They give me the pip,&#8221; announced J. Rufus frankly. &#8220;Why do they hate
+themselves so? Why do they sit in the darkest corners and bark at
+themselves? Can&#8217;t they ever drink enough to get oiled happy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not and do business with strangers on Broadway,&#8221; Daw explained.
+&#8220;Phelps has been shy about thin glassware for five years, ever since
+he let an Indiana come-on outdrink him and steal his own money back;
+Billy Banting stops after the third glass of anything, on account of
+his fat; the only time Larry Teller ever got pinched was for getting
+spifflicated and telling a reporter what police protection cost him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If I wasn&#8217;t waiting to see one of them bite himself and die of poison
+I&#8217;d cut &#8217;em out,&#8221; returned Mr. Wallingford in the utmost disgust. &#8220;Any
+one of them would slung-shot the others for the price of a cigarette.
+Don&#8217;t they ever get interested in anything?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing but easy marks,&#8221; replied Mr. Daw with a grin. &#8220;The way
+they&#8217;re treating you is a compliment. They&#8217;re letting you just be one
+of them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;One of them! Take it back, Blackie!&#8221; protested Wallingford. &#8220;Why,
+they&#8217;re a bunch of crooks!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In deep dejection young Wallingford, rejoining his guests, ordered
+three lemonades and a quart of champagne. There was a trifle more of
+animation among them now, however, since they had been left alone for
+a few moments. They told three or four very hilarious stories, in each
+of which the nub of the joke hinged on an utter disregard of every
+human decency. Then, quite casually and after a lull, Badger Billy
+smoothed down his smart vest and cleared his throat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you fellows say to a little game of stud?&#8221; he proposed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure!&#8221; agreed Wallingford with alacrity. &#8220;That&#8217;s the first live noise
+I&#8217;ve heard to-day,&#8221; and he went to the &#8217;phone at once to order up some
+cards and chips.</p>
+
+<p>With his back turned, the three lemonade drinkers exchanged pleased
+smiles. It was too easy! Mr. Daw let them smile, and reposed calmly
+upon the couch, entirely disinterested. Professional ethics forbade
+Mr. Daw to interfere with the &#8220;trimming&#8221; of the jovial Mr.
+Wallingford, and the instincts of a gentleman, with which, of course,
+they were all perfectly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>provided, prevented him from taking any part
+in that agreeable operation. To his keen amusement the game was very
+brief&mdash;scarcely more than twenty minutes.</p>
+
+<p>It was Short-Card Larry who, with a yawn, discovered suddenly how late
+it was and stopped the game. As he rose to go, young Wallingford,
+chuckling, was adding a few additional bills to the plethoric roll in
+his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What made you chop the game, Larry?&#8221; asked Green-Goods Harry in
+impatient wonder. &#8220;We&#8217;d ought to strung it along a while. What made
+you let him have that hundred and fifty so quick?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let him!&#8221; retorted Larry savagely. &#8220;He took it! Twice I gave him aces
+back to back on my deal, and he turned them down without a bet. On his
+own deal he bet his head off on a pair of deuces, with not one of us
+three able to draw out on him; and right there he cops that hundred
+and fifty himself. He&#8217;s too fresh!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said Badger Billy philosophically, &#8220;he&#8217;ll come for more.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not of mine, he won&#8217;t,&#8221; snorted the dexterous one. &#8220;I can&#8217;t do any
+business against a man that&#8217;s next. I hope he chokes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;There you go again, letting your temper get the best of you,&#8221;
+protested Mr. Phelps, himself none too pleased. &#8220;This fresh lollop has
+coin, and it ought to be ours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ought to be? It <i>is</i> ours,&#8221; growled Larry. &#8220;We&#8217;ll get it if we have
+to mace him, at noon, on Madison Square.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime J. Rufus was chuckling himself to sleep. He rose at
+eleven, breakfasted at one, and was dressing and planning to besiege
+New York upon his own account, when the telephone advised him that Mr.
+Phelps was down-stairs with a parched throat, and on the way up to get
+a drink!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fine business!&#8221; exclaimed J. Rufus with a cordiality which had
+nothing whatever to do with the puzzled expression on his brow.
+&#8220;What&#8217;ll you have? I&#8217;ll order it while you&#8217;re on your way up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing stronger than a Scotch highball,&#8221; was the reply, whereupon
+young Wallingford, as soon as the telephone was clear, ordered the
+materials therefor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fine business,&#8221; he repeated to himself musingly as he stood with his
+hand still on the receiver after he had hung it up; &#8220;also rough work.
+This thirst is too sudden.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p><p>He was still most thoughtful when Mr. Phelps knocked at the door, and
+had yet more food for contemplation when the caller began talking with
+great enthusiasm about his thirst, explaining the height and breadth
+and thickness thereof, its atomic weight, its color and the excellent
+style of its finish.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If I just had that thirst outside of me where I could get at it, I
+could make an airship of it,&#8221; he imaginatively concluded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gas or hot air?&#8221; inquired young Mr. Wallingford, entirely unmoved, as
+he poured the highballs and dosed both quite liberally with the
+Scotch, whereat Mr. Phelps almost visibly winced, though gamely
+planning to drink with every appearance of enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;s Daw?&#8221; he asked, after two sips which he tried to make seem
+like gulps.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gone out to a print-shop to locate a couple of gold mines,&#8221; announced
+Wallingford dryly, holding his own opinion as to the folly of Mr.
+Daw&#8217;s methods. They were so unsanctioned of law.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sorry for that,&#8221; said Mr. Phelps, who was nevertheless relieved to
+hear it, for Mr. Daw was rather in the way. &#8220;We&#8217;ve got a great game
+on; a Reuben right from Reubensville, with five thousand of pa&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>money in his jeans. I wanted you fellows to come and look him over.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the use?&#8221; returned Wallingford. &#8220;Come down to the lobby and
+I&#8217;ll show you a whole procession of them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, but they&#8217;re not so liberal as this boy,&#8221; protested Phelps
+laughing. &#8220;He just naturally hones and hones and hones to hand us this
+nice little bundle of kale, and we&#8217;re going to accommodate him. You
+can get in on the split-up if you want to. Daw would have first
+choice, of course, if he was here, but since he isn&#8217;t you might as
+well come in. Five thousand iron men are hardly worth bending to pick
+up, I guess.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; objected Wallingford condescendingly. &#8220;It would
+make cigarette money, anyhow, if there are not too many to tear it
+apart.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It takes just four,&#8221; Phelps informed him: &#8220;look-out, spieler,
+panel-man and engraver.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford shook his head, refusing even to speculate on the duties
+of the four named actors in the playlet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Four makes it hardly union wages,&#8221; he objected.</p>
+
+<p>Green-Goods Harry cast at him a look of quick dislike.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I know, but wait till you see the sample,&#8221; he insisted. &#8220;The fun&#8217;s
+worth more than the meat. He&#8217;s the rawest you ever saw; wants green
+goods, you know; thinks there really is green-goods, and stands ready
+to exchange his five thousand of the genuine rhino for twenty of the
+phoney stuff. Of course you know how this little joke is rimmed up. We
+count out the twenty thousand in real money and wrap it up in bales
+before both of his eyes, then put it in a little satchel of which we
+make Mr. Alfred Alfalfa a present. While we&#8217;re giving him the solemn
+talk about the po-lice Badger Billy switches in another satchel with
+the same kind of looking bales in it, but made out of tissue-paper
+with twenties top and bottom; then we all move, and Henry Whiskers
+don&#8217;t dare make a holler because he&#8217;s in on a crooked play himself;
+see?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; assented Wallingford still dryly. &#8220;I&#8217;ve been reading the
+papers ever since I was a kid. What puzzles me is how you can find
+anybody left in the world who isn&#8217;t hep.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a new sucker born every minute,&#8221; returned Mr. Phelps airily,
+whereat Wallingford, detecting that Mr. Phelps held his intelligence
+and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>education so cheaply as to offer this sage remark as original,
+inwardly fumed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come on and look him over, anyhow,&#8221; insisted Phelps, rising.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford arose reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter with your highball?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s great Scotch!&#8221; said Mr. Phelps enthusiastically, and drank about
+a tablespoonful with great avidity. &#8220;Come on; the boys are waiting,&#8221;
+and he surged toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford finished his own glass contemplatively and followed with a
+trace of annoyance.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>WALLINGFORD HELPS IN A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET<br />
+PURELY FOR ACCOMMODATION</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">I</span>nto the back room of a flashy saloon just off Broadway Mr. Phelps led
+the way, after pausing outside to post Wallingford carefully on all
+their new names, and here they found Billy Banting and Larry Teller in
+company with a stranger, one glance at whom raised Wallingford&#8217;s
+spirits quite appreciably, for he was so obviously made up.</p>
+
+<p>He was a raw-boned young fellow who wore an out-of-date derby, a
+cheap, made cravat which rode his collar, a cheap suit of loud-checked
+clothes that was entirely too tight for him, and the trousers of
+which, two inches too short, were rounded stiffly out below the knees,
+like stove-pipes, by top-boots which were wrinkled about the ankles.
+Moreover, the stranger spoke with a nasal drawl never heard off the
+stage.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford, with a wink from Phelps, was introduced <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>to Mr. Pickins
+as Mr. Mombley. Then, leaning down to Mr. Pickins with another
+prodigious wink at Wallingford, Phelps said in a stage-whisper to the
+top-booted one:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Mombley is our engraver. Used to work in the mint.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;ll swan!&#8221; drawled Mr. Pickins. &#8220;I&#8217;d reckoned to find such a
+fine gove&#8217;ment expert a older man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With a sigh Wallingford took up his expected part.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m older than I look,&#8221; said he. &#8220;Making money keeps a man young.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I reckon,&#8221; agreed Mr. Pickins, and &#8220;haw-hawed&#8221; quite broadly. &#8220;And
+did you really make this greenback?&#8221; he asked, drawing from his vest
+pocket a crinkled new ten-dollar-bill which he spread upon the table
+and examined with very eager interest indeed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is one of that last batch, Joe,&#8221; Short-Card Larry negligently
+informed Wallingford, with a meaning wink. &#8220;I just gave it to him as a
+sample.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By jingo, it&#8217;s scrumptious work!&#8221; said Mr. Pickins admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, they&#8217;ll take that for a perfectly good bill <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>anywhere,&#8221; asserted
+Wallingford. &#8220;Just spend it and see,&#8221; and he pushed the button. &#8220;Bring
+us a bottle of the best champagne you have in the house,&#8221; he directed
+the waiter, and with satisfaction he noted the startled raising of
+heads all around the table, <i>including the head of Mr. Pickins</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t like to brag on myself,&#8221; continued Wallingford, taking on
+fresh animation as he began to see humor in the situation, &#8220;but I
+think I&#8217;m the grandest little money-maker in the city, in my special
+line. I don&#8217;t go after small game very often. A ten is the smallest I
+handle. Peters,&#8221; he suddenly commanded Phelps, &#8220;show him one of those
+lovely twenties.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think I have one of the new ones,&#8221; said Phelps, moistening
+his lips, but nevertheless reaching for his wallet. &#8220;I think the only
+twenties I have are those that we put through the aging process.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford calmly took the wallet from him and as calmly leafed over
+the bills it contained.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, none of these twenties is from the new batch,&#8221; he decided,
+entering more and more into the spirit of the game, &#8220;but this
+half-century is one that we&#8217;re all proud of. Just examine that, Mr.
+Pickins,&#8221; and closing the wallet he handed it back to Phelps, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>passing
+the fifty-dollar bill to the stranger. &#8220;Billy, give me one of those
+twenties. I&#8217;m bound to show Mr. Pickins one of our best output.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Badger Billy, being notorious even among his fellows as a tight-wad,
+swallowed hard, but he produced a small roll of bills and extracted
+the newest twenty he could find. During this process it had twice
+crossed Billy&#8217;s mind to revolt; but, after all, Wallingford was
+evincing an interest in the game that might be worth while.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s it,&#8221; approved Wallingford, running it through his fingers and
+passing it over to Pickins. He got up from his place and took the
+vacant chair by that gentleman. &#8220;I just want you to look at the nifty
+imitation of engine work in this scroll border,&#8221; he insisted with vast
+enthusiasm, while Mr. Pickins cast a despairing glance, half-puzzled
+and half-bored, at the others of the company, themselves awed into
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>He was still explaining the excellent work in the more intricate
+portions of the two designs when the waiter appeared with the wine,
+and Wallingford only interrupted himself long enough nonchalantly to
+toss the ten-dollar bill on the tray after the glasses were filled.
+Then, with vast fervor, he returned <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>to the counterfeiting business,
+with the specimens before him as an inspiring text.</p>
+
+<p>The waiter brought back two dollars in silver.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just keep the change,&#8221; said Wallingford grandly, and then, as the
+waiter was about to withdraw, he quickly handed up the fifty and the
+twenty-dollar bills to him. &#8220;Just take this twenty, George,&#8221; said he
+to the waiter, &#8220;and run down to the cigar-store on the corner and buy
+some of those dollar cigars. You might as well get us about three
+apiece. Then take this fifty and get us a box for <i>The Prince of
+Pikers</i> to-night. Hustle right on, now,&#8221; and he gave the waiter a
+gentle but insistent shove on the arm that had all the effect of
+bustling him out of the room. &#8220;We&#8217;ll show Mr. Pickins a good time,&#8221; he
+exultantly declared. &#8220;We&#8217;ll show him how easy it is to live on soft
+money like this.&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/i082.jpg" class="ispace" width="500" height="361" alt="&#8220;Just keep the change,&#8221; said Wallingford grandly" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;Just keep the change,&#8221; said Wallingford grandly</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Wallingford had held the floor for fifteen solid minutes. Now he
+paused for some one else to offer a remark, his eager eye glowing with
+the sense of a duty not only well, but brilliantly, performed, as it
+roved from one to the other in search of approval. But feeble
+encouragement was in any other eye. Four men could have throttled him,
+singly and in company. Wallingford was too enthusiastic an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>actor. He was taking the part entirely too well, and a vague doubt
+began to cross the minds of the other gentlemen in the party as to
+whether he would do or not. It was Short-Card Larry who first
+recovered his poise and broke the dismal silence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Show him one or two of those new hundreds, Mombley,&#8221; he invited
+Wallingford with almost a snarl.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford merely smiled in a superior way.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know I never carry any but the genuine,&#8221; he said in mild
+reproach. &#8220;It wouldn&#8217;t do, you know. Anyhow, are we sure that Mr.
+Pickins wants to invest?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pickins drew a long breath and once more plunged into the
+character which he had almost doffed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Invest? Well, I reckon!&#8221; he nasally drawled. &#8220;If I can get twenty
+thousand dollars as good money as that for five, I&#8217;d be a blame fool
+not to take it. And I got the five thousand, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Things were coming back to a normal basis now, and the others cheered
+up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look here,&#8221; Mr. Pickins went on, and, reaching down, he drew off with
+much tugging one of the high boots, in the top of which had reposed a
+package <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>of greenbacks: ten crisp, nice-looking five-hundred-dollar
+bills.</p>
+
+<p>For just a moment Wallingford eyed that money speculatively, then he
+picked up one of the bills and slid it through his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s good money, I suppose,&#8221; he observed. &#8220;You can hardly tell the
+good from the bad these days, except by offering to spend it. We might
+break one of these&mdash;say for an automobile ride.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, you don&#8217;t,&#8221; hurriedly interposed Mr. Pickins, losing his nasal
+drawl for the moment and reaching for the bill, which he put back in
+the package, snapping a weak rubber band around it. &#8220;I reckon I don&#8217;t
+let go of one of these bills till I see something in exchange. I&mdash;I
+ain&#8217;t no greenhorn!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His nasal drawl had come back, and now seemed to be the cue for all
+the others to affect laughter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To be sure he&#8217;s not,&#8221; said Mr. Phelps, reaching over to slap him on
+the back in all the jovial heartiness with which a greenhorn is
+supposed to be encouraged. &#8220;You&#8217;re wise, all right, Pickins. We
+wouldn&#8217;t do business with you if you weren&#8217;t. You see, we&#8217;re putting
+ourselves in danger of the penitentiary and we have to be careful.
+More than that, wise people come back; and, with a dozen or so like
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>Mr. Pickins shoving the queer for us, we put out about all we can
+make. Nobody in the business, Mr. Pickins, gets as high a price for
+green-goods as we do, and nobody in the business keeps all their
+customers as we do. That&#8217;s because our output is so good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This, which was one of the rehearsed speeches, went off very well, and
+they began to feel comfortable again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s me, by Jinks!&#8221; announced Pickins, slapping his leg. &#8220;I&#8217;ll be
+one of your steady customers, all right. When&#8217;ll I get this first
+twenty thousand?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Right away,&#8221; said Mr. Phelps, rising. &#8220;Just wait a moment till I talk
+it over with the engraver and see if he has the supply ready.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The supply&#8217;s all right,&#8221; declared Wallingford. &#8220;These boys will &#8217;tend
+to the business with you, Mr. Pickins. I&#8217;m very glad to have met you.
+I&#8217;ll probably see you to-night at the show. I have to go back and look
+after a little more engraving just now.&#8221; And, shaking hands cordially
+with Mr. Pickins, he rose to go.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait a minute, Mombley,&#8221; said Phelps amidst a general scowl, and he
+walked outside with Wallingford. &#8220;Fine work, old man,&#8221; he
+complimented, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>keeping his suavity with no little effort. &#8220;We can go
+right in and pick our bunch of posies any minute.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go right ahead!&#8221; said Wallingford heartily. &#8220;I&#8217;m glad to have helped
+you out a little.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Phelps looked at him in sour speculation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course you&#8217;re in on it,&#8221; he observed with a great air of making a
+merely perfunctory remark.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Me?&#8221; inquired Wallingford in surprise. &#8220;Not on your life. I only
+played engraver for accommodation. I thought I did a grand little
+piece of work, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But we can&#8217;t go through without you,&#8221; insisted Mr. Phelps
+desperately, ignoring the other&#8217;s maddening complacency and sticking
+to the main point. &#8220;It takes twenty thousand and we only have five
+thousand apiece. We&#8217;re looking to you for the other five.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford looked him squarely in the eyes, with an entire change of
+manner, and chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There are four reasons, Phelps, why I won&#8217;t,&#8221; he kindly explained.
+&#8220;The first is, I never do anything in partnership; second, I never
+pike; third, I won&#8217;t take a fall out of any game that has the
+brown-and-white-striped clothes at the end of it; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>fourth, Billy might
+not get the satchels switched right; <i>extra, I won&#8217;t fool with any
+farmer that strikes a match on the sole of his boot</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The fifth and extra reason was so unexpected and was laid before Mr.
+Phelps with such meaning emphasis that that gentleman could only drop
+his jaw and gape in reply. Wallingford laid both hands on his
+shoulders and chuckled in his face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a fiercely unimaginative bunch,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Let&#8217;s don&#8217;t try to
+do any more business together. Just come up to my room to-night and
+have a friendly game of stud poker.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At last Green-Goods Harry found his tongue.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You go to hell!&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>Back in their common sitting-room, Wallingford found Daw studying some
+gaudy samples of stock certificates. &#8220;Blackie, did you tell this gang
+of yours that they didn&#8217;t drink enough to suit me?&#8221; Wallingford
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Blackie grinned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They wanted to know why you wouldn&#8217;t warm up,&#8221; he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see the pretty, pretty lights at last,&#8221; Wallingford chuckled. &#8220;I
+was sure there was something doing when Curly Harry came up here
+claiming a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>thirst, and went so far as to drink champagne on top of a
+highball.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s taking stomach and liver dope right now,&#8221; Blackie guessed. &#8220;You
+see, these Broadway boys are handicapped when they run across a man
+who still has a lining. They lost theirs years ago.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They lost everything years ago. I&#8217;m disappointed in them, Blackie. I
+had supposed that these people of the metropolis had Herman the Great
+looking like a Bowery waiter when it came to smooth work; but they&#8217;ve
+got nothing but thumbs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You do them deep wrong, J. Rufus Wallingford Wix,&#8221; admonished
+Blackie. &#8220;I&#8217;ve trailed with this crowd four or five years. They&#8217;re
+always to be found right here and they always have coin&mdash;whether they
+spend it or not.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They get it gold-bricking New Yorkers, then,&#8221; declared Wallingford
+contemptuously. &#8220;They couldn&#8217;t cold deck anybody on the rural free
+delivery routes. They wear the lemon sign on their faces, and when one
+of their kind comes west of the big hills we padlock all our money in
+our pockets and lock ourselves in jail till they get out of town.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What have they been doing to you?&#8221; asked Blackie. &#8220;You&#8217;ve got a
+regular Matteawan grouch.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;They had the nerve to try to ring me in for the fall guy on a
+green-goods play, baited up with a stage farmer from One Hundred and
+Sixtieth Street,&#8221; asserted Wallingford. &#8220;Don&#8217;t they ever spring a new
+one here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Blackie Daw only laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid they don&#8217;t,&#8221; he confessed. &#8220;They take the old ones that
+have got the money for years, and work in new props and scenery on
+them, just like they do in the theaters; and that goes for Broadway.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It don&#8217;t go for me,&#8221; declared Wallingford. &#8220;If they come after mine
+again I&#8217;ll get real peevish and take their flash rolls away from
+them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go to it,&#8221; invited Blackie. &#8220;They need a trimming.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think I&#8217;ll hand it to them,&#8221; said Wallingford savagely, and started
+to walk out.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where are you going?&#8221; asked the other.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Wallingford, &#8220;but I am going to scare up some
+excitement in the only way possible for a stranger, and that is go out
+and hunt for it by myself. No New Yorker knows where to go.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the bar Wallingford found a convivial gentleman <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>from Georgia,
+lonesome like himself, with whom he became firm friends in an hour,
+and it was after midnight when, their friendship still further fixed
+by plenty of liquid cement, he left the Georgian at one of the broad,
+bright entrances in charge of a door-man. It being but a few blocks to
+his own hotel, he walked, carrying with complacent satisfaction a
+burden of assorted beverages that would have staggered most men.</p>
+
+<p>It was while he was pausing upon his own corner for a moment to
+consider the past evening in smiling retrospection, that a big-boned
+policeman tapped him on the shoulder. He was startled for a moment,
+but a hearty voice reassured him with:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, hello, Wix, my boy! When did you come to town?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A smile broke over Wallingford&#8217;s face as he shook hands with the
+bluecoat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Harvey,&#8221; he returned. &#8220;I never would have looked for you in
+this make-up. It&#8217;s a funny job for the ex-secretary of the Filmore
+Coal Company.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Forget it,&#8221; returned Harvey complacently. &#8220;There&#8217;s three squares a
+day in this and pickings. Where are you stopping?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p><p>Wallingford told him, and then looked at him speculatively.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come up and see me when you go off watch,&#8221; he invited. &#8220;But don&#8217;t ask
+for me under the name of Wix. It&#8217;s Wallingford now, J. Rufus
+Wallingford.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221; said Harvey. &#8220;What did you do at home?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a thing,&#8221; protested Wallingford. &#8220;I can go right back to Filmore
+and play hop-scotch around the county jail if I want to. I just didn&#8217;t
+like the name, that&#8217;s all. But I want to talk with you, Harvey. I
+think I can throw about a hundred or so in your way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not me,&#8221; returned Harvey with a grin. &#8220;That&#8217;s the price of a murder
+in this town.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come up, and I&#8217;ll coax you,&#8221; laughed Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>He walked away quite thoughtfully. Harvey Willis, who had left Filmore
+on account of his fine sense of honor&mdash;he had embezzled to pay a poker
+debt&mdash;seemed suddenly to fit an empty and an aching void.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>A THIRD ARM TO THE OLD-FASHIONED DOUBLE CROSS</h3>
+
+<p style="float: left; font-size: 100%; line-height: 80%; margin-top: 0;">&#8220;</p><p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he fresh Hick!&#8221; observed Mr. Pickins savagely. &#8220;I&#8217;d like to hand him
+a bunch of knuckles.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pickins was not now in character, but was clad in quite ordinary
+good clothes; his prominent cheek-bones, however, had become two white
+spots in the midst of an angrily red countenance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know as I blame him so much,&#8221; said Phelps. &#8220;The trouble is we
+sized him for about the intelligence of a louse. Anybody who would
+stand for your Hoop-pole County line of talk wouldn&#8217;t need such a
+careful frame-up to make him lay down his money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s something to that,&#8221; agreed Short-Card Larry. &#8220;I always did
+say your work was too strong, Pick.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There ain&#8217;t another man in the crowd can play as good a Rube,&#8221;
+protested Mr. Pickins, touched <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>deeply upon the matter of his art. &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know how many thousands we&#8217;ve cleaned up on that outfit of
+mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye-e-es, but this Wallingford person called the turn,&#8221; insisted
+Phelps. &#8220;The only times we ever made it stick was on the kind of
+farmers that work in eleven-story office buildings. You can fool a man
+with a stuffed dog, but you can&#8217;t fool a dog with it; and you couldn&#8217;t
+fool Yap Wallingford with a counterfeit yap.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; announced Mr. Pickins, with emphatic finality, &#8220;you may have
+my part of him. I&#8217;m willing to let him go right back to Oskaloosa, or
+Oshkosh, or wherever it is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not me,&#8221; declared Phelps. &#8220;I want to get him just on general
+principles. He&#8217;s handed me too much flossy talk. You know the last
+thing he had the nerve to say? He invited us up to play stud poker
+with him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you?&#8221; asked Pickins.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ask Larry,&#8221; said Phelps with a laugh, whereat Larry merely swore.</p>
+
+<p>Badger Billy, who had been silently listening with his eyes half
+closed, was possessed of a sudden inventive gift.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes, why don&#8217;t you?&#8221; he repeated. &#8220;If I read this village cut-up
+right, and I think I do, he&#8217;ll take a sporting chance. Get him over to
+the Forty-second Street dump on a proposition to play two-handed stud
+with Harry there, then pull off a phoney pinch for gambling.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No chance,&#8221; returned Phelps. &#8220;He&#8217;d be on to that game; it&#8217;s a dead
+one, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not if you work it this way,&#8221; insisted Billy, in whom the creative
+spirit was still strong. &#8220;Tell him that we&#8217;re all sore at Harry, here;
+that Harry threw the gang last night and got me put away. I&#8217;ll have
+McDermott take me down and lock me up on suspicion for a couple of
+hours, so you can bring him down and show me to him. Tell him you&#8217;ve
+found a way to get square. Harry&#8217;s supposed to have a grouch about
+that stud poker taunt and wants to play Wallingford two-handed, five
+thousand a side. Tell him to go into this game, and that just when
+they have the money and the cards on the table, you&#8217;ll pull off a
+phoney pinch and have your fake officer take the money and cards for
+evidence, then you&#8217;ll split up with him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Billy paused and looked around with a triumphant eye. It was a long,
+long speech for the Badger, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>a vivid bit of creative work of which
+he felt justly proud.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fine!&#8221; observed Larry in deep sarcasm. &#8220;Then I suppose we give him
+the blackjack and take it all away from him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, you mutt,&#8221; returned Billy, having waited for this objection so as
+to bring out the clever part of his scheme as a climax. &#8220;Just as we
+have Dan pull off the pinch, in jumps Sprig Foles and pinches Dan for
+impersonating an officer. Then Sprig cops the money and the cards for
+evidence, while we all make a get-away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A long and thoughtful silence followed the exposition of this great
+scheme of Billy&#8217;s. It was Phelps who spoke first.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s one thing about it,&#8221; he admitted: &#8220;it&#8217;s a new one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Grandest little double cross that was ever pulled over,&#8221; announced
+Billy in the pride of authorship.</p>
+
+<p>It was a matter of satisfaction, to say nothing of surprise, to
+Short-Card Larry to note the readiness, even the alacrity, with which
+young Wallingford fell into the trap. Would he accept the traitorous
+Mr. Phelps&#8217; challenge if guaranteed that he would win? He would! There
+was nothing young Wallingford <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>detested so much as a traitor.
+Moreover, he had a grouch at Mr. Phelps himself.</p>
+
+<p>Short-Card Larry had expected to argue more than this, and, having
+argument still lying heavily upon his lungs, must rid himself of it.
+It must be distinctly understood that the crowd wanted nothing
+whatever out of this. They merely wished to see the foresworn Mr.
+Phelps lose all his money, so that he could not hire a lawyer to
+defend him, and when he was thus resourceless they intended to have
+him arrested on an old charge and &#8220;sent over.&#8221; They were very severe
+and heartless about Mr. Phelps, but they did not want his money. They
+would not touch it! Wallingford could have it all with the exception
+of the two hundred and fifty dollars he would have to pay to the
+experienced plain-clothes-man impersonator whom Larry, having a wide
+acquaintance, would secure.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wallingford understood perfectly. He appreciated thoroughly the
+motives that actuated Mr. Larry Teller and his friends, and those
+motives did them credit. He counted himself, moreover, highly
+fortunate in being on hand to take advantage of the situation. Still
+moreover, after the trick was turned he would stand a fine dinner for
+the entire <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>crowd, including Mr. Pickins, to whom Mr. Teller would
+kindly convey his, Mr. Wallingford&#8217;s, respects.</p>
+
+<p>Accepting this commission with some inward resentment but outward
+pleasure, Mr. Teller suggested that the game be played off that very
+afternoon. Mr. Wallingford was very sorry. That afternoon and evening
+he had business of grave importance. To-morrow evening, however, say
+at about nine o&#8217;clock, he would be on hand with the five thousand, in
+bills of convenient denomination. Mr. Teller might call for him at the
+hotel and escort him to the room, although, from having had the
+location previously pointed out to him, Mr. Wallingford was quite sure
+he could find Mr. Teller&#8217;s apartment, where the contest was to take
+place. Left alone, Mr. Wallingford, in the exuberance of his youth,
+lay back in his big chair and spent five solid minutes in chuckling
+self-congratulation, to the great mystification of the incoming Mr.
+Daw, whom J. Rufus would not quite trust with his reason for mirth.
+Feeling the need of really human companionship at this juncture, young
+Wallingford called up his convivial friend from Georgia and they went
+out to spend another busy and pleasant afternoon and evening, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>amid a
+rapidly widening circle of friends whom these two enterprising and
+jovial gentlemen had already managed to attach to them. With an eye to
+business, however, Wallingford carefully timed their wanderings so
+that he should return, alone, on foot, to his own hotel a trifle after
+midnight.</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. Teller and Mr. Wallingford, on the following evening at a few
+minutes before nine, turned into the house on Forty-second Street,
+they observed a sturdy figure helping a very much inebriated man up
+the stone steps just before them, but as the sturdy figure inserted a
+latch-key in the door and opened it with one hand while supporting his
+companion with the other arm, the incident was not one to excite
+comment. Just inside the door the inebriated man tried to raise a
+disturbance, which was promptly squelched by the sturdy gentleman, who
+held his charge firmly in a bearlike grip while Mr. Teller and Mr.
+Wallingford passed around them at the foot of the stairs, casting
+smiling glances down at the face of the perpetually-worried landlady,
+who had come to the parlor door to wonder what she ought to do about
+it.</p>
+
+<p>In the second floor back room Mr. Phelps and Mr. Badger already
+awaited them. Mr. Badger&#8217;s greeting <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>to Larry was the ordinary
+greeting of one man who had seen the other within the hour; his
+greeting to Mr. Wallingford was most cordial and accompanied by the
+merest shade of a wink. Mr. Phelps, on the other hand, was most grim.
+While not denying the semblance of courtesy one gentleman should
+bestow upon another, he nevertheless gave Mr. Wallingford distinctly
+to understand by his bearing that he was out for Mr. Wallingford&#8217;s
+financial blood, and after the coldest of greetings he asked gruffly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you bring cards?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One dollar&#8217;s worth,&#8221; said Wallingford, tossing four packs upon the
+table. &#8220;Ordinary drug-store cards, bought at the corner.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see them bought, Larry?&#8221; inquired Phelps.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re all right, Phelps,&#8221; Mr. Teller assured him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good,&#8221; said Mr. Phelps. &#8220;Then we might just as well get to work right
+away,&#8221; and from his pocket he drew a fat wallet out of which he
+counted five thousand dollars, mostly in bills of large denomination.</p>
+
+<p>In the chair at the opposite side of the little table Wallingford sat
+down with equal grimness, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>produced an equal amount of money in
+similar denominations.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t suppose we need chips,&#8221; said Phelps. &#8220;The game may not last
+over a couple of deals. Make it table stakes, loser of each hand to
+deal the next one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They opened a pack of cards and cut for the deal, which fell to
+Wallingford, and they began with a mutual five-dollar ante. Upon the
+turn card of the first deal each placed another five. Upon the third
+card, Phelps, being high, shoved forward a five-dollar bill, which
+Wallingford promptly raised with fifty. Scarcely glancing at his
+hole-card, Phelps let him take the pot, and it became Phelps&#8217; deal.</p>
+
+<p>It was a peculiar game, in that Phelps kept the deal from then on,
+betting mildly until Wallingford raised, in which case Wallingford was
+allowed to take down the money. By this means Wallingford steadily
+won, but in such small amounts that Mr. Phelps could have kept playing
+for hours on his five thousand dollars in spite of the annoyance of
+maudlin quarreling from the next room. It was not necessary to enter
+such a long test of endurance to gain mere time, however, for in less
+than a half-hour the door suddenly burst open, its latch-bar losing
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>its screws with suspicious ease, and a gaunt but muscular-looking
+individual with a down-drooping mustache strode in upon them,
+displaying a large shining badge pinned on his vest underneath his
+coat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Every man keep his seat!&#8221; commanded this apparition. &#8220;The place is
+pinched as a gambling joint.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Phelps made a grab for the money on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Drop that!&#8221; said the new-comer, making a motion toward his hip
+pocket, and Mr. Phelps subsided in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>The others had posed themselves most dramatically, and now they sat in
+motionless but trembling obedience to the law, while the man with the
+tin badge produced from his pocket a little black bag into which he
+stuffed the cards and all the money on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a frame-up!&#8221; shouted Mr. Phelps.</p>
+
+<p>Loud voices and the overturning of chairs from the room just ahead
+interrupted them at this moment, and not only Mr. Badger and Mr.
+Teller and Mr. Phelps looked annoyed, but the man with the shining
+badge glanced apprehensively in that direction, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>especially as, added
+to the sudden uproar, there was the unmistakable clang of a
+patrol-wagon in the street.</p>
+
+<p>Simultaneously with this there bounded into the room a large gentleman
+with a red face and a husky voice, who whipped a revolver from his
+pocket the minute he passed the threshold and leveled it at the man
+with the badge, while all the others sprang from their chairs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hands up!&#8221; said he, in a hurried but businesslike manner, himself
+apparently annoyed with and apprehensive of the adjoining disturbance
+and the clanging in the street. &#8220;This is a sure-enough pinch, but it
+ain&#8217;t for gambling, you can bet your sweet life! You&#8217;re all pulled for
+a bunch of cheap sure-thing experts, but this guy has got the
+lock-step comin&#8217; to him for impersonating an officer. You&#8217;ve played
+that gag too long, Dan Blazer. Give me that evidence!&#8221; and he snatched
+the black bag from the hand of the man with the badge.</p>
+
+<p>Short-Card Larry, standing near what was apparently a closet door, now
+took his cue and threw it open, and, grabbing Wallingford by the arm,
+suddenly pulled him forward. &#8220;This is the real thing,&#8221; he said in a
+hoarse whisper. &#8220;We&#8217;ve got to make <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>a get-away or go up. They&#8217;re
+fierce on us here if the pinch once comes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, boys,&#8221; broke in a third new voice, and then the real shock
+came. The third new voice was not in the play at all, and the
+consternation it wrought was more than ludicrous.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford, drawing back for a moment, was nearly knocked off his
+feet by fat Badger Billy&#8217;s dashing past him through that door to the
+back stairway, closely followed by Mr. Phelps, and Mr. Phelps was
+trailed almost as closely by the gaunt man of the badge. Glancing
+toward the door, Mr. Wallingford smiled beatifically. The cause of all
+this sudden exodus was huge Harvey Willis, in his blue suit and brass
+buttons and helmet, with a club in his hand, who, making one dive for
+the husky red-faced man as he, too, was bent on disappearing, whanged
+him against the wall with a blow upon the head from his billy; and as
+the red-faced man fell over, Harvey grabbed the black bag. The crash
+of a breaking water-pitcher from the adjoining room, the shrill voice
+of a protesting and frightened landlady as she came tearing up the
+stairs, and the clamor of one of those lightning-collected mobs in
+front of the house around the patrol-wagon, created a diversion <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>in
+the midst of which Harvey Willis started out into the hall, a
+circumstance which gave the dazed red-faced man an opportunity to
+stagger down the back stairway and out through the alley after his
+companions, whom Wallingford had already followed. They were not
+waiting for him, by any means, but this time were genuinely interested
+in getting away from the law, each man darkly suspicious of all the
+others, and Wallingford, alone, serene in mind.</p>
+
+<p>In the hall, Willis, with a grin, thrust the black bag into his big
+pocket, and turned his attention to the terrified landlady and his
+brother officer of the wagon, who was just then mounting the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Case of plain coke jag,&#8221; he explained, and burst into the noisy room,
+from which the two presently emerged with the shrieking and inebriated
+man who had been brought up-stairs but a short while before.</p>
+
+<p>In Wallingford&#8217;s room that night, Blackie Daw was just starting for
+Boston when Harvey Willis, now off duty, came up with the little black
+bag, which he dropped upon the table, sitting down in one of the big
+chairs and laughing hugely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Daw, shake hands with Mr. Willis, a friend <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>of mine from
+Filmore,&#8221; said Wallingford. &#8220;Order a drink, Daw.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, he untied the bag, and, taking its lower corners, sifted
+the mixture of cards and greenbacks upon the table. Daw, in the act of
+shaking hands, stopped with gaping jaws.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What in Moses is that?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Merely a little contribution from your Broadway friends,&#8221; Wallingford
+explained with a chuckle. &#8220;Harvey, what do I owe out of this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said Harvey, sitting down again and naming over the cast of
+characters on his fingers, &#8220;there&#8217;s seven dollars for the room, and
+the tenner I gave Sawyer to go down on Park Row and hunt up a coke
+jag. Sawyer gets fifty. We ought to slip a twenty to the wagon-man.
+Sawyer will have to pay about a ten-case note for broken furniture,
+and I suppose you&#8217;ll want to pay this poor coke dip&#8217;s fine. That&#8217;s
+all, except me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ninety-seven dollars, besides the fine,&#8221; said Wallingford, counting
+it up. &#8220;Suppose we say a hundred and fifty to cover all expenses, and
+about three hundred and fifty for you. How would that do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Fine!&#8221; agreed Harvey. &#8220;Stay right here and keep me busy at the
+price.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not me,&#8221; said Wallingford warmly. &#8220;I only did this because I was
+peevish. I don&#8217;t like this kind of money. It may not be honest money.
+I don&#8217;t know how Phelps and Banting and Teller got this money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Blackie Daw came solemnly over and shook hands with him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stay amongst our midst, J. Rufus,&#8221; he pleaded. &#8220;We need an infusion
+of live ones on Broadway. Our best workers have grown jaded and
+effete, and our reputation is suffering. Stay, oh, stay!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; refused J. Rufus positively. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want to have anything more
+to do with crooks!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3>IN WHICH J. RUFUS HEARS OF SOME EGYPTIANS<br />
+WORTH SPOILING</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">I</span>t was in a spirit of considerable loneliness that Wallingford came
+back from seeing Blackie Daw to the midnight train, for he had grown
+to like Blackie very well indeed. Moreover, his friend from Georgia
+was gone, and quite disconsolate, for him, he stood in front of the
+hotel wondering about his next move. Fate sent him a cab, from which
+popped a miniature edition of the man from Georgia. The new-comer, who
+had not waited for the cab door to be opened for him, immediately
+offered to bet his driver the price of the fare that the horse would
+eat bananas. He was a small, clean, elderly gentleman, of
+silvery-white hair and mustache, who must have been near sixty, but
+who possessed, temporarily at least, the youth and spirits of thirty;
+and he was one of that sort of looking men to whom one instinctively
+gives a title.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t take a chance, Governor,&#8221; said the driver, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>grinning. &#8220;I might
+as well go jump off the dock as go back to the stand without them four
+dollars. I&#8217;m in bad, anyhow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll bet you the tip, then,&#8221; offered the very-much-alive elderly
+gentleman, flourishing a five-dollar bill.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; agreed the driver, eying the money. &#8220;Nothing or two
+dollars.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, you don&#8217;t! Not with Silas Fox, you don&#8217;t!&#8221; promptly disputed that
+gentleman. &#8220;First comes out of the dollar change two bits for bananas,
+and then the bet is nothing or a dollar and a half that your horse&#8217;ll
+eat &#8217;em. Why, any horse&#8217;ll eat bananas,&#8221; he added, turning suddenly to
+Wallingford. With the habit of shrewdness he paused for a thorough
+inspection of J. Rufus, whose bigness and good grooming and jovial
+pinkness of countenance were so satisfactory that Mr. Fox promptly
+made up his mind the young man could safely be counted as one of the
+pleasures of existence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll bet <i>you</i> this horse&#8217;ll eat bananas,&#8221; he offered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not acquainted with the horse,&#8221; objected Wallingford, with no
+more than reasonable caution. &#8220;I don&#8217;t even know its name. What do you
+want to bet?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anything from a drink to a hundred dollars.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p><p>J. Rufus threw back his head and chuckled in a most infectious manner,
+his broad shoulders shaking and his big chest heaving.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll take you for the drink,&#8221; he agreed.</p>
+
+<p>Two strapping big fellows in regulation khaki came striding past the
+hotel, and Mr. Fox immediately hailed them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here, you boys,&#8221; he commanded, with a friendly assurance born of the
+feeling that to-night all men were brothers; &#8220;you fellows walk across
+the street there and get me a quarter&#8217;s worth of real ripe bananas.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The soldiers stopped, perplexed, but only for an instant. The driver
+of the cab was grinning, the door-man of the hotel was grinning, the
+prosperous young man by the curb was grinning, and the well-dined and
+wined elderly gentleman quite evidently expected nothing in this world
+but friendly complaisance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right, Senator,&#8221; acquiesced the boys in khaki, themselves
+catching the grinning contagion; and quite cheerfully they accepted a
+quarter, wheeled abreast, marched over to the fruit stand, bought the
+ripest bananas on sale, wheeled, and marched back.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>Selecting the choicest one with great gravity and care, Mr. Silas Fox
+peeled it and prepared for the great test. The driver leaned forward
+interestedly; the two in khaki gathered close behind; the large young
+man chuckled as he watched; the horse poked forward his nose gingerly,
+then sniffed&mdash;then turned slowly away!</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fox was shocked. He caught that horse gently by the opposite jaw,
+and drew the head toward him. This time the horse did not even sniff.
+It shook its head, and, being further urged, jerked away so decidedly
+that it drew its tormentor off the curb, and he would have fallen had
+not Wallingford caught him by the arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I win,&#8221; declared the driver with relief, gathering up his lines.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not yet,&#8221; denied Mr. Fox, and stepping forward he put his arm around
+the horse&#8217;s neck and tried to force the banana into its mouth.</p>
+
+<p>This time the horse was so vigorous in its objection that the man came
+near being trampled underfoot, and it was only on the unanimous vote
+of the big man and the two in khaki that he profanely gave up the
+attempt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not that I mind losing the bet,&#8221; announced Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>Fox in apology, &#8220;but
+I&#8217;m disappointed in the be damned horse. That horse loves bananas and
+I know it, but he&#8217;s just stubborn. Here&#8217;s your money,&#8221; and he gave the
+driver his five-fifty; &#8220;and here&#8217;s the rest of the bananas. When you
+get back to the barn you try that horse and see if he won&#8217;t eat &#8217;em,
+after he&#8217;s cooled down and in his stall.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; laughed the driver, and started away.</p>
+
+<p>As he turned the corner he was peeling one of the bananas. The loser
+looked after the horse reluctantly, and sighed in finality.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come on, young man, let&#8217;s go get that drink,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Delighted to have found company of happy spirit, Wallingford promptly
+turned with the colonel into the hotel bar.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can you beat it?&#8221; asked one big soldier of the other as both looked
+after the departing couple in pleased wonder.</p>
+
+<p>At about the same second the new combination was falling eagerly and
+vigorously into conversation upon twelve topics at once.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t do anything without you have a pull,&#8221; was Silas Fox&#8217;s
+fallacious theory of life, as summed up in the intimate friendship of
+the second bottle. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>&#8220;That&#8217;s why I left New Jersey. I had a National
+Building and Loan Association organized down there that would have
+been a public benefactor and a private joy; in business less than six
+months, and already nine hundred honest working-men paying in their
+dollar and a quarter a week; eleven hundred and fifty a week for us to
+handle, and the amount growing every month.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a pretty good start,&#8221; commented J. Rufus, considering the
+matter carefully as he eyed the stream of ascending bubbles in his
+hollow-stemmed glass. &#8220;No matter what business you&#8217;re in, if you have
+a package of clean, new, fresh dollars every week to handle, some of
+it is bound to settle to the bottom; but there mustn&#8217;t be too many to
+swallow the settlings.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Six of us on the inside,&#8221; mused the other. &#8220;Doc Turner, who sells
+real estate only to people who can&#8217;t pay for it; Ebenezer Squinch, a
+lawyer that makes a specialty of widows and orphans and damage claims;
+Tom Fester, who runs the nicest little chattel-mortgage company that
+ever collected a life income from a five-dollar bill; Andy Grout, who
+has been conducting a prosperous instalment business for ten years on
+the same old stock of furniture; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>and Jim Christmas, who came in from
+the farm ten years ago to become a barber, shaving nothing but notes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Young Wallingford sat lost in admiration.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a lovely bunch of citizens to train a growing young dollar; to
+teach it to jump through hoops and lay down and roll over,&#8221; he
+declared. &#8220;And I suppose you were in a similar line, Judge?&#8221; he
+ventured.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing like it,&#8221; denied the judge emphatically. &#8220;I was in a decent,
+respectable loan business. Collateral loans were my specialty.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; said J. Rufus, chuckling. &#8220;All mankind were not your
+brothers, exactly, but your brothers&#8217; children.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Making me the universal uncle, yes,&#8221; admitted Mr. Fox, then he
+suddenly puffed up with pride in his achievements. &#8220;And I do say,&#8221; he
+boasted, &#8220;that I could give any Jew cards and spades at the game and
+still beat him out on points. I reckon I invented big casino, little
+casino and the four aces in the pawn brokerage business. Let alone my
+gage of the least a man would take, I had it fixed so that they could
+slip into my place by the front door, from the drug-store on one side,
+from the junk-yard on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>the other, from the saloon across the alley in
+the rear, and down-stairs, from the hall leading to Doc Turner&#8217;s
+office.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lost in twinkling-eyed admiration of his own cleverness he lapsed into
+silence, but J. Rufus, eager for information, aroused him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But why did you blow the easy little new company?&#8221; he wanted to know.
+&#8220;I could understand it if you had been running a local building-loan
+company, for in that the only salaried officer is the secretary, who
+gets fifty cents a year, and the happy home-builders pile up double
+compound interest for the wise members who rent; but with a national
+company it&#8217;s different. A national building-loan company&#8217;s business is
+to collect money to juggle with, for the exclusive benefit of the
+officers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a bright young man,&#8221; said Mr. Fox admiringly. &#8220;But the
+business was such a cinch it began to get crowded, and so the
+lawmakers, who were mostly stock-holders in the three biggest
+companies, had a spasm of virtue, and passed such stringent laws for
+the protection of poor investors that no new company could do any
+business. We tried to buy a pull but it was no use; there wasn&#8217;t pull
+enough to go round; so I&#8217;m going to retire and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>enjoy myself. This
+country&#8217;s getting too corrupt to do business in,&#8221; and Mr. Fox relapsed
+into sorrowful silence over the degeneracy of the times.</p>
+
+<p>When his sorrow had become grief&mdash;midway of another bottle&mdash;a house
+detective prevailed upon him to go to bed, leaving young Wallingford
+to loneliness and to thought&mdash;also to settle the bill. This, however,
+he did quite willingly. The evening had been worth much in an
+educational way, and, moreover, it had suggested vast, immediate
+possibilities. These possibilities might have remained vague and
+formless&mdash;mere food for idle musing&mdash;had it not been for one important
+circumstance: while the waiter was making change he picked some folded
+papers from the floor and laid them at Wallingford&#8217;s hand. Opened,
+this packet of loose leaves proved to be a list of several hundred
+names and addresses. There could be no riddle whatever about this
+document; it was quite obviously a membership roster of the defunct
+building-loan association.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The judge ought to have a duplicate of this list; a single copy&#8217;s so
+easy to lose,&#8221; mused Wallingford with a grin; so, out of the goodness
+of his heart, he sat up in his room until very late indeed, copying
+those pages with great care. When he sent the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>original to Mr. Fox&#8217;s
+room in the morning, however, he very carelessly omitted to send the
+duplicate, and, indeed, omitted to think of remedying the omission
+until after Mr. Fox had left the hotel for good.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, well, a list of that sort was a handy thing for anybody to have
+around. The names and addresses of nine hundred people naive enough to
+pay a dollar and a quarter a week to a concern of whose standing they
+knew absolutely nothing, was a really valuable curiosity indeed. It
+was pleasant to think upon, in a speculative way.</p>
+
+<p>Another inspiring thought was the vision of Doc Turner and Ebenezer
+Squinch and Tom Fester and Andy Grout and Jim Christmas, with plenty
+of money to invest in a dubious enterprise. It seemed to be a call to
+arms. It would be a noble and a commendable thing to spoil those
+Egyptians; to smite them hip and thigh!</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3>INTRODUCING A NOVEL MEANS OF EATING CAKE AND<br />
+HAVING IT TOO</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">D</span>oc Turner and Ebenezer Squinch and Tom Fester, all doing business on
+the second floor of the old Turner building, were thrown into a fever
+of curiosity by the tall, healthy, jovial young man with the great
+breadth of white-waistcoated chest, who had rented the front suite of
+offices on their floor. His rooms he fitted up regardless of expense,
+and he immediately hired an office-boy, a secretary and two
+stenographers, all of whom were conspicuously idle. Doc Turner, who
+had a long, thin nose with a bluish tip, as if it had been
+case-tempered for boring purposes, was the first to scrape
+acquaintance with the jovial young gentleman, but was chagrined to
+find that though Mr. Wallingford was most democratic and easily
+approachable, still he was most evasive about his business. Nor could
+any of his office force be &#8220;pumped.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;The People&#8217;s Mutual Bond and Loan Company&#8221; was the name which a sign
+painter, after a few days, blocked out upon the glass doors, but the
+mere name was only a whet to the aggravated appetites of the other
+tenants. Turner and Fester and Squinch were in the latter&#8217;s office,
+discussing the mystery with some trace of irritation, when the source
+of it walked in upon them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad to find you all together,&#8221; said young Wallingford breezily,
+coming at once to the point of his visit. &#8220;I understand that you
+gentlemen were once a part of the directorate of a national building
+and loan company which suspended business.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ebenezer Squinch, taking the chair by virtue of his being already
+seated with his long legs elevated upon his own desk, craned forward
+his head upon an absurdly slender neck, which much resembled that of a
+warty squash, placed the tips of his wrinkled fingers together and
+gazed across them at Wallingford quite judicially.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Suppose we were to admit that fact?&#8221; he queried, in non-committal
+habit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am informed that you had a membership of some nine hundred when you
+suspended business,&#8221; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>Wallingford went on, &#8220;and among your effects you
+have doubtless retained a list of that membership.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doubtless,&#8221; assented Lawyer Squinch after a thoughtful pause,
+deciding that he might, at least partially, admit that much.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What will you take for that list, or a copy of it?&#8221; went on Mr.
+Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Turner, Mr. Squinch and Mr. Fester looked at one another in turn.
+In the mind of each gentleman there instantly sprang a conjecture, not
+as to the actual value of that list, but as to how much money young
+Wallingford had at his command. Both Mr. Fester and Mr. Turner sealing
+their mouths tightly, Mr. Fester straightly and Mr. Turner pursily,
+looked to Mr. Squinch for an adequate reply, knowing quite well that
+their former partner would do nothing ill-considered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m,&#8221; nasally hesitated Mr. Squinch after long
+cogitation; &#8220;this list, Mr. Wallingford, is very valuable indeed, and
+I am quite sure that none of us here would think of setting a price on
+it until we had called into consultation our other former directors,
+Mr. Grout and Mr. Christmas.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me know as soon as you can, gentlemen,&#8221; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>said Mr. Wallingford. &#8220;I
+would like a price by to-morrow afternoon at two o&#8217;clock, at least.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Another long pause.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think,&#8221; stated Mr. Squinch, as deliberately and as carefully as if
+he were announcing a supreme court decision&mdash;&#8220;I think that we may
+promise an answer by to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They were all silent, very silent, as Mr. Wallingford walked out, but
+the moment they heard his own door close behind him conjecture began.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder how much money he&#8217;s got,&#8221; speculated fish-white Doc Turner,
+rubbing his claw-like hands softly together.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s stopping at the Telford Hotel and occupies two of the best rooms
+in the house,&#8221; said blocky Mr. Fester, he of the bone-hard countenance
+and the straight gash where his lips ought to be.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He handed me a hundred-dollar bill to take the change out of for the
+first month&#8217;s rent in advance,&#8221; supplemented Doc Turner, who was
+manager of the Turner block.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He wears very large diamonds, I notice,&#8221; observed Squinch. &#8220;I
+imagine, gentlemen, that he might be willing to pay quite two thousand
+dollars.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;He&#8217;s young,&#8221; assented Mr. Turner, warming his hands over the thought.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And reckless,&#8221; added Mr. Fester, with a wooden appreciation that was
+his nearest approach to a smile.</p>
+
+<p>Their estimate of the youth and recklessness of the lamb-like Mr.
+Wallingford was such that they mutually paused to muse upon it, though
+not at all unpleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Suppose that we say twenty-five hundred,&#8221; resumed Mr. Squinch. &#8220;That
+will give each of the five of us five hundred dollars apiece. At that
+rate I&#8217;d venture to speak for both Grout and Christmas.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We three have a majority vote,&#8221; suggested Doc Turner. &#8220;However, it&#8217;s
+easy enough to see them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Need we do so?&#8221; inquired Mr. Squinch, in slow thought. &#8220;We might&mdash;&#8221;
+and then he paused, struck by a sudden idea, and added hastily: &#8220;Oh,
+of course, we&#8217;ll have to give them a voice in the matter. I&#8217;ll see
+them to-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; assented Doc Turner, rising with alacrity and looking at
+his watch. &#8220;By the way, I have to see a man. I pretty near overlooked
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That reminds me,&#8221; said Mr. Fester, heaving himself up ponderously and
+putting on the hat which <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>should have been square, &#8220;I have to
+foreclose a mortgage this afternoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Squinch also rose. It had occurred to all three of them
+simultaneously to go privately to the two remaining members and buy
+out their interest in the list for the least possible money.</p>
+
+<p>J. Rufus found the full board in session, however, when he walked into
+Mr. Squinch&#8217;s office on the following afternoon. Mr. Grout was a
+loose-skinned man of endless down-drooping lines, the corners of his
+eyelids running down past his cheek-bones, the corners of his nose
+running down past his mouth, the corners of his mouth running down
+past his chin. Mr. Christmas had over-long, rusty-gray hair, bulbous
+red ears, and an appalling outburst of scarlet veins netted upon his
+copper-red countenance. Notwithstanding their vast physical
+differences, however, Wallingford reflected that he had never seen
+five men who, after all, looked more alike. And why not, since they
+were all of one mind?</p>
+
+<p>By way of illustrating the point, Mr. Grout and Mr. Christmas, finding
+that the list in question had some value, and knowing well their
+former partners, had steadfastly refused to sell, and the five of
+them, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>meeting upon the common ground of self-interest, had agreed to
+one thing&mdash;that they would ask five thousand dollars for the list, and
+take what they could get.</p>
+
+<p>When the price was named to him, Mr. Wallingford merely chuckled, and
+observed, as he turned toward the door:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are mistaken, gentlemen. I did not want to buy out your
+individual businesses. I am willing to give you one thousand dollars
+in stock of my company, which will be two shares each.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The gentlemen could not think of that. It was preposterous. They would
+not consider any other than a cash offer to begin with, nor less than
+twenty-five hundred to end with.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well, then,&#8221; said J. Rufus; &#8220;I can do without your list,&#8221; which
+was no matter for wonder, since he had a duplicate of it in his desk
+at that very moment.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Henry Smalzer was the first man on that defunct building and loan
+company list, and him Wallingford went to see. He found Mr. Smalzer in
+a little shoe repair shop, with a shoe upturned on his knee and held
+firmly in place by a strap passing under <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>his foot. Mr. Smalzer had
+centrifugal whiskers, and long habit of looking up without rising from
+his work had given his eyes a coldly suspicious look. Moreover,
+socialistic argument, in red type, was hung violently upon the walls,
+and Mr. Wallingford, being a close student of the psychological moment
+and man, merely had a loose shoe-button tightened.</p>
+
+<p>The next man on the list was a barber with his hair parted in the
+middle and hand-curled in front. In the shop was no literature but the
+Police Gazette, and in the showcase were six brands of stogies and one
+brand of five-cent cigars. Here Mr. Wallingford merely purchased a
+shave, reflecting that he could put a good germicide on his face when
+he returned to the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>He began to grow impatient when he found that his third man kept a
+haberdashery, but, nevertheless, he went in. A clerk of the pale-eyed,
+lavender-tie type was gracing the front counter, but in the rear, at a
+little standing desk behind a neat railing, stood one who was
+unmistakably the proprietor, though he wore a derby hat cocked on his
+head and a big cigar cocked in the opposite corner of his mouth.
+Tossed on the back part of the desk was a race-track badge, and the
+man was studying a form sheet!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Mr. Merrill, I believe,&#8221; said Wallingford confidently approaching
+that gentleman and carelessly laying his left hand&mdash;the one with the
+three-carat diamond upon the third finger&mdash;negligently upon the rail.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Merrill&#8217;s keen, dark-gray eyes rested first upon that three-carat
+ring, then upon the three-carat stone in Mr. Wallingford&#8217;s carmine
+cravat, then upon Mr. Wallingford&#8217;s jovial countenance with the
+multiplicity of smile wrinkles about the eyes, and Mr. Merrill himself
+smiled involuntarily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The same,&#8221; he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Merrill,&#8221; propounded Wallingford, &#8220;how would you like to borrow
+from ten dollars to five thousand, for four years, without interest
+and without security?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Merrill&#8217;s eyes narrowed, and the flesh upon his face became quite
+firm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not if I have to pay money for it,&#8221; he announced, and the
+conversation would have ended right there had it not been for
+Wallingford&#8217;s engaging personality, a personality so large and
+comprehensive that it made Mr. Merrill reflect that, though this
+jovial stranger was undoubtedly engineering a &#8220;skin game,&#8221; he was
+quite evidently &#8220;no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>piker,&#8221; and was, therefore, entitled to courteous
+consideration.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What you have to pay won&#8217;t break you,&#8221; said Wallingford, laughing,
+and presented a neatly engraved card conveying merely the name of The
+People&#8217;s Mutual Bond and Loan Company, the fact that it was
+incorporated for a hundred thousand dollars, and that the capital was
+all paid in. &#8220;A loan bond,&#8221; added Mr. Wallingford, &#8220;costs you one
+dollar, and the payments thereafter are a dollar and a quarter a
+week.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Merrill nodded as he looked at the card.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; said he. &#8220;It&#8217;s one of those pleasant little games, I suppose,
+where the first man in gets the money of the next dozen, and the last
+five thousand hold the bag.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I knew you&#8217;d guess wrong,&#8221; said Wallingford cheerfully. &#8220;The plan&#8217;s
+entirely different. Everybody gets a chance. With every payment you
+sign a loan application and your receipt is numbered, giving you four
+numbered receipts in the month. Every month one-fourth of the loan
+fund is taken out for a grand annual distribution, and the balance is
+distributed in monthly loans.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; exclaimed Mr. Merrill, the firmness of his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>facial muscles
+relaxing and the cold look in his eyes softening. &#8220;A lottery? Now I&#8217;m
+listening.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; replied Wallingford, smiling, &#8220;we can&#8217;t call it that, you
+know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll take a chance,&#8221; said Mr. Merrill.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wallingford, with rare wisdom, promptly stopped argument and
+produced a beautifully printed &#8220;bond&#8221; from his pocket, which he made
+out in Mr. Merrill&#8217;s name.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I might add,&#8221; said J. Rufus, after having taken another careful
+inspection of Mr. Merrill, &#8220;that you win the first prize, payable in
+the shape of food and drink. I&#8217;d like to have you take dinner with me
+at the hotel this evening.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Merrill, from force of habit, looked at his watch, then looked at
+Mr. Wallingford speculatively.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t mind if I do,&#8221; said he, quite well satisfied that the dinner
+would be pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>In his own carpenter-shop Wallingford found Mr. Albert Wright at a
+foot-power circular-saw, with his hair and his eyebrows and his
+mustache full of the same fine, white wood dust that covered his
+overalls and jumper; and up over the saw, against the wall, was tacked
+the time-yellowed placard of a long-since-eaten strawberry festival.
+With his eyes and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>his mind upon this placard, Mr. Wallingford
+explained his new boon to humanity: the great opportunity for a
+four-year loan, without interest or security, of from ten dollars to
+five thousand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But this is nothing more nor less than a lottery, under another
+name,&#8221; objected Mr. Wright, poising an accusing finger, his eyes, too,
+unconsciously straying to the strawberry festival placard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a bit of it,&#8221; denied Wallingford, shocked beyond measure. &#8220;It is
+merely a mutual benefit association, where a large number of people
+pool their small sums of money to make successive large ones. For
+instance, suppose that a hundred of you should band together to put in
+one dollar a week, the entire hundred dollars to go to a different
+member each week? Each one would be merely saving up a hundred
+dollars, but, in place of every one of the entire hundred of you
+having to wait a hundred weeks to save his hundred dollars, one of you
+would be saving it in one week, while the longest man in would only
+have to pay the hundred weeks. It is merely a device, Mr. Wright, for
+concentrating the savings of a large number of people.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wright was forcibly impressed with Wallingford&#8217;s illustration,
+but, being a very bright man, he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>put that waving, argumentative
+finger immediately upon a flaw.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Half of that hundred people would not stay through to the end, and
+somebody would get left,&#8221; he objected, well pleased with himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Precisely,&#8221; agreed Mr. Wallingford. &#8220;That is just what our company
+obviates. Every man who drops out helps the man who stays in, by not
+having any claim upon the redemption fund. The redemption fund saves
+us from being a lottery. When you have paid in two hundred and fifty
+dollars your bond matures and you get your money back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Out of&mdash;&#8221; hesitated Mr. Wright, greatly perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The redemption fund. It is supplied from returned loans.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the bright Mr. Wright saw a radical objection.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Half of those people would not pay back their loans,&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We figure that a certain number would not pay,&#8221; admitted Wallingford,
+&#8220;but there would be a larger proportion than you think who would. For
+instance, you would pay back your loan at the end of four years,
+wouldn&#8217;t you, Mr. Wright?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p><p>Mr. Wright was hastily sure of it, though he became thoughtful
+immediately thereafter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So would a large majority of the others,&#8221; Wallingford went on.
+&#8220;Honesty is more prevalent than you would imagine, sir. However, all
+our losses from this source will be made up by lapsation.
+<i>Lapsation!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wallingford laid emphatic stress upon this vital principle and
+fixed Mr. Wright&#8217;s mild blue eyes with his own glittering ones.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A man who drops a payment on his bond gets nothing back&mdash;that is a
+part of his contract&mdash;and the steady investor reaps the benefit, as he
+should. Suppose you hold bond number ten; suppose at the time of
+maturity, bonds number three, five, six, eight and nine have lapsed,
+after having paid in from one-fourth to three-fourths of their money;
+that leaves only bonds one, two, four, seven and ten to be paid from
+the redemption fund. I don&#8217;t suppose you understand how large a
+percentage of lapsation there is. Let me show you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>From his pocket Mr. Wallingford produced a little red book, showing
+how in industrial and fraternal insurance the percentage of lapsation
+amounts to a staggering percentage, thus reducing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>by forfeited
+capital the cost of insurance in those organizations.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So you see, Mr. Wright,&#8221; concluded Wallingford, snapping shut the
+book and putting it in his pocket, &#8220;this, in the end, is only a
+splendid device for saving money and for using it while you are saving
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>On this ground, after much persuasion, he sold a bond to the careful
+Mr. Wright, and quit work for the day, well satisfied with his two
+dollars&#8217; commission. At a fifteen-dollar dinner that evening Mr.
+Merrill found him a good fellow, and, being interested not only in
+Wallingford&#8217;s &#8220;lottery&#8221; but in Wallingford himself, gave him the names
+of a dozen likely members. Later he even went so far as to see some of
+them himself on behalf of the company.</p>
+
+<p>Two days after that Mr. Wallingford called again on his careful
+carpenter, and from that gentleman secured a personal recommendation
+to a few friends of Mr. Wright&#8217;s particular kind.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3>WHEREIN BLACKIE DAW PLAYS A BRIEF CHARACTER<br />
+BIT</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>ndy Grout came into Doc Turner&#8217;s office in a troubled mood, every
+down-drooping line in his acid countenance absolutely vertical.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve made a mistake,&#8221; he squeaked. &#8220;This young Wallingford is a
+hustler, and he&#8217;s doing some canvassing himself. In the past week he&#8217;s
+taken at least forty members for his loan company, and every man Jack
+of them are old members of ours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Doc Turner began rubbing his frosted hands together at a furious rate.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Squinch has sold us out!&#8221; he charged. &#8220;He&#8217;s let Wallingford copy that
+list on the sly!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t think so,&#8221; said Grout, more lugubrious than ever. &#8220;I made
+some inquiries. You know, a lot of these fellows are customers of
+mine, and I find that he just happened to land on some of them in the
+first place. One recommends him to the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>others, just as we got them.
+If we don&#8217;t sell him that list right away he won&#8217;t need it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Together they went to Squinch and explained the matter, very much to
+that gentleman&#8217;s discomfiture and even agitation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s his plan of operation, anyhow?&#8221; complained Squinch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t understand it,&#8221; returned Andy. &#8220;I found out this much,
+though: the members all expect to get rich as soon as the company
+starts operating.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Squinch pounded his long finger-tips together for some time while
+he pondered the matter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It might be worth while to have a share or two of stock in his
+company, merely to find out his complete plan,&#8221; he sagely concluded.
+&#8220;If he&#8217;s getting members that easy it&#8217;s quite evident there is some
+good money to be made on the inside.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This was the unanimous opinion of the entire five members of the board
+of directors, and as each member was in positive pain on the subject
+of &#8220;good money on the inside,&#8221; they called a meeting that very
+afternoon in Mr. Squinch&#8217;s office, inviting Mr. Wallingford to attend,
+which he did with inward alacrity but outward indifference.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Wallingford,&#8221; said Mr. Squinch, &#8220;we have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>about decided to accept
+your offer for our list, but before doing so we will have to ask you
+to explain to us the organization of your company.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very simple,&#8221; Wallingford told them cheerfully. &#8220;It&#8217;s incorporated
+for a hundred thousand dollars; a thousand shares of a hundred dollars
+each.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All paid in?&#8221; Mr. Squinch wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All paid in,&#8221; replied Mr. Wallingford calmly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed!&#8221; commented Mr. Squinch. &#8220;Who owns the stock?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My four office assistants own one share each and I own the balance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A smile pervaded the faces of all but one of the members of the board
+of directors of the defunct National Building and Loan Association.
+Even Tom Fester&#8217;s immovable countenance presented a curiously strained
+appearance. Strange as it may seem, the dummy-director idea was no
+novelty in New Jersey.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I take it, then, that the paid-in capitalization of the company is
+not represented in actual cash,&#8221; said Mr. Squinch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; admitted Wallingford cheerfully. &#8220;As a matter of fact, at our
+first meeting the directors paid <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>me ninety-five thousand dollars for
+my plan of operation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again broad smiles illuminated the faces of the four, and this time
+Tom Fester actually accomplished a smile himself, though the graining
+might be eternally warped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you started in business,&#8221; sagely deduced Mr. Squinch, with the
+joined finger-tip attitude of a triumphant cross-examiner, &#8220;having but
+a total cash capitalization of five thousand dollars.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Exactly,&#8221; admitted Wallingford, chuckling. There was no reservation
+whatever about Mr. Wallingford. He seemed to regard the matter as a
+very fair joke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are a very bright young man,&#8221; Mr. Squinch complimented him, and
+that opinion was reflected in the faces of the others. &#8220;And what is
+your plan of loans, Mr. Wallingford?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Also very simple,&#8221; replied the bright young man. &#8220;The members are in
+loan groups, corresponding to the lodges of secret societies, and, in
+fact, their meetings are secret meetings. Each member pays in a dollar
+and a quarter a week, and the quarter goes into the expense fund.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p><p>The five individually and collectively nodded their heads.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Expense fund,&#8221; interpolated Doc Turner, his blue-tipped nose
+wrinkling with the enjoyment transmitted from his whetting palms,
+&#8220;meaning yourself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Exactly,&#8221; agreed Wallingford. &#8220;The dollar per week goes into the loan
+fund, but at the start there will be no loans made until there is a
+thousand dollars in the fund. Ten per cent. of this will be taken out
+for loan investigations and the payment of loan officers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Meaning, again, yourself,&#8221; squeaked Andy Grout, his vertical lines
+making obtuse bends.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Exactly,&#8221; again agreed Wallingford. &#8220;Twenty-five per cent. goes to
+the grand annual loan, and the balance will be distributed in loans as
+follows: One loan of two hundred and fifty dollars, one loan of one
+hundred, one of fifty, four of twenty-five and fifteen of ten dollars
+each. These loans will be granted without other security than an
+unindorsed note of hand, payable in four years, without interest, and
+the loans will be made at the discretion of the loan committee,
+meeting in secret session.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Squinch drew a long breath.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;A lottery!&#8221; he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush!&#8221; said J. Rufus, chuckling. &#8220;Impossible. Every man gets his
+money back. Each member takes out a bond which matures in about four
+years, if he keeps up his steady payments of a dollar and a quarter a
+week without lapsation beyond four weeks, which four weeks may be made
+up on additional payment of a fine of twenty-five cents for each
+delinquent week, all fines, of course, going into the expense fund.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Doc Turner&#8217;s palms were by this time quite red from the friction.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And how, may I ask, are these bonds to be redeemed?&#8221; asked Mr.
+Squinch severely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In their numbered order,&#8221; announced Mr. Wallingford calmly, &#8220;from
+returned loans. When bond number one, for instance, is fully paid up,
+its face value will be two hundred and fifty dollars. If there is two
+hundred and fifty dollars in the redemption fund at that time&mdash;which
+the company, upon the face of the bonds, definitely refuses to
+guarantee, not being responsible for the honesty of its
+bond-holders&mdash;bond number one gets paid; if not, bond number one waits
+until sufficient money has been returned to the fund, and number
+two&mdash;or number <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>five, say, if two, three and four have lapsed&mdash;waits
+its redemption until number one has been paid.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A long and simultaneous sigh from five breasts attested the
+appreciation of his auditors for Mr. Wallingford&#8217;s beautiful plan of
+operation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; announced Mr. Squinch, placing his finger-tips ecstatically
+together, &#8220;your plan is not a lottery.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not by any means,&#8221; agreed Doc Turner, rubbing his palms.</p>
+
+<p>Jim Christmas, who never committed himself orally if he could help it,
+now chuckled thickly in his throat, and the scarlet network upon his
+face turned crimson.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think, Mr. Wallingford,&#8221; said Mr. Squinch, &#8220;I think that we will
+accept your offer of two shares of stock each for our list.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wallingford, having succeeded in giving these gentlemen a grasping
+personal interest in his profits, diplomatically withheld his smile
+for a private moment, and, turning over to each of the five gentlemen
+two shares of his own stock in the company, accepted the list.
+Afterward, in entering the item in his books, he purchased for the
+company, from himself, ten shares of stock for one thousand <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>dollars,
+paying himself the cash, and charged the issue of stock to the expense
+fund. Then he sat back and waited for the next move.</p>
+
+<p>It could not but strike such closely calculating gentlemen as the new
+members that here was a concern in which they ought to have more than
+a paltry two shares each of stock. Each gentleman, exercising his
+rights as a stock-holder, had insisted on poring carefully over the
+constitution and by-laws, the charter, the &#8220;bonds,&#8221; and all the other
+forms and papers. Each, again in his capacity of stock-holder, had
+kept careful track of the progress of the business, of the agents that
+were presently put out, and of the long list of names rapidly piling
+up in the card-index; and each made hints to J. Rufus about the
+purchase of additional stock, becoming regretful, however, when they
+found that the shares were held strictly at par.</p>
+
+<p>In this triumphant period Wallingford was aggravatingly jovial, even
+exasperating, in the crowing tone he took.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How are we getting along? Fine!&#8221; he declared to each stock-holder in
+turn. &#8220;Inside of six months we&#8217;ll have a membership of ten thousand!&#8221;
+And they were forced to believe him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>Probably none of the ex-members of the defunct loan association was so
+annoyed over the condition of affairs as Ebenezer Squinch, nor so
+nervously interested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought you intended to begin collecting your weekly payments when
+you had two hundred and fifty members,&#8221; he protested to Wallingford,
+&#8220;but you have close to five hundred now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s just the point,&#8221; explained Wallingford. &#8220;I&#8217;m doing so much
+better than I thought that I don&#8217;t intend to start the collections
+until I have a full thousand, which will let me have four thousand in
+the very first loan fund, making two hundred and fifty a week to the
+expense fund and a hundred a week for the loan committee, besides one
+thousand dollars toward the grand annual distribution. That will give
+me twenty-six hundred to be divided in one loan of a thousand, one of
+five hundred, one of two hundred and fifty, two of a hundred, four of
+fifty, ten of twenty-five, and twenty of ten dollars each; a grand
+distribution of thirty-nine loans in all. That keeps it from being a
+piker bet; and think what the first distribution and every
+distribution will do toward getting future membership! And they&#8217;ll
+grow larger every month. I don&#8217;t think it&#8217;ll take me <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>all that six
+months to get my ten thousand members.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Squinch, over his tightly pressed finger-tips, did a little rapid
+figuring. A membership of ten thousand would make a total income for
+the office, counting expense fund and loan committee fund, of three
+thousand five hundred per week, steadily, week in and week out, with
+endless possibilities of increase.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what did you say you would take for a half interest?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t say,&#8221; returned Wallingford, chuckling, &#8220;because I wouldn&#8217;t
+sell a half interest under any consideration. I don&#8217;t mind confessing
+to you, though, that I do need some money at once, so much so that I
+would part with four hundred and ninety-nine shares, right now, and
+for spot cash, for a lump sum of twenty-five thousand dollars.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bound to keep control himself,&#8221; Mr. Squinch reported to his
+<i>confr&egrave;res</i>, after having reluctantly confessed to himself that he
+could not take care of the proposition alone. &#8220;I don&#8217;t blame him so
+much, either, for he&#8217;s got a vast money-maker.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Money without end,&#8221; complained Andy Grout, his mouth stretching
+sourly down to the shape of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>narrow croquet wicket; &#8220;and the longer
+we stay out of this thing the more money we&#8217;re losing. It&#8217;s better
+than any building-loan.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a curious hesitation in Andy Grout&#8217;s voice as he spoke of
+the building-loan, for he had been heartbroken that they had been
+compelled to give up this lucrative business, and he was not over it
+yet.</p>
+
+<p>Doc Turner rubbed his perpetually lifeless hands together quite
+slowly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know whether we&#8217;re losing money or not,&#8221; he interjected.
+&#8220;There is no question but that Wallingford will make it, but I suppose
+you know why he won&#8217;t sell a half interest.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So he won&#8217;t lose control,&#8221; said Squinch, impatient that of so obvious
+a fact any explanation should be required.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But why does he want to keep control?&#8221; persisted Doc Turner. &#8220;Why, so
+he can vote himself a big salary as manager. No matter how much he
+made we&#8217;d get practically no dividends.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was shrewd Andy Grout whose high squeak broke the long silence
+following this palpable fact.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It seems to me we&#8217;re a lot of plumb idiots, anyhow,&#8221; he shrilled. &#8220;He
+wants twenty-five thousand <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>for less than fifty per cent. of the
+stock. That&#8217;s five thousand apiece for us. I move we put in the five
+thousand dollars apiece, but start a company of our own.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grout&#8217;s suggestion was a revelation which saved Jim Christmas from
+bursting one of his red veins in baffled cupidity. Negotiations with
+Mr. Wallingford for any part of his stock suddenly ceased. Instead,
+within a very short time there appeared upon the door of the only
+vacant office left in the Turner block, the sign: &#8220;The People&#8217;s
+Co&ouml;perative Bond and Loan Company.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wallingford did not seem to be in the slightest degree put out by
+the competition. In fact, he was most friendly with the new concern,
+and offered Doc Turner, who had been nominated manager of the new
+company, his assistance in arranging his card-index system, or upon
+any other point upon which he might need help.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s room enough for all of us,&#8221; he said cheerfully. &#8220;Of course, I
+think you fellows ought to pay me a royalty for using my plan, but
+there&#8217;s no way for me to compel you to do it. There&#8217;s one thing we
+ought to do, however, and that is to take steps to prevent a lot of
+other companies from jumping <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>in and spoiling our field. I think I&#8217;ll
+get right after that myself. I have a pretty strong pull in the state
+department.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They were holding this conversation three days after the sign went up,
+and Mr. Squinch, entering the office briskly to report a new agent
+that he had secured, frowned at finding Mr. Wallingford there.
+Business was business with Mr. Squinch, and social calls should be
+discouraged. Before he could frame his objection in words, however,
+another man entered the office, a stranger, a black-haired,
+black-eyed, black-mustached young man, of quite ministerial appearance
+indeed, as to mere clothing, who introduced himself to Doc Turner as
+one Mr. Clifford, and laid down before that gentleman a neatly folded
+parchment, at the same time displaying a beautiful little gold-plated
+badge.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am the state inspector of corporations,&#8221; said Mr. Clifford, &#8220;and
+this paper contains my credentials. I have come to inspect your plan
+of operation, and to examine all printed forms, books and minutes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wallingford rose to go, but a very natural curiosity apparently
+led him to remain standing, while Doc Turner, with a troubled glance
+at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>Ebenezer Squinch, rose to collect samples of all the company&#8217;s
+printed forms for the representative of the law.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wallingford sat down again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I might just as well stay,&#8221; he observed to Doc Turner, &#8220;because my
+interests are the same as yours.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Clifford looked up at him with a very sharp glance, as both Mr.
+Turner and Mr. Squinch took note. At once, however, Mr. Clifford went
+to work. In a remarkably short space of time, seeming, indeed, to have
+known just where to look for the flaw, he pointed out a phrase in the
+&#8220;bond,&#8221; the phrase pertaining to the plan of redemption.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gentlemen,&#8221; said he gravely, &#8220;I am very sorry to say that the state
+department can not permit you to do business with this bond, and that
+any attempt to do so will result in the revoking of your charter. I
+note that this is bond number one, and assume from this fact that you
+have not yet sold any of them. You are very lucky indeed not to have
+done so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A total paralysis settled upon Messrs. Turner and Squinch, a paralysis
+which was only relieved by the counter-irritant of Wallingford&#8217;s
+presence. To him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>Mr. Squinch made his first observation, and it was
+almost with a snarl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seems to me this rather puts a spoke in your wheel, too,
+Wallingford,&#8221; he observed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is this Mr. Wallingford?&#8221; asked Mr. Clifford, suddenly rising with a
+cordial smile. &#8220;I am very glad indeed to meet you, Mr. Wallingford,&#8221;
+he said as he shook hands with that gentleman. &#8220;They told me about you
+at the state department. As soon as I&#8217;ve finished here I&#8217;ll drop in to
+look at your papers, just as a matter of form, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you refuse to let us operate,&#8221; interposed Mr. Squinch in his most
+severely legal tone, &#8220;you will be compelled to refuse Mr. Wallingford
+permission to operate also!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not so sure about that,&#8221; replied Mr. Clifford suavely. &#8220;The
+slightest variation in forms of this sort can sometimes make a very
+great difference, and I have no doubt that I shall find such a
+divergence; no doubt whatever! By the way, Wallingford,&#8221; he said,
+turning again to that highly pleased gentleman, &#8220;Jerrold sent his
+respects to you. He was telling me a good story about you that I&#8217;ll
+have to go over with you by and by. I want you to take dinner with me
+to-night, anyhow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/i147.jpg" class="ispace" width="500" height="299" alt="&#8220;I shall be very much pleased,&#8221; said Wallingford" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;I shall be very much pleased,&#8221; said Wallingford</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p><p>Jerrold was the state auditor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I shall be very much pleased,&#8221; said Wallingford. &#8220;I&#8217;ll just drop into
+the office and get my papers laid out for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; agreed Mr. Clifford carelessly. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want to spend
+much time over them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Other fatal flaws Mr. Clifford found in the Turner and Company plan of
+operation, and when he left the office of The People&#8217;s Co&ouml;perative
+Bond and Loan Company, the gentlemen present representing that concern
+felt dismally sure that their doom was sealed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re up against a pull again,&#8221; said Doc Turner despondently. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+the building-loan company experience all over again. You can&#8217;t do
+anything any more in this country without a pull.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And it won&#8217;t do any good for us to go up to Trenton and try to get
+one,&#8221; concluded Mr. Squinch with equal despondency. &#8220;We tried that
+with the building-loan company and failed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the office of The People&#8217;s Mutual Bond and Loan Company there was
+no despondency whatever, for Mr. Wallingford and the dark-haired
+gentleman who had given his name as Mr. Clifford were shaking hands
+with much glee.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;They fell for it like kids for a hoky-poky cart, Blackie,&#8221; exulted
+Wallingford. &#8220;They&#8217;re in there right this minute talking about the
+cash value of a pull. That was the real ready-money tip of all the
+information I got from old Colonel Fox.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They had lit cigars and were still gleeful when a serious thought came
+to Mr. Clifford, erstwhile Mr. Daw.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is a dangerous proposition, though, J. Rufus,&#8221; he objected.
+&#8220;Suppose they actually take this matter up with the state department?
+Suppose they even go there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, they can&#8217;t prove any connection between you and me, and you
+will be out of the road,&#8221; said Wallingford. &#8220;I don&#8217;t mind confessing
+that it&#8217;s nearer an infraction of the law than I like, though, and
+hereafter I don&#8217;t intend to come so close. It isn&#8217;t necessary. But in
+this case there&#8217;s nothing to fear. These lead-pipe artists are scared
+so stiff by their fall-down on the building-loan game that they&#8217;ll
+take their medicine right here and now. They&#8217;ll come to me before
+to-morrow night, now that I&#8217;ve got them, to collect their money in a
+wad in the new company. They might even start work to-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p><p>He rose from the table in his private office and went to the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Billy!&#8221; he called.</p>
+
+<p>A sharp-looking young fellow with a pen behind his ear came from the
+other room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Billy, here&#8217;s a hundred dollars for you,&#8221; said Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; said Billy. &#8220;Who&#8217;s to be thugged?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nobody,&#8221; replied Wallingford, laughing. &#8220;It&#8217;s just a good-will gift.
+By the way, if Doc Turner or any of that crowd back there makes any
+advances to you to buy your share of stock, sell it to them, and
+you&#8217;re a rank sucker if you take less than two hundred for it. Also
+tell them that you can get three other shares from the office force at
+the same price.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Billy, with great deliberation, took a pin from the lapel of his coat
+and pinned his hundred-dollar bill inside his inside vest pocket, then
+he winked prodigiously, and without another word withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s a smart kid,&#8221; said Blackie.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<h3>WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT OF THE MANAGEMENT<br />
+OF HIS OWN COMPANY</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">I</span>n the old game of &#8220;pick or poe&#8221; one boy held out a pin, concealed
+between his fingers, and the other boy guessed whether the head or
+point was toward him. It was a great study in psychology. The boy who
+held the pin had to do as much guessing as the other one. Having held
+forward heads the first time, should he reverse the pin the second
+time, or repeat heads? In so far as one of the two boys correctly
+gaged the elaborateness of the other&#8217;s mental process he was winner.
+At the age when he played this game Wallingford usually had all the
+pins in school. Now he was out-guessing the Doc Turner crowd. He had
+foreseen every step in their mental process; he had foreseen that they
+would start an opposition company; he had foreseen their extravagant
+belief in his &#8220;pull,&#8221; knowing what he did of their previous
+experience, and he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>had foreseen that now they would offer to buy up
+the stock held by his office force, so as to secure control, before
+opening fresh negotiations for the stock he had offered them.</p>
+
+<p>That very night Doc Turner called at the house of Billy Whipple to ask
+where he could get a good bird-dog, young Whipple being known as a
+gifted amateur in dogs. Billy, nothing loath, took Doc out to the
+kennel, where, by a fortunate coincidence, of which Mr. Turner had
+known nothing, of course, he happened to have a fine set of puppies.
+These Mr. Turner admired in a more or less perfunctory fashion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By the way, Billy,&#8221; he by and by inquired, &#8220;how do you like your
+position?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, so-so,&#8221; replied Billy. &#8220;The job looks good to me. Wallingford has
+started a very successful business.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How much does he pay you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Billy reflected. It was easy enough to let a lie slip off his tongue,
+but Turner had access to the books.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Twenty-five dollars a week,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You owe a lot to Wallingford,&#8221; observed Mr. Turner. &#8220;It&#8217;s the best
+pay you ever drew.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes, it is pretty good,&#8221; admitted Billy; &#8220;but I don&#8217;t owe Wallingford
+any more than I owe myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the dark Mr. Turner slowly placed his palms together.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a bright boy,&#8221; said Mr. Turner. &#8220;Billy, I don&#8217;t like to see a
+stranger come in here and gobble up the community&#8217;s money. It ought to
+stay in the hands of home folks. I&#8217;d like to get control of that
+business. If you&#8217;ll sell me your share of stock I might be able to
+handle it, and if I can I&#8217;ll advance your wages to thirty-five dollars
+a week.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a far pleasanter man than Wallingford,&#8221; said Billy amiably.
+&#8220;You&#8217;re a smarter man, a better man, a handsomer man! When do we start
+on that thirty-five?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very quickly, Billy, if you feel that way about it.&#8221; And the friction
+of Mr. Turner&#8217;s palms was perfectly audible. &#8220;Then I can have your
+share of stock?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You most certainly can, and I&#8217;ll guarantee to buy up three other
+shares in the office if you want them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good!&#8221; exclaimed Turner, not having expected to accomplish so much of
+his object so easily. &#8220;The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>minute you lay me down those four shares
+I&#8217;ll hand you four hundred dollars.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Eight,&#8221; Billy calmly corrected him. &#8220;Those shares are worth a hundred
+dollars apiece any place now. Mine&#8217;s worth more than two hundred to
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense,&#8221; protested the other. &#8220;Tell you what I&#8217;ll do, though. I&#8217;ll
+pay you two hundred dollars for your share and a hundred dollars
+apiece for the others.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Two,&#8221; insisted Billy. &#8220;We&#8217;ve talked it all over in the office, and
+we&#8217;ve agreed to pool our stock and stand out for two hundred apiece,
+if anybody wants it. As a matter of fact, I have all four shares in my
+possession at this moment,&#8221; and he displayed the certificates, holding
+up his lantern so that Turner could see them.</p>
+
+<p>The sight of the actual stock, the three other shares which the astute
+Billy had secured on the promise of a hundred and fifty dollars per
+share immediately after Wallingford&#8217;s pointer, clenched the business.</p>
+
+<p>It was scarcely as much a shock to Wallingford as the Turner crowd had
+expected it to be when those gentlemen, having purchased four hundred
+and ninety-nine shares of Wallingford&#8217;s stock at his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>own price, sat
+in the new stock-holders&#8217; meeting, at the reorganization upon which
+they had insisted, with five hundred and three shares, and J. Rufus
+made but feeble protest when the five of them, voting themselves into
+the directorate, decided to put the founder of the company on an
+extremely meager salary as assistant manager, and Mr. Turner on a
+slightly larger salary as chief manager.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s no use of saying anything,&#8221; he concluded philosophically.
+&#8220;You gentlemen have played a very clever game and I lose; that&#8217;s all
+there is to it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He thereupon took up the burden of the work and pushed through the
+matter of new memberships and of collections with a vigor and ability
+that could not but commend itself to his employers. The second week&#8217;s
+collections were now coming in, and it was during the following week
+that a large hollow wheel with a handle and crank, mounted on an axle
+like a patent churn, was brought into the now vacated room of the
+defunct People&#8217;s Co&ouml;perative Bond and Loan Company.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s this thing for?&#8221; asked Wallingford, inspecting it curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The drawing,&#8221; whispered Doc Turner.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What drawing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;The loans.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t mean to say that you&#8217;re going to conduct this as a
+lottery?&#8221; protested Wallingford, shocked and even distressed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sh! Don&#8217;t use that word,&#8221; cautioned Turner. &#8220;Not even among
+ourselves. You might use it in the wrong place some time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not use the word?&#8221; Wallingford indignantly wanted to know.
+&#8220;That&#8217;s what you&#8217;re preparing to do! I told you in the first place
+that this was not by any means to be considered as a lottery; that it
+was not to have any of the features of a lottery. Moreover, I shall
+not permit it to be conducted as a lottery!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Doc Turner leaned against the side of the big wooden wheel and stared
+at Wallingford in consternation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter with you?&#8221; he demanded. &#8220;Have you gone crazy, or
+what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sane enough that I don&#8217;t intend to be connected with a lottery! I
+have conscientious scruples about it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;May I ask, then, how you propose to decide these so-called loans?&#8221;
+inquired Turner, with palm-rubbing agitation.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Examine the records of the men who have made application,&#8221; explained
+Wallingford; &#8220;find out their respective reputations for honesty,
+reliability and prompt payment, and place the different loans,
+according to that information, in as many different towns as
+possible.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Doc Turner gazed at him in scorn for a full minute.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a damned fool!&#8221; he declared. &#8220;Why, you yourself intended to
+conduct this as a secret society, and I had intended to have
+representatives from at least three of the lodges attend each
+drawing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>To this Wallingford made no reply, and Turner, to ease his mind,
+locked the door on the lottery-wheel and went in to open the mail. It
+always soothed him to take money from envelopes. A great many of the
+letters pertaining to the business of the company were addressed to
+Wallingford in person, and Turner slit open all such letters as a
+matter of course. Half-way down the pile he opened one, addressed to
+Wallingford, which made him gasp and re-read. The letter read:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Jim</span>:</p>
+
+<p>They have found out your new name and where you are, and
+unless you get out of town on the first <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>train they&#8217;ll
+arrest you sure. I don&#8217;t need to remind you that they don&#8217;t
+hold manslaughter as a light offense in Massachusetts.</p>
+
+<p>Let me know your new name and address as soon as you have
+got safely away.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Your old pal.</span></span></p></div>
+
+<p>Doc Turner&#8217;s own fingers were trembling as he passed this missive to
+Wallingford, whose expectant eyes had been furtively fixed upon the
+pile of letters for some time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Too bad, old man,&#8221; said Turner, tremulously aghast. &#8220;Couldn&#8217;t help
+reading it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My God!&#8221; exclaimed Wallingford most dramatically. &#8220;It has come at
+last, just as I had settled down to lead a quiet, decent, respectable
+life, with every prospect in my favor!&#8221; He sprang up and looked at his
+watch. &#8220;I&#8217;ll have to move on again!&#8221; he dismally declared; &#8220;and I
+suppose they&#8217;ll chase me from one cover to another until they finally
+get me; but I&#8217;ll never give up! Please see what&#8217;s coming to me, Mr.
+Turner; you have the cash in the house to pay me, I know; and kindly
+get my stock certificates from the safe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Slowly and thoughtfully Turner took from the safe Wallingford&#8217;s four
+hundred and ninety-seven shares of stock, in four certificates of a
+hundred <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>shares each, one of fifty and one of forty-seven. Wallingford
+hurried them into an envelope, sitting down to write the address upon
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What are you going to do with those?&#8221; asked Turner with a thoughtful
+frown.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Send them to my friend in Boston and have him sell them for what he
+can get,&#8221; replied Wallingford with a sigh. &#8220;If the purchasers send any
+one here to find out about the business, you&#8217;ll, of course, give them
+every facility for investigation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To be sure; to be sure,&#8221; returned Turner. &#8220;But, say&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He paused a moment, and Wallingford, in the act of writing a hasty
+note to go with the stock certificates, hesitated, his pen poised just
+above the paper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll probably have to sell those shares at a sacrifice,
+Wallingford.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have no doubt,&#8221; he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>Doc Turner&#8217;s palms rubbed out a slow decision while Wallingford
+scratched away at his letter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Um-m-m-m-m-m-m&mdash;I say!&#8221; began Turner gropingly. &#8220;Rather than have
+those shares fall into the hands of strangers we might possibly make
+you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>an offer for them ourselves. Wait till I see Squinch.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He saw Squinch, he saw Tom Fester, he telephoned to Andy Grout, and
+the four of them gathered in solemn conclave. The consensus of the
+meeting was that if they could secure Wallingford&#8217;s shares at a low
+enough figure it was a good thing. Not one man among them but had
+regretted deeply the necessity of sharing any portion of the earnings
+of the company with Wallingford, or with one another, for that matter.
+Moreover, new stock-holders might &#8220;raise a rumpus&#8221; about their methods
+of conducting the business, as Wallingford had started to do. Gravely
+they called Wallingford in.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wallingford,&#8221; said Mr. Squinch, showing in his very tone his
+disrespect for a criminal, &#8220;Mr. Turner has acquainted us with the fact
+that you are compelled to leave us, and though we already have about
+as large a burden as we can conveniently carry, we&#8217;re willing to allow
+you five thousand dollars for your stock.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For four hundred and ninety-seven shares! Nearly fifty thousand
+dollars&#8217; worth!&#8221; gasped Wallingford, &#8220;and worth par!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is a debatable point,&#8221; said Mr. Squinch, placing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>his finger-tips
+together, and speaking with cold severity, &#8220;as to whether that stock
+is worth par or not at the present moment. I should say that it is
+not, particularly the stock that <i>you</i> hold.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Even at a sacrifice,&#8221; insisted Wallingford, &#8220;my friend ought to be
+able to get fifty dollars a share for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must remember, Mr. Wallingford,&#8221; returned the severe voice, &#8220;that
+you are not so free to negotiate as you seemed to be an hour or so
+ago. In a word, you are a fugitive from justice, and I don&#8217;t know,
+myself, but what our duty, anyhow, would be to give you up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Not one man there but would have done it if it had been to his
+advantage.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You wouldn&#8217;t do that!&#8221; pleaded Wallingford, most piteously indeed.
+&#8220;Why, gentlemen, the mere fact that I am in life-and-death need of
+every cent I can get ought to make you more liberal with me;
+particularly in view of the fact that I made this business, that I
+built it up, and that all its profits that you are to reap are due to
+me. Why, at twenty thousand the stock would be a fine bargain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This they thoroughly believed&mdash;but business is business!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Utterly impossible,&#8221; said Mr. Squinch.</p>
+
+<p>The slyly rubbing palms of Mr. Turner, the down-shot lines of Andy
+Grout&#8217;s face, the compressed lips of Tom Fester, all affirmed Mr.
+Squinch&#8217;s decided negative.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Give me fifteen,&#8221; pleaded Wallingford. &#8220;Twelve&mdash;ten.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They would not. To each of these proposals they shook emphatic heads.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well,&#8221; said Wallingford, and quietly wrote an address on the
+envelope containing his certificates. He tossed the envelope on the
+postal scales, sealed it, took stamps from his drawer and pasted them
+on. &#8220;Then, gentlemen, good day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait a minute,&#8221; hastily protested Mr. Squinch. &#8220;Gentlemen, suppose we
+confer a minute.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Heads bent together, they conferred.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll give you eight thousand dollars,&#8221; said Squinch as a result of
+the conference. &#8220;We&#8217;ll go right down and draw it out of the bank in
+cash and give it to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was not a trace of hesitation in Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve made my lowest offer,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Ten thousand or I&#8217;ll drop these
+in the mail box.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p><p>They were quite certain that Wallingford meant business, as indeed he
+did. He had addressed the envelope to Blackie Daw and he was quite
+sure that he could make the shares worth at least ten thousand.</p>
+
+<p>Once more they conferred.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; agreed Mr. Squinch reluctantly. &#8220;We&#8217;ll do it&mdash;out of
+charity.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t care what it&#8217;s out of, so long as I get the money,&#8221; said
+Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>In New York, where Wallingford met Blackie Daw by appointment, the
+latter was eager to know the details.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The letter did the business, I suppose, eh, Wallingford?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fine and dandy,&#8221; assented Wallingford. &#8220;A great piece of work, and
+timed to the hour. I saw the envelope in that batch of mail before I
+made my play.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Manslaughter!&#8221; shrieked Blackie by and by. &#8220;On the level, J. Rufus,
+did you ever kill anything bigger than a mosquito?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. I think I made quite a sizable killing down in Doc
+Turner&#8217;s little old town,&#8221; he said complacently.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think so,&#8221; disputed Blackie thoughtfully. &#8220;I may be a
+cheese-head, but I don&#8217;t see why you sold your stock, anyhow. Seems to
+me you had a good graft there. Why didn&#8217;t you hold on to it? It was a
+money-maker.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; denied Wallingford with decision. &#8220;It&#8217;s an illegal business,
+Blackie, and I won&#8217;t have anything to do with an illegal business. The
+first thing you know that lottery will be in trouble with the federal
+government, and I&#8217;m on record as never having conducted any part of it
+after it became a lottery. Another thing, in less than a year that
+bunch of crooks will be figuring on how to land the capital prize for
+themselves under cover. No, Blackie, a quick turn and legal safety for
+mine, every time. It pays better. Why, I cleaned up thirty thousand
+dollars net profit on this in three months! Isn&#8217;t that good pay?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It makes a crook look like a fool,&#8221; admitted Blackie Daw.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<h3>BEAUTY PHILLIPS STEPS INTO THE SPOT-LIGHT FOR<br />
+HER GRAND SPECIALTY</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">O</span>f course Blackie got his &#8220;bit&#8221; out of the spoils and hurried away to
+pursue certain fortune-making plans of his own, while young
+Wallingford, stopping in New York, prepared as elaborately to spend
+one. It was some trouble at first to find the most expensive things in
+New York, but at last he located them in the race-track and in Beauty
+Phillips, the latter being the moderately talented but gorgeous &#8220;hit&#8221;
+of <i>The Pink Canary</i>; and the thoroughbreds and Beauty made a splendid
+combination, so perfect in their operations that one beautiful day
+Wallingford awoke to the fact that the time had almost arrived to go
+to work. At the moment he made this decision, the Beauty, as richly
+colored and as expressionless as a wax model, was sitting at his side
+in the grand-stand, with her eyes closed, jabbing a hole at random in
+the card of the fifth race.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Bologna!&#8221; exclaimed Wallingford, noting where the fateful pin-hole
+had appeared. &#8220;It&#8217;s a nice comic-supplement name; but I&#8217;ll go down to
+the ring and burn another hundred or so on him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The band broke into a lively air, and the newest sensation of
+Broadway, all in exquisite violet from nodding plume to silken hose,
+looked out over the sunlit course in calm rumination. Her companion,
+older but not too old, less handsome but not too ill-favored, less
+richly dressed but not too plainly, nudged her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There goes your Money and Moonshine song again, dearie,&#8221; she
+observed.</p>
+
+<p>Still calmly, as calmly as a digestive cow in pleasant shade, the star
+of <i>The Pink Canary</i> replied:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you see I&#8217;m trying not to hear it, mother?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of &#8220;Mrs. Phillips&#8221; narrowed a trifle, and sundry tiny but
+sharp lines, revealing much but concealing more, flashed upon her brow
+and were gone. J. Rufus glanced in perplexity at her as he had done a
+score of times, wondering at her self-repression, at her unrevealed
+depths of wisdom, at her clever acting of a most difficult r&ocirc;le; for
+Beauty Phillips, being a wise young lady and having no convenient
+mother of her own, had hired one, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>by this device was enabled to
+remain as placidly Platonic as a plate of ice-cream. Well, it was
+worth rich gifts merely to be seen in proprietorship of her at the
+supper places.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford rose without enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bologna won&#8217;t win!&#8221; he announced with resigned conviction.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure not!&#8221; agreed Beauty Phillips. &#8220;Bologna will stop to think at the
+Barrier, and finish in the road of the next race.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bologna has to win,&#8221; Wallingford rejoined, disputing both her and
+himself. &#8220;There&#8217;s only a little over a thousand left in your Uncle
+Jimmy&#8217;s bank-roll.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you had over forty thousand when Sammy Harrison introduced us,&#8221;
+said the Beauty with a sigh. &#8220;Honest, Pinky, somebody has sure put a
+poison curse on you. You&#8217;re a grand little sport, but on the level,
+I&#8217;m afraid to trail around with you much longer. I&#8217;m afraid I&#8217;ll lose
+my voice or break a leg.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Old pal,&#8221; agreed J. Rufus, &#8220;the hex is sure on me, and if I don&#8217;t
+walk around my chair real quick, the only way I&#8217;ll get to see you will
+be to buy a gallery seat.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I was just going to talk with you about that, Jimmy,&#8221; stated the
+Beauty seriously. &#8220;You&#8217;ve been a perfect gentleman in every respect,
+and I will say I never met a party that was freer with his coin; but
+I&#8217;ve got to look out for my future. I won&#8217;t always be a hit, and I&#8217;ve
+got to pick out a good marrying proposition while the big bouquets
+grow with my name already on &#8217;em. Of course, you know, I couldn&#8217;t
+marry you, because nothing less than a million goes. If you only had
+the money now&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at him with a certain lazy admiration. He was
+tremendously big; and rather good-looking, too, she gaged, although
+the blue eyes that were set in his jovial big countenance were
+entirely too small.</p>
+
+<p>In reply to her unfinished sentence J. Rufus chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you worry about that, little one,&#8221; said he. &#8220;I only wear you on
+my arm for the same reason that I wear this Tungsten-light boulder in
+my necktie: just to show &#8217;em I&#8217;m the little boy that can grab off the
+best there is in the market. Of course it&#8217;d be fine and dandy to win
+you for keeps, but I know where you bought your ticket for, long ago.
+You&#8217;ll end by getting your millionaire. In six months he&#8217;ll <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>go dippy
+over some other woman, and then you&#8217;ll get your alimony, which is not
+only a handy thing to have around the house, but proves that you&#8217;re
+perfectly respectable.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got some good ideas, anyhow,&#8221; she complimented him, and then
+she sighed. &#8220;The only trouble is, every time one lines up that I
+think&#8217;ll do, I find he&#8217;s got a wife hid away some place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And it isn&#8217;t set down in her lines to fix up alimony for some other
+woman,&#8221; commented the pseudo Mrs. Phillips.</p>
+
+<p>A couple of men, one nattily dressed and with curly hair, and the
+other short and fat and wearing a flaming waistcoat, passed on their
+way down to the betting-shed and carelessly tipped their hats.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you know those two cheaps?&#8221; she inquired, eying their retreating
+backs with disfavor.</p>
+
+<p>Again Wallingford chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Know them!&#8221; he replied. &#8220;I should say I do! Green-Goods Harry Phelps
+and Badger Billy Banting? Why, they and their friends, Short-Card
+Larry Teller and Yap Pickins, framed up a stud poker game on me the
+first week I hit town, with the lovely idea of working a phoney pinch
+on me; but I got a real cop to hand them the triple cross, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>took
+five thousand away from them so easy it was like taking four-o&#8217;clock
+milk from a doorstep.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad of it,&#8221; she said, with as much trace of vindictiveness as
+her beauty specialist would have permitted. &#8220;They&#8217;re an awful
+low-class crowd. They came over to my table one night in Shirley&#8217;s,
+after I&#8217;d met them only once, and butted in on a rich gentleman friend
+of mine from Washington. They run up an awful bill on him and never
+offered even to buy cigars, and then when he was gone for a minute to
+pick out our wagon, they tried to get fresh with me right in front of
+mother. I&#8217;m glad somebody stung &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A very thick-set man, with an inordinately broad jaw and an
+indefinable air of blunt aggressiveness, came past them and nodded to
+J. Rufus with a grudging motion toward his shapeless slouch hat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s that?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jake Block,&#8221; he replied. &#8220;A big owner with so much money he could bed
+his horses in it, and an ingrowing grouch that has put a crimp in his
+information works. He&#8217;s never been known to give out a tip since he
+was able to lisp &#8216;mamma.&#8217; He eats nothing but <i>table d&#8217;h&ocirc;te</i> dinners
+so he won&#8217;t have to tell the waiters what he likes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p><p>Jake Block, on some brief errand to the press box, returned just as J.
+Rufus was starting down to the betting-shed, and he stopped a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How are you picking them to-day, Wallingford?&#8221; he asked
+perfunctorily, with his eye on Beauty Phillips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Same way,&#8221; confessed Wallingford. &#8220;I haven&#8217;t cashed a ticket in the
+meeting. I have the kind of luck that would scale John D.
+Rockefeller&#8217;s bank-roll down to the size of a dance-program lead
+pencil.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said Jake philosophically, his eyes still on the Beauty,
+&#8220;sometimes they come bad for a long time, and then they come worse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At this bit of wisdom J. Rufus politely laughed, and the silvery voice
+of Beauty Phillips suddenly joined his own; whereupon J. Rufus, taking
+the hint, introduced Mr. Block to Miss Phillips and her mother. Mr.
+Block promptly sat down by them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve heard a lot about you,&#8221; he began, &#8220;but I&#8217;ve not been around to
+see <i>The Pink Canary</i> yet. I don&#8217;t go to the theater much.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must certainly see my second-act turn. I sure have got them
+going,&#8221; the Beauty asserted modestly. &#8220;What do you like in this race,
+Mr. Block?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t like anything,&#8221; he replied almost gruffly. &#8220;I never bet
+outside of my own stable.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re taking a small slice of Bologna,&#8221; she informed him. &#8220;I suppose
+he&#8217;s about the&mdash;the wurst of the race. Guess that&#8217;s bad, eh? I made
+that one up all by myself, at that. I think I&#8217;ll write a musical
+comedy next. But how do you like Bologna?&#8221; she hastily added, her own
+laugh freezing as she saw her feeble little joke passed by in
+perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You never can tell,&#8221; he replied evasively. &#8220;You see, Miss Phillips, I
+never give out a tip. If you bet on it and it don&#8217;t win you get sore
+against me. If I hand you a winner you&#8217;ll tell two or three people
+that are likely to beat me to it and break the price before I can get
+my own money down.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Beauty Phillips&#8217; wide eyes narrowed just a trifle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess it&#8217;s all the same,&#8221; remarked J. Rufus resignedly. &#8220;If you
+have a hoodoo over you you&#8217;ll lose anyhow. I&#8217;ve tried to pick &#8217;em
+forty ways from the ace. I&#8217;ve played with the dope and against it and
+lost both ways. I&#8217;ve played hunches and coppered hunches, and lost
+both ways. I&#8217;ve played hot information straight and reverse, and lost
+both ways. I&#8217;ve nosed into the paddock and made a lifetime hit with
+stable boys, jockeys, trainers, clockers and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>even owners, but every
+time they handed me a sure one I got burned. Any horse I bet on turns
+into a crawfish.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The saddling bell rang.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d better hurry if you want to get a bet on Sausage,&#8221; admonished
+the beautiful one, and J. Rufus, excusing himself, made his way down
+to the betting-shed, where he was affectionately known as The Big
+Pink, not only on account of his complexion but on account of the huge
+carnation Beauty Phillips pinned on him each day.</p>
+
+<p>At the first book he handed up three one-hundred-dollar bills.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A century each way on Bologna,&#8221; he directed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Welcome to our city!&#8221; greeted the red-haired man on the stool, and
+then to the ticket writer: &#8220;Twelve hundred to a hundred, five hundred
+to a hundred, and two hundred to a hundred on Bologna for The Big
+Pink. Johnnie, you will now rub prices on Bologna and make him
+fifteen, eight and three; then run around and tell the other boys that
+The Big Pink&#8217;s on Bologna, and it&#8217;s a pipe for the books at any odds.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford chuckled good-naturedly. In other days he would have
+called that bit of pleasantry by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>taking another hundred each way
+across, at the new odds, but now his funds were too low.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some of these days, Sunset,&#8221; he threatened the man on the stool,
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll win a bet on you and you&#8217;ll drop dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll die rich if your wad only holds out till then,&#8221; returned Sunset,
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>With but very little hope J. Rufus returned to the grand-stand, where
+royalty sat like a warm and drowsy garment upon Beauty Phillips; for
+Beauty was on the stage a queen, and outside of working-hours a
+princess. Jake Block was still there, and making himself agreeable to
+a degree that surprised even himself, and he was there yet when
+Bologna, true to form, came home contentedly following the field. He
+joined them again at the close of the sixth race, when Carnation, a
+horse which the Beauty had picked because of his name, was just nosed
+out of the money, and he walked with them down to the carriage gate.
+As Block seemed reluctant to leave, he was invited to ride into the
+city in the automobile J. Rufus had hired by the month, and accepted
+that invitation with alacrity. He also accepted their invitation to
+dinner, and during that meal he observed:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I think, Miss Phillips, I&#8217;ll go around and see <i>The Pink Canary</i>
+to-night, and after the show I&#8217;d like to have you and your mother and
+Wallingford take supper with me, if you have no other engagement.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; said Beauty Phillips, too eagerly for Wallingford&#8217;s entire
+comfort; and so it was settled.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford, although he had seen the show until it made him deathly
+weary, went along and sat with Block in a stage box. During one of the
+dull spots the horseman turned to his companion very suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This Beauty Phillips could carry an awful handicap and still take the
+Derby purse,&#8221; he announced. &#8220;She beats any filly of her hands and age
+I ever saw on a card.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She certainly does,&#8221; assented J. Rufus, suave without, but irritated
+within.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see you training around with her all through the meet. Steady
+company, I guess.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, we&#8217;re very good friends; that&#8217;s all,&#8221; replied Wallingford with
+such nonchalance as he could muster.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing in earnest, then?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Then I believe I will enter the handicap myself, that is if you don&#8217;t
+think you can haul down the purse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go in and win,&#8221; laughed J. Rufus, concealing his trace of
+self-humiliation. He had no especial interest in Beauty Phillips, but
+he did not exactly like to have her taken away from him. It was too
+much in evidence that he was a loser. However, he was distinctly &#8220;down
+and out&#8221; just now, for Beauty Phillips quite palpably exerted her
+fascinations in the direction of that box, and Jake Block was most
+obviously &#8220;hooked;&#8221; so much so that at supper he revealed his interest
+most unmistakably, and parted from them reluctantly at the curb,
+feeling silly but quite determined.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford made no allusion to Miss Phillips&#8217; capture of the
+horseman, even after they had reached the flat, where he had gained
+the rare privilege of calling, and where the Beauty&#8217;s &#8220;mother&#8221; always
+remained in the parlor with them, awake or asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Rather sheepishly, J. Rufus produced from his pocket a newspaper
+clipping of the following seductive advertisement, which he passed
+over to the Beauty:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Yesterday we slipped across, for the benefit of our happy
+New York and Brooklyn subscribers, that juicy watermelon,
+<i>Breezy</i>, a ten to one shot and the play on this section of
+hot dog was so strong it put a crimp in the bookies as deep
+as the water jump. To-morrow we have another lallapalooza
+at long odds that will waft under the wire and have the
+blanket on about the time the field is kicking dust at the
+barrier. This peacherino has been under cover throughout
+the meeting, but to-morrow it will be ripe and you want to
+get in on the killing.</p>
+
+<p>Will wire you the name of this pippin for five dollars;
+full service twenty dollars a week.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="smcap">National Clockers&#8217; Association.</span></span></p></div>
+
+<p>&#8220;I fell for this,&#8221; he explained, after she had read it with a
+sarcastic smile; &#8220;poked a fI&#8217;muth in a letter cold, and let &#8217;em have
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Beautiful One regarded him with pity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Honest, Pinky,&#8221; she commented, &#8220;your soft spot&#8217;s growing. If you
+don&#8217;t watch out the specialists&#8217;ll get you. Do you suppose that if
+these cheap touts had such hot info. as that, they&#8217;d peddle it out, in
+place of going down to the track and coming back with all the money in
+the world in their jeans?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure not,&#8221; said he patiently. &#8220;They don&#8217;t know any more about it than
+the men who write the form sheets; but we&#8217;ve tried everything from
+stable-dope <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>to dreaming numbers and can&#8217;t get one of them to run for
+us. So I&#8217;m taking a chance that the National Strong Arm Association
+might shut their eyes in the dark and happen to pass me the right name
+without meaning it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s some sense to that,&#8221; admitted the Beauty reflectively.
+&#8220;You&#8217;ll get the first wire to-morrow morning, won&#8217;t you? Just my luck.
+It&#8217;s matin&eacute;e day and I&#8217;d like to see you try it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right,&#8221; said J. Rufus. &#8220;I&#8217;ll have the money to show you as
+a surprise at dinner.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Beauty hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I&#8217;m engaged for dinner to-morrow,&#8221; she stated, half reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>He was silent a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Block? That means supper, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. You see, Jimmy, I&#8217;ve just got to give &#8217;em all a try-out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; he admitted. &#8220;But he won&#8217;t do. I&#8217;ll bet you a box of
+gloves against a box of cigars.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t bet you,&#8221; she replied, laughing. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got a hunch that I&#8217;d
+lose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<h3>WHEREIN THE BROADWAY QUARTET EVENS UP AN<br />
+OLD SCORE</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>t his hotel the next day, about noon, J. Rufus got the promised wire.
+It consisted of only one word: &#8220;Razzoo.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Alone, J. Rufus went out to the track, and on the race in which Razzoo
+was entered at average odds of ten to one, he got down six hundred
+dollars, reluctantly holding back, for his hotel bill, three hundred
+dollars&mdash;all he had in the world. Then he shut his eyes, and with
+large self-contempt waited for Razzoo to finish by lamplight. To his
+immense surprise Razzoo won by two lengths, and with a contented
+chuckle he went around to the various books and collected his
+winnings, handing to each bookmaker derogatory remarks calculated to
+destroy the previous <i>entente cordiale</i>.</p>
+
+<p>On his way out, puffed with huge joy and sitting alone in the big
+automobile, he was hailed by a familiar voice.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Well, well, well! Our old friend, J. Rufus!&#8221; exclaimed Harry Phelps,
+he of the natty clothes and the curly hair.</p>
+
+<p>With Mr. Phelps were Larry Teller and Billy Banting and Yap Pickins.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jump in,&#8221; invited J. Rufus with a commendable spirit, forgiving them
+cheerfully for having lost money to him, and, despite the growl of
+protest from lean Short-Card Larry, they invaded the tonneau.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must be hitting them up some, Wallingford,&#8221; observed Mr. Phelps
+with a trace of envy. &#8220;I know they&#8217;re not furnishing automobiles to
+losers these days.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m doing fairly well,&#8221; replied Wallingford loftily. &#8220;I cleaned
+&#8217;em up for six thousand to-day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The envy on the part of the four was almost audible.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What did you play?&#8221; asked Badger Billy, with the eager post-mortem
+interest of a loser.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only one horse in just one race,&#8221; explained Wallingford. &#8220;Razzoo.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Razzoo!&#8221; snorted Short-Card Larry. &#8220;Was you in on that assassination?
+Why, that goat hasn&#8217;t won a race since the day before Adam ate the
+apple, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>and the jockey he had on to-day couldn&#8217;t put up a good ride on
+a street car. How did you happen to land on it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Blandly Wallingford produced the telegram he had received that
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This wire,&#8221; he condescendingly explained, &#8220;is from the National
+Clockers&#8217; Association of Boston, Massachusetts, United States of
+America, who are charitable enough to pass out long-shot winners, at
+the mere bag-o&#8217;-shells service-price of five dollars per day or twenty
+per week.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They looked from the magic word &#8220;Razzoo&#8221; to the smiling face of J.
+Rufus more in sorrow than in anger.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And they happened to hand you a winner!&#8221; said the cadaverous Mr.
+Teller, folding the telegram dexterously with the long, lean fingers
+of one hand, and passing it back as if he hated to see it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Winner is right,&#8221; agreed J. Rufus. &#8220;I couldn&#8217;t pick &#8217;em any other
+way, and I took a chance on this game because it&#8217;s just as good a
+system as going to a clairvoyant or running the cards.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a short laugh from the raw-boned Mr. Pickins.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t suppose they&#8217;ll ever do it again,&#8221; he observed, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>&#8220;but I feel
+almost like taking a chance on it myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go to it,&#8221; advised J. Rufus heartily. &#8220;Go to it, and come home with
+something substantial in your pocket, like this,&#8221; and most brazenly,
+even in the face of what he knew of them, young Wallingford flaunted
+before their very eyes an assorted package of orange-colored
+bank-bills, well calculated to excite discord in this company. &#8220;Lovely
+little package of documents,&#8221; he said banteringly; &#8220;and I suppose you
+burglars are already figuring how you can chisel it away from me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They smiled wanly, and the smile of Larry Teller showed his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No man ever pets a hornet but once,&#8221; said Billy, the only one sturdy
+enough to voice his discomfiture.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford beamed over this tribute to his prowess.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, you get a split of it, anyhow,&#8221; he offered. &#8220;I&#8217;ll take you all
+to dinner, then afterward we&#8217;ll have a little game of stud poker if
+you like&mdash;with police interference barred.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They were about to decline this kind invitation when Short-Card Larry
+turned suddenly to him, with a gleam of the teeth which was almost a
+snarl.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll take you,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Just a little friendly game for small
+stakes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>J. Rufus elevated his eyebrows a trifle, but smiled. Inwardly he felt
+perfectly competent to protect himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fine business,&#8221; he assented. &#8220;Suppose we have dinner in my rooms. I&#8217;m
+beginning to get them educated at my hotel.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the hotel he stopped for a moment at the curb to give his chauffeur
+some instructions, while the other four awaited him on the steps.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;d you come to fall for this stud game, Larry?&#8221; inquired Phelps.
+&#8220;I can&#8217;t see poker merely for health, and this Willy Wisdom won&#8217;t call
+any raise of over two dollars when he&#8217;s playing with us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know he won&#8217;t,&#8221; snapped Larry, setting his jaws savagely, &#8220;but
+we&#8217;re going to get his money just the same. Billy, you break away and
+run down to Joe&#8217;s drug-store for the K.O.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They all grinned, with the light of admiration dawning in their eyes
+for Larry Teller. &#8220;K.O.&#8221; was cipher for &#8220;knock-out drops,&#8221; a pleasant
+little decoction guaranteed to put a victim into fathomless slumber,
+but not to kill him if his heart was right.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;How long will it be until dinner&#8217;s ready, Wallingford?&#8221; asked Billy,
+looking at his watch as J. Rufus came up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, about an hour, I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good,&#8221; said Billy. &#8220;I&#8217;ll just have time. I have to go get some money
+that a fellow promised me, and if I don&#8217;t see him to-night I may not
+see him at all. Besides, I&#8217;ll probably need it if you play your usual
+game.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing doing,&#8221; replied Wallingford. &#8220;I only want to yammer you
+fellows out of a hundred apiece, and the game will be as quiet as a
+peddler&#8217;s pup.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>J. Rufus conducted the others into the sitting-room of his suite and
+sent for a waiter. There was never any point lacking in Wallingford&#8217;s
+hospitality, and by the time Billy came back he was ready to serve
+them a dinner that was worth discussing. The dinner despatched, he had
+the table cleared and brought out cards and chips. It was a quiet,
+comfortable game for nearly an hour, with very mild betting and plenty
+to drink. It was during the fifth bottle of wine, dating from the
+beginning of the dinner, that Short-Card Larry, by a dexterous
+accident, pitched Wallingford&#8217;s stack of chips on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>floor with a
+toss of the deck. Amid the profuse apologies of Larry, Mr. Phelps, who
+was at Wallingford&#8217;s left, stooped down to help that gentleman pick up
+his chips, and in that moment Badger Billy quietly emptied the
+colorless contents of a tiny vial in Wallingford&#8217;s glass. J. Rufus
+never was able to remember what happened after that.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Silk pajama clad, but still wearing portions of his day attire, he
+awoke next day with a headache, and a tongue that felt like a
+shredded-wheat biscuit. He held his head very level to keep the leaden
+weight in the top of it from sliding around and bumping his skull, and
+opened the swollen slits that did him painful duty for eyelids wide
+enough to let him find the telephone, through which instrument he
+ordered a silver-fizz. Of the butler who brought it he asked what time
+it was.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One o&#8217;clock, sir,&#8221; replied the butler with the utmost gravity.</p>
+
+<p>One o&#8217;clock! J. Rufus pondered the matter slowly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Morning or afternoon,&#8221; he huskily asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Afternoon, sir,&#8221; and this time the butler permitted himself the
+slightest trace of a smile as he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>noted the electric lights, still
+blazing in sickly defiance of the bright sunshine which crept in
+around the edges of the double blinds.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh!&#8221; grunted J. Rufus, and pondered more.</p>
+
+<p>Half dozing, he stood, glass in hand, for full five minutes, while the
+butler, with a lively appreciation of tips past and to come, stood
+patiently holding his little silver tray, with check and pencil
+waiting for the signature. At the expiration of that time, however,
+the butler coughed once, gently; once, normally; the third time very
+loudly. These means failing, he dropped the tray clattering to the
+floor, and with a cheerful &#8220;Beg your pardon, sir,&#8221; picked it up. Not
+knowing that he had been asleep again, Wallingford took a sip of the
+refreshing drink and walked across to a garment which lay upon the
+chair, feeling through the pockets one after the other. In one pocket
+there was a little silver, but in the others nothing. He gave a coin
+to the butler and signed the check in deep thoughtfulness, then sat
+down heavily and dozed another fifteen minutes. Awakening, he found
+the glass at his hand on the serving-bench, and drank about a fourth
+of the contents very slowly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spiked!&#8221; he groaned aloud.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p><p>He had good reason to believe that his wine had been &#8220;doctored,&#8221; for
+never before had anything he drank affected him like this. Another
+glance at the garment of barren pockets reminded him to look about for
+the coat and vest he had worn the night before. They were not visible
+in his bedroom, and, still carrying the glass of life-saving mixture
+with him, he made his way into his sitting-room and surveyed the
+wreck. On the table was a confusion of cards and chips, and around its
+edge stood five champagne glasses, two of them empty, two half full,
+one full. Against the wall stood a row of four empty quart bottles. In
+an ice pail, filled now with but tepid water, there reposed a fifth
+bottle, neck downward. Five chairs were grouped unevenly about the
+table, one of them overturned and the others left at random where they
+had been pushed back. The lights here, also, were still burning.
+Heaped on a chair in the corner were the coat and vest he sought, and
+he went through their pockets methodically, reaching first for his
+wallet. It was perfectly clean inside. In one of the vest-pockets he
+found a soiled, very much crumpled two-dollar bill, and the first
+stiff smile of his waking stretched his lips.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I wonder how they overlooked this?&#8221; he questioned.</p>
+
+<p>Again his eyes turned musingly to those five empty bottles, and again
+the conviction was borne in upon him that the wine had been drugged.
+Under no circumstances could his share, even an unequal share, of five
+bottles of champagne among five persons have worked this havoc in him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Spiked,&#8221; he concluded again in a tone of resignation. &#8220;At last they
+got to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The silver-fizz was flat now, but every sip of it was nevertheless
+full of reviving grace, and he sat in the big leather rocker to think
+things over. As he did so his eye caught something that made him start
+from his chair so suddenly that he had to put both hands to his head.
+Under the table was a bit of light orange paper. A fifty-dollar bill!
+In that moment&mdash;that is, after he had painfully stooped down to get it
+and had smoothed it out to assure himself that it was real&mdash;this
+beautifully printed government certificate looked to him about the
+size of a piano cover. An instant before, disaster had stared him in
+the face. This was but Thursday morning, and, having paid his hotel
+bill on Monday, he had the balance of the week to go on; but for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>that
+week he would have been chained to this hotel. Now he was foot-loose,
+now he was free, and his first thought was of his only possible
+resource, Blackie Daw, in Boston!</p>
+
+<p>It took two hours of severe labor on the part of a valet, two
+bell-boys and a barber to turn the Wallingford wreck into his usual
+well-groomed self, but the hour of sailing saw him somnolently, but
+safely ensconced on a Boston packet.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BROADWAY QUARTET CONTINUES TO TAKE<br />
+WALLINGFORD&#8217;S MONEY</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">B</span>lackie Daw&#8217;s most recent Boston address had been: &#8220;Yellow Streak
+Mining Company, Seven Hundred and Ten Marabon Building,&#8221; and yet when
+J. Rufus paused before number seven hundred and ten of that building
+he found its glass door painted with the sign of the National
+Clockers&#8217; Association. Worried by the fact that Blackie had moved, yet
+struck by the peculiar coincidence of his place being occupied by the
+concern that had given him the tip on Razzoo, he walked into the
+office to inquire the whereabouts of his friend. He found three girls
+at a long table, slitting open huge piles of envelopes and removing
+from them money, postal orders and checks&mdash;mostly money, for the sort
+of people who patronized the National Clockers&#8217; Association were quite
+willing to &#8220;take a chance&#8221; on a five- or a twenty-dollar bill in the
+mails. Behind <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>a newspaper, in a big leather chair near a flat-top
+mahogany desk, with his feet conveniently elevated on the
+waste-basket, sat a gentleman who, when he moved the paper aside to
+see whom his visitor might be, proved to be Blackie Daw himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, none other than the friend of me childhood!&#8221; exclaimed
+Blackie, springing to his feet and extending his hand. &#8220;What brings
+you here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Broke,&#8221; replied Wallingford briefly. &#8220;They cleaned me. Got any
+money?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Daw opened the top drawer of his desk, and it proved to be nearly
+full of bills, thrown loosely in, with no attempt at order or sorting.
+&#8220;Money&#8217;s the cheapest thing in Boston,&#8221; he announced, waving his hand
+carelessly over the contents of the drawer. &#8220;Help yourself, old man.
+The New York mail will bring in plenty more. They&#8217;ve had two winners
+there this week, and when it does fall for anything, N&#8217;Yawk&#8217;s the
+biggest yap town on earth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford, having drawn up a chair with alacrity, was already
+sorting bills, smoothing them out and counting them off in hundreds.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And all on pure charity&mdash;picking out winning horses for your
+customers!&#8221; laughed Wallingford. &#8220;This is a real gold mine you&#8217;ve hit
+at last.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Pretty good,&#8221; agreed Blackie. &#8220;I&#8217;d have enough to start a mint of my
+own if I didn&#8217;t lose so much playing the races.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t play your own tips, I hope,&#8221; expostulated Wallingford,
+pausing to inspect a tattered bill.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should say not,&#8221; returned Daw with emphasis. &#8220;If I did that I&#8217;d
+have to play every horse in every race. You see, every day I wire the
+name of one horse to all my subscribers in Philadelphia, another to
+Baltimore, another to Washington, and so on down the list. One of
+those horses has to win. Suppose I pick out the horse Roller Skate for
+Philadelphia. Well, if Roller skates home that day I advertise in the
+Philadelphia papers the next morning, and, besides that, every
+fall-easy that got the tip advertises me to some of his friends, and
+they all spike themselves to send in money for the dope. Oh, it&#8217;s a
+great game, all right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s got yegging frazzled to a pulp,&#8221; agreed Wallingford. &#8220;But I
+oughtn&#8217;t to yell police. I got the lucky word my first time out. I
+played Razzoo and cleaned up six thousand dollars on the strength of
+your wire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go on!&#8221; returned Blackie delightedly. &#8220;You <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>don&#8217;t mean to say you&#8217;re
+sorting some of your own money there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I sure am,&#8221; laughed Wallingford, picking up a five-dollar bill. &#8220;I
+think this must be it. What&#8217;s the New York horse to-day?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Blackie consulted a list that lay on his desk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whipsaw,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whipsaw! By George, Blackie, if there&#8217;s any one thing I&#8217;d like to do,
+it&#8217;d be to whipsaw some friends of yours on Broadway.&#8221; Whereupon he
+told Blackie, with much picturesque embellishment, just how Messrs.
+Phelps, Teller, Banting and Pickins had managed to annex the Razzoo
+money.</p>
+
+<p>Blackie enjoyed that recital very much.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Broadway Syndicate is still on the job,&#8221; he commented. &#8220;Well, J.
+Rufus, let this teach you how to take a joke next time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not saying a word,&#8221; replied Wallingford. &#8220;Any time I let a
+kindergarten crowd like that work a trick on me that was invented
+right after Noah discovered spoiled grape juice, I owe myself a month
+in jail. But watch me. I&#8217;ll make moccasins out of their hides, all
+right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go right ahead, old man, and see if I care,&#8221; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>consented Blackie.
+&#8220;Slam the harpoon into them and twist it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will,&#8221; asserted Wallingford confidently. &#8220;I don&#8217;t like them because
+they&#8217;re grouches; I don&#8217;t like them because they&#8217;re cheap; I don&#8217;t
+like their names, nor their faces, nor the town they live in. Making
+money in New York&#8217;s too much like sixteen hungry bulldogs to one bone.
+The best dog gets it, but he finishes too weak for an appetite. What
+kind of a horse is this Whipsaw you&#8217;re sending out to-day?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. Where&#8217;s the dope on Whipsaw, Tillie?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A girl with a freckled face and a keen eye and a saucy air went over
+to the filing-case and searched out a piece of cardboard a foot
+square. Blackie glanced over it with an experienced eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maiden,&#8221; said he; &#8220;been in four races, and the best he ever did was
+fourth in a bunch of goats that only ambled all the way around the
+track because that was the only way they could get back to the
+stable.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The mail carrier just then came in with a huge bundle of letters.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;New York mail,&#8221; observed Blackie. &#8220;After that Razzoo thing it ought
+to be rich pickings.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pickings!&#8221; exclaimed J. Rufus, struck by a sudden idea. &#8220;See if
+Pickins or Teller or any of that crowd have contributed. Pickins said
+they were going to try it out, just to see if lightning could really
+strike twice in the same place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Blackie wrote a number of names on a slip of paper and handed it to
+Tillie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look for these names in the mail,&#8221; he directed, &#8220;and if a
+subscription comes in from any one of them let me know it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford had idly picked up the card containing Whipsaw&#8217;s record.</p>
+
+<p>It was a most accurate typewritten sheet, giving age, pedigree,
+description and detailed action in every race; but the point that
+caught Wallingford&#8217;s eye was the name of the owner.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One of Jake Block&#8217;s horses, by George!&#8221; he said, and fell into silent
+musing from which he was interrupted by the girl, who was laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s your party,&#8221; she said to Blackie, handing him an envelope.
+&#8220;This twenty&#8217;s in it, and I think it&#8217;s bad money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p><p>Blackie passed the bill to Wallingford, who slipped it through
+experienced fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You couldn&#8217;t pass this one on an organ-grinder&#8217;s monkey,&#8221; he said,
+chuckling. &#8220;But that&#8217;s all right; just put &#8217;em on the wiring-list,
+anyhow. Make &#8217;em lose their money. It&#8217;s the only way you can get
+even.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked to Blackie for instructions, and he nodded his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who sent it?&#8221; asked Wallingford idly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Peters is the name signed here,&#8221; replied Blackie. &#8220;That means Harry
+Phelps. I gave Tillie all the aliases this bunch of crimples carry
+around with them, knowing they&#8217;d probably send it in that way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford nodded comprehendingly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;d rather do even the square thing crooked. Well, you know what
+to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll send them special picks,&#8221; declared Blackie with a grin. &#8220;Nothing
+but a list of crabs that would come in third in a two-horse race. But
+come on outside; we&#8217;re too far from cracked ice,&#8221; and grabbing an
+uncounted handful of bills from the drawer of his desk, Blackie
+stuffed them in his pocket and led the way out.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p><p>It was at luncheon that Blackie made his first protest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter with you, J. Rufus?&#8221; he demanded. &#8220;I never saw you
+insult food and drink before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m thinking,&#8221; returned Wallingford solemnly. &#8220;I hate to do it, for
+it interferes with my appetite; but here&#8217;s a case where I must. I have
+got to put one over on that Broadway bunch or lose my self-respect.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>That evening, on the way down to the boat, their feet cocked
+comfortably on the opposite seat of a cab, Wallingford formulated a
+more or less vague plan.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tell you what you do, Blackie,&#8221; he directed; &#8220;you send to Phelps and
+to me, until I give you the word, a daily tip on sure losers. In the
+meantime, bank all your money, and don&#8217;t make a bet on any race.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What are you going to do?&#8221; asked Blackie curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Land a sure winner for us and a loser for the Broadway Syndicate.
+Hold yourself ready when I wire you to take a quick train for my
+hotel, loaded down with all the money you can grab together.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Fine!&#8221; returned Blackie. &#8220;You wire me that it&#8217;s all fixed, and when I
+start for New York there&#8217;ll be a financial stringency in Boston.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Returning to New York, Wallingford caught Beauty Phillips at breakfast
+about noon, and in a most charming morning gown, for the Beauty was
+consistent enough to be neat even when there was none but &#8220;mother&#8221; to
+see.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Mr. Mark, from Easyville,&#8221; she hailed him. &#8220;I heard all about
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You did!&#8221; he demanded, surprised. &#8220;Who told you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Phelps and Banting,&#8221; she said. &#8220;They had the nerve to come up in the
+grand-stand yesterday and tell Mr. Block and me all about it; told me
+how much you won and how they got it away from you at poker.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did they tell you they put knock-out drops in my wine?&#8221; demanded
+Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They didn&#8217;t do that!&#8221; she protested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Exactly what they did. Whether we played poker afterward, I don&#8217;t
+know. I&#8217;d just as soon as not believe they went through my pockets.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t put it past them a bit,&#8221; she agreed, and then her
+indignation began to grow. &#8220;Say, ain&#8217;t <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>it a shame! Now, if I hadn&#8217;t
+gone out to dinner with Mr. Block, you&#8217;d have been with me. I&#8217;d have
+had that lovely diamond brooch you promised me out of your first
+winnings, and we&#8217;d have had all the rest of it to bet with for a few
+days. Honest, Pinky, I feel as if it were my fault!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you worry about that,&#8221; Wallingford cordially reassured her. &#8220;It
+was my own fault; but I wasn&#8217;t looking for anything worse than a knife
+in my back or a piece of lead pipe behind the ear. There&#8217;s no use in
+crying over spilled milk. The thing to do now is to get even, and I
+want you to help me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you mix in, Beauty,&#8221; admonished the hired mother, but the
+Beauty was thoughtful for a while. &#8220;Mother&#8221; was there to give good
+advice, but the Beauty only took it if she liked it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I really can&#8217;t afford it,&#8221; she said, by and by; &#8220;but I&#8217;ve got some
+principles about me, and I don&#8217;t like to see a good sport like you
+take a rough dose from a lot of cheaps like them; so you show me how
+and I&#8217;ll mix in just this once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford hesitated in turn.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you like Block?&#8221; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>Beauty Phillips sniffed her dainty nose in disdain.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;He won&#8217;t do,&#8221; she announced with decision. &#8220;I&#8217;ve found out all about
+him. He&#8217;s got enough money to star me in a show of my own for the next
+ten years, but he&#8217;s not furnished with the brand of manners I like.
+I&#8217;ll never marry a man I can&#8217;t stand. I&#8217;ve got a <i>few</i> principles
+about me! Why, yesterday he tried to treat me real lovely, but do you
+know, he wouldn&#8217;t give me the name of a horse, even when he put a
+hundred down for me in the third race? There I sat, with a string of
+&#8217;em just prancing around the track, and not one to pull for. Then
+after the race is over he comes and tosses me five hundred dollars. &#8216;I
+got you four to one on the winner,&#8217; says he. Why, it was just like
+<i>giving me money</i>! Jimmy, I&#8217;m going out to dinner with him to-night,
+then I&#8217;m going to turn him back into the paddock, and you can pal
+around with me again until I find a man with plenty of money that I
+could really love.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t spill the beans,&#8221; advised Wallingford hastily. &#8220;Block thinks
+you&#8217;re about the maple custard, don&#8217;t he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s crazy about me,&#8221; confessed the Beauty complacently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fine work. Well, just you string him along till <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>he gives you the
+name of a sure winner in advance; jolly it out of him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not on your three-sheet litho!&#8221; negatived the Beauty. &#8220;I never yet
+worked one mash against another. I guess you&#8217;d expect to play even on
+that tip, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure, we&#8217;ll play it,&#8221; admitted Wallingford; &#8220;but better than that,
+I&#8217;ll shred this Harry Phelps crowd so clean they&#8217;ll have to borrow car
+fare.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She thought on this possibility with sparkling eyes. She was against
+the &#8220;Phelps crowd&#8221; on principle. Also&mdash;well, Wallingford had always
+been a perfect gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you sure you can do it?&#8221; she wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all framed up,&#8221; he asserted confidently; &#8220;all I want is the name
+of that winner.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Beauty considered the matter seriously, and in the end silently
+shook hands with him. The <i>pro tem</i>. Mrs. Phillips sniffed.</p>
+
+<p>This was on a Saturday, a matin&eacute;e day, and Wallingford went out to the
+track alone, contenting himself with extremely small bets, merely to
+keep his interest alive. The day&#8217;s racing was half over before he ran
+across the Broadway Syndicate. They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>were heartily glad to see him.
+They greeted him with even effervescent joy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where have you been, J. Rufus?&#8221; asked Phelps. &#8220;We were looking for
+you all over yesterday. We thought sure you&#8217;d be out at the track
+playing that Boston Gouge Company&#8217;s tips.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your dear chum was in the country, resting up,&#8221; replied Wallingford,
+with matter-of-fact cheerfulness. &#8220;By George, I never had wine put me
+down and out so in my life&#8221;&mdash;whereat the cadaverous Short-Card Larry
+could not repress a wink for the benefit of Yap Pickins. &#8220;What was the
+good-thing they wired yesterday?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whipsaw!&#8221; scorned Phelps. &#8220;Say, do you see that horse out
+there?&#8221;&mdash;and he pointed to a selling-plater, up at the head of the
+stretch, which was being warmed up by a stable-boy. &#8220;Well, that&#8217;s
+Whipsaw, just coming in from yesterday&#8217;s last race.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re bound, you know, to land on a dead one once in a while,&#8221; he
+grunted; &#8220;but I&#8217;m strong for their game, just the same. You remember
+what that Razzoo thing that they tipped off did for me the other day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; admitted Phelps with a rising inflection <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>and a meaning grin.
+&#8220;Nice money you won on him. It spends well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Enjoy yourselves,&#8221; invited Wallingford cordially. &#8220;I&#8217;ve no kick
+coming. I&#8217;m through with stud poker till they quit playing it with a
+hole-card.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t blame you,&#8221; agreed Short-Card Larry solemnly. &#8220;Anybody that
+would bet a four-flush against two aces in sight, the way you did when
+Billy won that three-thousand-dollar pot from you, ought never to play
+anything stronger than ping-pong for the cigarettes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford nodded, with the best brand of suavity he could muster
+under the irritating circumstances.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose I did play like a man expecting his wife to telephone,&#8221; he
+admitted. &#8220;Excuse me a minute; I want to get a bet down on this race.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whom do you like?&#8221; asked Pickins.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rosey S.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The four began to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the hot Boston tip,&#8221; gasped Phelps. &#8220;Say, Wallingford, don&#8217;t
+give your money to the Mets. Let us make a book for you on that
+skate.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re on,&#8221; agreed J. Rufus, delighted that the proposition should
+come from them, for he had been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>edging in that direction himself.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll squander a hundred on the goat at the first odds we see.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They went into the betting-shed. Rosey S. was quoted at six to one.
+Even as they looked the price was rubbed, and ten to one was chalked
+in its place. The laughter of the quartet was long and loud as they
+pulled money from their pockets.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The first odds goes, Big Pink,&#8221; Banting reminded him.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford produced his hundred dollars, and quietly noted that the
+eyes of the quartet glistened as they saw the size of the roll from
+which he extracted it. They had not been prepared to find that he
+still had plenty of money. Jake Block passed near them, and
+Wallingford hailed him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hold stakes for us, Jake, on a little private bet?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure thing,&#8221; acquiesced Jake. &#8220;What is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;These fellows are trying to win out dinner-money on me. They&#8217;re
+giving me six hundred to one against Rosey S.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Block glanced up at the board and noted the increased odds, but it was
+no part of his policy to interfere in anything.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; he said, taking the seven hundred dollars <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>and stuffing
+the money in his pocket. &#8220;You don&#8217;t want to lay a little more, do you,
+at that odds?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; declined Wallingford. &#8220;I&#8217;m unlucky when I press a bet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Rosey S. put up a very good race for place, but dropped back in the
+finish to a chorus of comforting observations from the quartet, who,
+to make matters more aggravating, had played the winner for place at a
+good price.</p>
+
+<p>Jake Block came to them right after the race and handed over the
+money. He was evidently in a great hurry. Wallingford started to talk
+to him, but Block moved off rapidly, and it dawned upon J. Rufus that
+the horseman wanted to &#8220;shake&#8221; him so as not to have to invite him to
+dinner with himself and Beauty Phillips.</p>
+
+<p>Sunday morning he went around to that discreet young lady&#8217;s flat for
+breakfast, by appointment. &#8220;Mrs. Phillips&#8221; met him with unusual
+warmth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been missing you,&#8221; she stated with belated remembrance of
+certain generous gifts. &#8220;Say,&#8221; she added with sudden indignation, &#8220;you
+may have my share of Block for two peanuts. What do you suppose he
+did? Offered me five dollars to boost him with Beauty. <i>Five
+dollars!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;The cheap skate!&#8221; exclaimed Wallingford sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>The Beauty came in and greeted him with a flush of pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I got it, all right. The horse runs in the fourth
+race Friday, and its name is Whipsaw.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whipsaw!&#8221; exclaimed Wallingford. &#8220;He&#8217;s stringing you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, he isn&#8217;t,&#8221; she declared positively. &#8220;It was one o&#8217;clock last
+night before I got him thawed out enough to give up, and I had to let
+him hold my hand, at that,&#8221; and she rubbed that hand vigorously as if
+it still had some stain upon it. &#8220;He told me all about the horse. He
+says it&#8217;s the one good thing he&#8217;s going to uncover for this meeting.
+He tried Whipsaw out on his own breeding-farm down in Kentucky,
+clocking him twice a week, and he says the nag can beat anything on
+this track. Block&#8217;s been breaking him to run real races, entering
+against a lot of selling-platers, with instructions to an iron-armed
+jockey to hold in so as to get a long price. Friday he intends to send
+the horse in to win and expects to get big odds. I&#8217;m glad it&#8217;s over
+with. We promised to go out to Claremont this afternoon with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>Block,
+but that settles him. To-morrow I&#8217;m going out with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>J. Rufus shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, you mustn&#8217;t,&#8221; he insisted. &#8220;You must string this boy along till
+after the race Friday. He might change his mind or scratch the horse
+or something, but if he knows you have a heavy bet down, and he&#8217;s
+still with you, he&#8217;ll go through with the program.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t do it,&#8221; she protested.</p>
+
+<p>He turned to her slowly, took both her hands, and gazed into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you can, Beauty,&#8221; he said. &#8220;We&#8217;ve been good pals up to now, and
+this is the last thing I&#8217;ll ever ask of you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him a moment with heightening color, then she dropped
+her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Honest, Pinky,&#8221; she confessed, &#8220;sometimes I do wish you had a lot of
+money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<h3>IN WHICH WALLINGFORD AND BLACKIE DAW ENJOY<br />
+THEMSELVES</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">O</span>n Monday, nearing noon, Wallingford dropped into a flashy caf&eacute; just
+off Broadway, where he knew he would be bound to find some one of his
+quartet. He found Short-Card Larry there alone, his long, thin fingers
+clasped around a glass of buttermilk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Wallingford,&#8221; he said, grinning. &#8220;Going out to the track
+to-day?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not going to miss a race till the meeting closes,&#8221; asserted
+Wallingford. &#8220;I&#8217;ve a good one to-day that I&#8217;m going to send in a
+couple of hundred on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221; asked Larry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Governor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Governor!&#8221; snorted Larry. &#8220;Who&#8217;s in the race with him?&#8221; He drew a
+paper to him and turned to the entries. &#8220;Why,&#8221; he protested, &#8220;there
+isn&#8217;t a plug in that race that can&#8217;t come back to hunt him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right,&#8221; said Wallingford. &#8220;I&#8217;m for the National Clockers&#8217;
+Association, and I&#8217;m going to play their picks straight through.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s a match,&#8221; offered Larry scornfully. &#8220;Set fire to your money
+and save yourself the trouble of the trip.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe you&#8217;d like to save it from the flames. What odds will you give
+me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This being an entirely different proposition, Larry began to think
+much better of the horse.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Five to one,&#8221; he finally decided, after studying over the entries
+again. &#8220;Don&#8217;t know whether that&#8217;s the track odds or not. But you can
+take it or leave it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll take it,&#8221; agreed Wallingford, and tossed his money on the bar.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Teller drew a check-book from his pocket, and Wallingford,
+glancing at the top of the stub as Larry filled out the blank for a
+thousand, noted with satisfaction the splendid balance that was there.
+Evidently the gang was well in funds. They had, no doubt, been quite
+busy of late.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course you&#8217;ll cash that,&#8221; requested Wallingford, not so much on
+account of this particular bet as to establish a precedent.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; agreed Teller; &#8220;although I&#8217;ll only have to deposit it again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m betting the two hundred you don&#8217;t, remember,&#8221; said Wallingford,
+and they signed a memorandum of the bet, which they deposited with the
+rock-jawed proprietor, after that never-smiling gentleman had
+nonchalantly opened his safe and cashed Larry&#8217;s check.</p>
+
+<p>On Tuesday morning, Governor having lost and Short-Card Larry having
+imprudently exulted to his friends over the two-hundred-dollar
+winning, Mr. Teller came around to Wallingford&#8217;s hotel with his pocket
+full of money to find there Badger Billy and Mr. Phelps, both of whom
+had come on similar business.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose you got his coin on to-day&#8217;s sure thing,&#8221; observed Larry
+with a scowl, he being one to whom a bad temper came naturally.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Three hundred of it,&#8221; said fat Badger Billy triumphantly. &#8220;To-day he
+has a piece of Brie <i>fromage</i> by the name of Handicass.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Which ought to be called Handcase,&#8221; supplemented Phelps, and the two
+threw back their heads and roared. &#8220;The cheese is expected to skipper
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>home about the time the crowd realizes they&#8217;re off.&#8221; And they all
+enjoyed themselves in contemplation of what was going to happen to
+Handicass.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Got any more?&#8221; demanded Larry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not this morning,&#8221; returned Wallingford, accepting his r&ocirc;le of
+derided &#8220;come-on&#8221; with smiling fortitude. &#8220;I want to save some for
+to-morrow&#8217;s bet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; explained Billy Banting, purring up his red cheeks with
+laughter, &#8220;Wallingford&#8217;s playing a system of progression. He hikes the
+bet every day, expecting to play even in the finish.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; said Larry, grinning; &#8220;but don&#8217;t you fellows hook all this
+easy money. Count me in for a piece of to-morrow&#8217;s bet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He had a chance. Handicass ran to consistent form with all the other
+&#8220;picks&#8221;&mdash;except the one accident, Razzoo&mdash;of the National Clockers&#8217;
+Association, and on Wednesday, Wallingford bet four hundred on the
+&#8220;information&#8221; which that concern wired to him and to Mr. Phelps. On
+that day, too, having received at breakfast-time a report from Beauty
+Phillips that the Whipsaw horse was still &#8220;meant,&#8221; he wrote careful
+instructions to Blackie Daw, then held his thumbs and crossed his
+fingers and touched wood and looked at the moon over the proper
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>shoulder, and did various other things to keep Fate from sending home
+one of those tips as an accidental winner on either Wednesday or
+Thursday.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing of that disastrous sort happened, however, and his pet
+enemies, the quartet, having won from J. Rufus on Saturday, Monday,
+Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, had by this time pooled their
+interests and constituted themselves Wallingford&#8217;s regular bookmaking
+syndicate. Their only fear on Friday morning, after Phelps had
+received his wire from Boston, was that Wallingford would not care to
+bet that day, since the horse which had been given out was that
+notorious tail-ender, Whipsaw! They invaded J. Rufus&#8217; apartments as
+soon as they got the wire, and were relieved to find that Wallingford
+was still firm in his allegiance to the National Clockers&#8217;
+Association.</p>
+
+<p>They were a little surprised, however, to find Blackie Daw at
+breakfast with Wallingford, but they greeted that old comrade with
+great cordiality, coupled with an inward fear that he might interfere
+with their designs upon Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You haven&#8217;t been making a book against J. Rufus on the day&#8217;s races,
+have you?&#8221; inquired Phelps.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Not yet,&#8221; said Blackie, laughing, &#8220;but I&#8217;m willing. What&#8217;s he on?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whipsaw,&#8221; interposed Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>Blackie laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know the horse,&#8221; he said, &#8220;but I just seem to remember that
+he&#8217;s the joke of the track.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; explained Larry; &#8220;he&#8217;s too painful to be a joke.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What odds do you expect to get, Wallingford?&#8221; asked Blackie, reaching
+for his wallet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hold on a minute,&#8221; said Phelps hastily. &#8220;You don&#8217;t want to butt in on
+this, Daw. We&#8217;ve been making book for J. Rufus all week, and it&#8217;s our
+money. You hold stakes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you worry,&#8221; snapped Wallingford, suddenly displaying temper;
+&#8220;there will be enough to go around. I&#8217;ll cover every cent you four
+have or can get,&#8221; and he pushed his chair back from the table. &#8220;This
+is my last day in the racing game, and I&#8217;m going to plunge on Whipsaw.
+I&#8217;ve turned into cash every resource I had in the world. I&#8217;ve even
+soaked my diamonds and watch to get more. Now come on and cover my
+coin.&#8221; From his pocket he produced a thick bundle of bills of large
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>denomination. &#8220;What odds do I get? The last time Whipsaw was in a
+race he opened at twelve to one and I ought to get fifteen at least
+to-day. Here&#8217;s a thousand at that odds.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not on your life!&#8221; said Short-Card Larry. &#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t put up fifteen
+thousand to win one on any game.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;ll you give me, then? Come on for this easy money. Give me ten?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No, they would not give him ten.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Give me eight?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They hesitated. He immediately slid the money in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You fellows are kidding. You don&#8217;t want to make book for me. I&#8217;ll
+take this coin out to the track and get it down at the long odds.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His display of contemptuous anger decided them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll take my share,&#8221; asserted Short-Card Larry, he of the quick
+temper, and among them the four made up the money to cover
+Wallingford&#8217;s bet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s the stakes, Blackie,&#8221; said Wallingford, passing over the money
+toward him. &#8220;You&#8217;re all willing he should hold the money?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They were. They knew Blackie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Moreover,&#8221; observed Yap Pickins meaningly, &#8220;we&#8217;ll keep close to him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s another thousand that you can cover at five to one,&#8221; offered
+Wallingford, counting out the money.</p>
+
+<p>Now they were as eager as he.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll take you,&#8221; said Teller, &#8220;but I&#8217;ll have to go out and get more
+mezuma.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right. Bring all you can scrape together and I&#8217;ll cover the
+balance of it at two to one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For just one moment they were suspicious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look here,&#8221; said Billy Banting, &#8220;do you know something about this
+horse?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If I did I wouldn&#8217;t tell. Don&#8217;t you know that I can get from fifteen
+to twenty at the track? Why do you suppose I want to make such a
+sucker bet as this? It&#8217;s because I&#8217;d rather have your money than
+anybody else&#8217;s; because I want to <i>break</i> you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He was fairly trembling with simulated anger now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If that&#8217;s the case you&#8217;ll be accommodated,&#8221; said Teller with an oath.
+&#8220;Come on, boys; we&#8217;ll bring up a chunk of money that&#8217;ll stop all this
+four-flush conversation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Phelps, having already &#8220;produced to his limit,&#8221; stayed with
+Wallingford while the others went out. First of all, they dropped in
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>at a quiet pool-room where they were known, and made inquiries about
+Whipsaw. They were answered by a laugh, and an offer to &#8220;take them on
+for all they wanted at their own odds,&#8221; and, reassured, they
+scattered, to raise all the money they could. They returned in the
+course of an hour and counted down a sum larger than Wallingford had
+thought the four of them could control. He was to find out later that
+they had not only converted their bank accounts and all their other
+holdings into currency, but had borrowed all their credit would stand
+wherever they were known. Wallingford, covering their first five
+thousand with one, calmly counted out an amount equal to one-half of
+all the rest they had put down, passed it over to Blackie to hold,
+then flaunted more money in their faces.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is at evens if you can scrape up any more,&#8221; he offered
+sneeringly. &#8220;Go soak your jewelry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Before making that suggestion he had noted the absence of Larry&#8217;s ring
+and of Billy&#8217;s studded watch-charm. Phelps was the only one who still
+wore anything convertible, a loud cravat-pin, an emerald, set with
+diamonds.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Give you two hundred against your pin,&#8221; said he to Phelps, and the
+latter promptly took the bet.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Are you all in?&#8221; asked Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>They promptly acknowledged that they were &#8220;all in.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right, then; we&#8217;ll have a drink and go out to the track. You&#8217;ll
+want to see this race, <i>because I win</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They were naturally contemptuous of this view, even hilariously
+contemptuous, and they offered to lend Wallingford money enough, after
+the race, &#8220;to sneak out of town and hide.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>While they were taking the parting drink Blackie Daw slipped into
+Wallingford&#8217;s bedroom for just one moment &#8220;to get a handkerchief.&#8221;
+There he found, mopping his brow, a short, thick-set chap known as
+Shorty Hampton, a perfectly reliable and discreet betting
+commissioner.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was just goin&#8217; to duck,&#8221; growled Shorty in a gruff whisper. &#8220;I&#8217;ve
+got two or three other parties to see. I&#8217;ve been suffocating in this
+damned little room for the last hour, waitin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right. Here&#8217;s the money,&#8221; said Blackie, and handed him <i>half the
+stakes which had just been intrusted to his care</i>. &#8220;Spread this in as
+many pool-rooms as you can; get it all down on Whipsaw.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Three ways?&#8221; asked Shorty.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Straight, every cent of it,&#8221; insisted Daw. &#8220;No place or show-money
+for us to-day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the track they saw Beauty Phillips alone in the grand-stand, and
+joined her. Wallingford introduced Blackie, and they chatted with her
+a few moments, then Wallingford took him away. He did not care to have
+Jake Block see them with her until after the fourth race. As they
+moved off she gave Wallingford a quick, meaning little nod.</p>
+
+<p>True to Pickins&#8217; threat the quartet kept very close indeed to Daw,
+but, during the finish of the rather exciting third race, Blackie,
+man&oelig;uvering so that Wallingford was just behind him, slipped from
+his pocket the remaining half of the stake-money.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, boys,&#8221; said Wallingford blandly, the money safely tucked away
+in his own pocket. &#8220;I still have a little coin to wager on Whipsaw. Do
+you want it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No; we&#8217;re satisfied,&#8221; returned Larry dryly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right, then,&#8221; said Wallingford. &#8220;I&#8217;m going down and get it on the
+books.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Harry Phelps sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s too bad to see that easy money going away from us, Pink,&#8221; he
+confessed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p><p>Jake Block spent but little time that afternoon in the grand-stand by
+the side of Beauty Phillips and her mother. From the beginning of the
+racing he was first in the stables and then in the paddock with an
+anxious eye. He was lined up at the fence opposite the barrier for the
+start of the fateful fourth, and he stood there, after the horses had
+jumped away, to watch his great little Whipsaw around the course. But
+Beauty Phillips was not without company. Wallingford sauntered up at
+the sound of the mounting bell and sat confidently by her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you get it all down, Jimmy?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Every cent,&#8221; said he, wiping his brow nervously. &#8220;Did you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother and I are broke if Whipsaw don&#8217;t win,&#8221; she confessed with dry
+lips. &#8220;What do you suppose makes Mr. Block look up here with such a
+poison face every two or three minutes?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford chuckled hugely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The odds,&#8221; he explained. &#8220;I&#8217;ve cut them to slivers. I bet all mine
+and Blackie&#8217;s money with the Phelps crowd, then turned around and bet
+all ours and theirs again. Say, it&#8217;s murder if I lose. Not even a
+fancy murder, either.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Blackie Daw, attended by three of his guard, came over to join them,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>Blackie evidencing a strong disposition to linger in the rear, for he
+was taking a desperate chance with desperate men. If Whipsaw lost he
+had his course mapped out&mdash;down the nearest steps of the grand-stand
+and out to the carriage-gate as fast as his legs would carry him.
+There, J. Rufus&#8217; automobile was to be waiting, all cranked up and
+trembling, ready to dart away the moment Blackie should jump in. Just
+as Blackie and the others joined Wallingford and Beauty Phillips,
+Larry Teller came breathlessly up from the betting-shed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s something doing on that Whipsaw horse,&#8221; he declared
+excitedly. &#8220;He opened at twenty to one&mdash;and in fifteen minutes of
+play&mdash;either somebody that knows something&mdash;or a wagonload of
+fool-money&mdash;had backed him down to evens. Think of it! Evens!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a sudden roar from the crowd, more like a gigantic groan
+than any other sound. They were off! One horse was left at the post,
+but it was not Whipsaw. Two others trailed behind. The other five were
+away, well bunched. At the quarter, three horses drew into the lead,
+Whipsaw just behind them. At the half, one of the three was dropping
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>back, and Whipsaw slowly overtaking it. Now his nose was at her
+flanks; now at the saddle; then the jockeys were abreast; then the
+white jacket and red sleeves of Whipsaw&#8217;s rider could be seen to the
+fore of the opposing jockey, with the two leaders just ahead. At the
+three-quarters, three horses were neck and neck again, but this time
+Whipsaw was among them. Down the stretch they came pounding, and then,
+and not until then, did Whipsaw, a lithe, shining little brown streak,
+strike into the best stride of which he was capable. A thousand hoarse
+watchers, as they came to the seven-eighths, roared encouragement to
+the horses. Whipsaw&#8217;s name was much among them, but only in tones of
+anger. Men and even women ran down to the rail and stood on tiptoe
+with red faces, shrieking for Fashion to come on, begging and praying
+Fashion to win, for Fashion carried most of the money; and the
+shrieking became an agony as the horses flashed under the wire,
+Whipsaw a good, clean half length in the lead!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 343px;">
+<img src="images/i222.jpg" class="ispace" width="343" height="500" alt="Beauty Phillips discovered she was on her feet" title="" />
+<span class="caption">Beauty Phillips discovered she was on her feet</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>As the roaring stopped in one high, abrupt wail, Beauty Phillips, who
+never knew emotion or excitement, suddenly discovered, to her vast
+surprise, that she was on her feet! that she was clutching her throat
+for its hoarseness! that she was dripping with perspiration! that she
+was faint and weak and giddy! <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>that her blood was pounding and her eyeballs hurt; and that she had
+been, from the stretch down, jumping violently up and down and
+shrieking the name of Whipsaw! Whipsaw! Whipsaw! Whipsaw!</p>
+
+<p>A frenzied hand grabbed Blackie Daw by the elbow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Duck, for God&#8217;s sake, Blackie!&#8221; implored the shaking voice of Billy
+Banting. &#8220;Go down to the old joint on Thirty-third Street and wait for
+us. We&#8217;ll split up that stake and all make a get-away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not on your life!&#8221; returned Blacked calmly, and pulled Wallingford
+around toward him by the shoulder. &#8220;I shall have great pleasure in
+turning over to Mr. Wallingford the combined bets of the Broadway
+Syndicate against that lovely little record-breaker, Whipsaw.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a good horse,&#8221; said Wallingford with forced calmness, and then
+he began to chuckle, his broad shoulders shaking and his breast
+heaving; &#8220;and it was well named. I fawncy the Broadway Syndicate book
+will now go out of business&mdash;and with no chance to welch.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All we wise people knew about it,&#8221; Blackie condescendingly explained
+to the quartet. &#8220;You see, I am running the National Clockers&#8217;
+Association.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p><p>Before the voiceless Broadway Syndicate was through gasping over this
+piece of news, Jake Block came stalking through the grand-stand.
+Though elated over his victory and flushed with his winnings, he
+nevertheless had time to cast a bitter scowl in the direction of
+Beauty Phillips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The next time I hand any woman a tip you may cut my arm off!&#8221; he
+declared. &#8220;I&#8217;m through with you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s that?&#8221; asked Larry Teller, glaring after the man who had
+mentioned the pregnant word &#8220;tip.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jake Block, the owner of Whipsaw,&#8221; Wallingford was pleased to inform
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a frame-up!&#8221; shouted Billy Banting.</p>
+
+<p>A strong left hand clutched desperately at Blackie Daw&#8217;s coat and tore
+the top button off, and an equally strong right hand grabbed into
+Blackie Daw&#8217;s inside coat-pocket. It was empty, Pickins found, just as
+a stronger hand than his own gripped him until he winced with pain.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What have you done with the stakes?&#8221; shrieked Pickins, trying to
+throw off that grip, but not turning.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;What&#8217;s it your business? But, if you want to know, all that
+stake-money was bet in the shed and in the books about town&mdash;on
+Whipsaw to win!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The broad-shouldered man who had edged up quite near to them during
+the race, and who had interfered with Pickins, now stepped in front of
+the members of the defunct Broadway Syndicate. They only took one good
+look at him, and then fell back quite clamily. In the broad-shouldered
+giant they had recognized Harvey Willis, the quite capable Broadway
+policeman and friend of Wallingford, off for the day in his street
+clothes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Run along, little ones, and play tricks on the ignorant country folks
+from Harlem and Flatbush,&#8221; advised Beauty Phillips as she took
+Wallingford&#8217;s arm and turned away with him. &#8220;You&#8217;ve been whipsawed!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was exceptionally gracious to J. Rufus that evening, but for the
+first time in many days he was extremely thoughtful. A vague unrest
+possessed him and it grew as the Beauty became more gracious. He
+guessed that he could marry her if he wished, but somehow the idea did
+not please him as it might have done a few weeks earlier. He liked the
+Beauty perhaps even better than before, but somehow she was not quite
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>the type of woman for him, and he had not realized it until she
+brought him face to face with the problem.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By the way,&#8221; he said as he bid her good night, &#8220;I think I&#8217;ll take a
+little run about the country for a while. I&#8217;m a whole lot tired of
+this man&#8217;s town.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h3>J. RUFUS SEEKS FOR PROFITABLE INVESTMENT IN<br />
+THE COUNTRY</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span> rattling old carryall, drawn by one knobby yellow horse and driven
+by a decrepit patriarch of sixty, stopped with a groan and a creak and
+a final rattle at the door of the weather-beaten Atlas Hotel, and a
+grocery &#8220;drummer,&#8221; a beardless youth with pink cheeks, jumped hastily
+out and rushed into the clean but bare little office, followed as
+hastily by a grizzled veteran of the road who sold dry-goods and
+notions and wore gaudy young clothes. Wallingford emerged much more
+slowly, as became his ponderous size. He was dressed in a green summer
+suit of ineffable fabric, wore green low shoes, green silk hose, a
+green felt hat, and a green bow tie, below which, in the bosom of his
+green silk negligee shirt, glowed a huge diamond. Richness and bigness
+were the very essence of him, and the aged driver, recognizing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>true
+worth when he saw it, gave a jerk at his dust-crusted old cap as he
+addressed him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Tain&#8217;t no use to hurry now,&#8221; he quavered. &#8220;Them other two&#8217;ll have
+the good rooms.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>J. Rufus, from natural impulse, followed in immediately. There was no
+one behind the little counter, but the young grocery drummer, having
+hastily inspected the sparse entries of the preceding days, had
+registered himself for room two.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There ain&#8217;t a single transient in the house, Billy,&#8221; he said, turning
+to the dry-goods and notion salesman, &#8220;so I&#8217;ll just put you down for
+number three.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A buxom young woman came out of the adjoining dining-room, wiping her
+red hands and arms upon a water-spattered gingham apron.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Three of us, Molly,&#8221; said the older salesman. &#8220;Hustle up the dinner,&#8221;
+and out of pure friendliness he started to chuck her under the chin,
+whereat she wheeled and slapped him a resounding whack and ran away
+laughing. This vigorous retort, being entirely expected, was passed
+without comment, and the two commercial travelers took off their coats
+to &#8220;wash up&#8221; at the tin basins in the corner. The aged driver,
+intercepting them to collect, came in to Wallingford, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>who, noting the
+custom, had already subscribed his name with a flourish upon the
+register.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Two shillin&#8217;,&#8221; quavered the ancient one at his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford gave him twice the amount he asked for, and the old man
+was galvanized into instant fluttering activity. He darted out of the
+door with surprising agility, and returned with two pieces of
+Wallingford&#8217;s bright and shining luggage, which he surveyed reverently
+as he placed them in front of the counter. Two more pieces, equally
+rich, he brought, and on the third trip the proprietor&#8217;s son, a brawny
+boy of fifteen, clad in hickory shirt, blue overalls and plow shoes,
+and with his sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, helped him in with
+Wallingford&#8217;s big sole-leather dresser trunk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gee!&#8221; said the boy to Wallingford, beaming upon this array of
+expensive baggage. &#8220;What do you sell?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;White elephants, son,&#8221; replied Wallingford, so gravely that the boy
+took two minutes to decide that the rich stranger was &#8220;fresh.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was not until dinner was called that any one displayed the least
+interest in the register, and then the proprietor, a tall, cowboy-like
+man, with drooping <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>mustaches and a weather-browned face, came in with
+his trousers tucked into his top boots.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Joe! Hello, Billy!&#8221; he said, nodding to the two traveling men.
+&#8220;How&#8217;s business?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rotten!&#8221; returned the grocery drummer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fine!&#8221; asserted the dry-goods salesman. &#8220;Our house hasn&#8217;t done so
+much business in five years.&#8221; <i>Sotto voce</i>, he turned to the young
+drummer. &#8220;Never give it away that business is on the bum,&#8221; he said out
+of his years of experience.</p>
+
+<p>The tall proprietor examined the impressively groomed Wallingford and
+his impressive luggage with some curiosity, and went behind the little
+counter to inspect the register.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d like two rooms and a bath,&#8221; said Wallingford, as the other looked
+up thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Two! Two?&#8221; repeated Jim Ranger, looking about the room. &#8220;Some ladies
+with you? Mother or sister, maybe?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; answered Wallingford, smiling. &#8220;A bedroom and sitting-room and a
+bath for myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sitting-room?&#8221; repeated the proprietor. &#8220;You know, you can sit in
+this office till the &#8217;leven-ten&#8217;s in every night, and then the
+parlor&#8217;s&mdash;&#8221; He hesitated, and, seeing the unresponsive look upon his
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>guest&#8217;s face, he added hastily: &#8220;Oh, well, I reckon I can fix it. We
+can move a bed out of number five, and I&#8217;ll have the bath-tub and the
+water sent up as soon as you need it. This is wash-day, you know, and
+they&#8217;ve got the rinse water in it. I reckon you won&#8217;t want it before
+to-night, though.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said J. Rufus quietly, and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after lunch, J. Rufus, inquiring again for the proprietor,
+was told by Molly that he was in the barn, indicating its direction
+with a vague wave of her thumb. Wallingford went out to the enormous
+red barn, its timbers as firm as those of the hotel were flimsy, its
+lines as rigidly perpendicular as those of the hotel were out of
+plumb, its doors and windows as square-angled as those of the hotel
+were askew. Across its wide front doors, opening upon the same wide,
+cracked old stone sidewalk as the hotel, was a big sign kept fresh and
+bright: &#8220;J. H. Ranger, Livery and Sales Stable.&#8221; Here Wallingford
+found the proprietor and the brawny boy in the middle of the wide barn
+floor, in earnest consultation over the bruised hock of a fine, big,
+draft horse.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d like to get a good team and a driver for this afternoon,&#8221;
+observed Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve come to the right place,&#8221; declared Jim Ranger heartily, and
+when he straightened up he no longer looked awkward and out of place,
+as he had in the hotel office, but seemed a graceful part of the
+surrounding picture. &#8220;Bob, get out that little sorrel team and hitch
+it up to the new buggy for the gentleman,&#8221; and as Bob sprang away with
+alacrity he turned to Wallingford. &#8220;They&#8217;re not much to look at, that
+sorrel team,&#8221; he explained, &#8220;but they can go like a couple of rats,
+all day, at a good, steady clip, up hill and down.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fine,&#8221; said Wallingford, who was somewhat of a connoisseur in horses,
+and he surveyed the under-sized, lithe-limbed, rough-coated sorrels
+with approval as they were brought stamping out of their stalls,
+though, as he climbed into his place, he regretted that they were not
+more in keeping with the handsome buggy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Which way?&#8221; asked Bob, as he gathered up the reins.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The country just outside of town, in all directions,&#8221; directed
+Wallingford briefly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; said Bob with a click to the little horses, and
+clattering out of the door they turned to the right, away from the
+broad, shady street of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>old maples, and were almost at once in the
+country. For a mile or two there were gently undulating farms of rich,
+black loam, and these Wallingford inspected in careful turn.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seems to be good land about here,&#8221; he observed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Best in the world,&#8221; said the youngster. &#8220;Was you thinkin&#8217; of buyin&#8217; a
+farm?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford smiled and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I scarcely think so,&#8221; he replied.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Twouldn&#8217;t do you any good if you was,&#8221; retorted Bob. &#8220;There ain&#8217;t a
+farm hereabouts for sale.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>To prove it, he pointed out the extent of each farm, gave the name of
+its owner and told how much he was worth, to all of which Wallingford
+listened most intently.</p>
+
+<p>They had been driving to the east, but, coming to a fork in the road
+leading to the north, Bob took that turning without instructions,
+still chattering his local Bradstreet. Along this road was again rich
+and smiling farm land, but Wallingford, seeming throughout the drive
+to be eagerly searching for something, evinced a new interest when
+they came to a grove of slender, straight-trunked trees.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Old man Mescott gets a hundred gallons of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>maple syrup out of that
+grove every spring,&#8221; said Bob in answer to a query. &#8220;He gets two
+dollars a gallon, then he stays drunk till plumb the middle of summer.
+Was you thinkin&#8217; of buyin&#8217; a maple grove?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford looked back in thoughtful speculation, but ended by
+shaking his head, more to himself than to Bob.</p>
+
+<p>They passed through a woods.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good timber land, that,&#8221; suggested Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good timber land! I should say it was,&#8221; said Bob. &#8220;There&#8217;s nigh a
+hundred big walnut trees back in there a ways, to say nothing of all
+the fine oak an&#8217; hick&#8217;ry, but old man Cass won&#8217;t touch an ax to
+nothing but underbrush. He says he&#8217;s goin&#8217; to will &#8217;em to his
+grandchildren, and by the time they grow up it&#8217;ll be worth their
+weight in money. Was you thinkin&#8217; of buyin&#8217; some timber land?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford again hesitated over that question, but finally stated
+that he was not.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s the north road back into town,&#8221; said Bob, as they came to a
+cross-road, and as they gained the top of the elevation they could
+look down and see, a mile or so away, the little town, its gray roofs
+and red chimneys peeping from out its sheltering of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>green leaves.
+Just beyond the intersection the side of the hill had been cut away,
+and clean, loose gravel lay there in a broad mass. Wallingford had Bob
+halt while he inspected this.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good gravel bank,&#8221; he commented.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I reckon it is,&#8221; agreed Bob. &#8220;They come clear over from Highville and
+from Appletown and even from Jenkins Corners to get that gravel, and
+Tom Kerrick dresses his whole family off of that bank. He wouldn&#8217;t
+sell it for any money. Was you thinkin&#8217; of buying a gravel bank,
+mister?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Instead of replying Wallingford indicated another broken hillside
+farther on, where shale rock had slipped loosely down, like a
+disintegrated slate roof, to a seeping hollow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that stone good for anything?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nothing in the world,&#8221; replied Bob. &#8220;It rots right up. If you was
+thinkin&#8217; of buyin&#8217; a stone quarry now, there&#8217;s a fine one up the north
+road yonder.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford laughed and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wasn&#8217;t thinking of buying a stone quarry,&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>Bob Ranger looked shrewdly and yet half-impatiently at the big young
+man by his side.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;You&#8217;re thinkin&#8217; o&#8217; buyin&#8217; somethin&#8217;; I know that,&#8221; he opined.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford chuckled and dropped his big, plump hand on the other&#8217;s
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Elephant hay only,&#8221; he kindly explained; &#8220;just elephant hay for white
+elephants,&#8221; whereat the inquisitive Bob, mumbling something to himself
+about &#8220;freshness,&#8221; relapsed into hurt silence.</p>
+
+<p>In this silence they passed far to the northwest of the town, and a
+much-gullied highway led them down toward the broader west road. Here
+again, as they headed straight in to Blakeville with their backs to
+the descending sun, were gently undulating farm lands, but about half
+a mile out of town they came to a wide expanse of black swamp, where
+cat-tails and calamus held sole possession. Before this swamp
+Wallingford paused in long and thoughtful contemplation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who owns this?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jonas Bubble,&#8221; answered Bob, recovering cheerfully from his late
+rebuff. &#8220;Gosh! He&#8217;s the richest man in these parts. Owns three hundred
+acres of this fine farmin&#8217; land we just passed, owns the mill down
+yander by the railroad station, has a hide and seed and implement
+store up-town, and lives in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>finest house anywhere around
+Blakeville; regular city house. That&#8217;s it, on ahead. Was you thinkin&#8217;
+o&#8217; buyin&#8217; some swamp land?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>To this Wallingford made no reply. He was gazing backward over that
+useless little valley, its black waters now turned velvet crimson as
+they caught the slant of the reddening sun.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s Jonas Bubble&#8217;s house,&#8221; said Bob presently.</p>
+
+<p>It was the first house outside of Blakeville&mdash;a big, square,
+pretentious-looking place, with a two-story porch in front and a
+quantity of scroll-sawed ornaments on eaves and gables and ridges, on
+windows and doors and cornices, and with bright brass lightning-rods
+projecting upward from every prominence. At the gate stood,
+bare-headed, a dark-haired and strikingly pretty girl, with a rarely
+olive-tinted complexion, through which, upon her oval cheeks, glowed a
+clear, roseate under-tint. She was fairly slender, but well rounded,
+too, and very graceful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Fannie!&#8221; called Bob, with a jerk at his flat-brimmed straw
+hat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Bob!&#8221; she replied with equal heartiness, her bright eyes,
+however, fixed in inquiring curiosity upon the stranger.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;That&#8217;s Jonas Bubble&#8217;s girl,&#8221; explained Bob, as they drove on. &#8220;She&#8217;s
+a good looker, but she won&#8217;t spoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford, grinning over the fatal defect in Fannie Bubble, looked
+back at the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She would make a Casino chorus look like a row of Hallowe&#8217;en
+confectionery junk,&#8221; he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fannie, come right in here and get supper!&#8221; shrilled a harsh voice,
+and in the doorway of the Bubble homestead they saw an overly-plump
+figure in a green silk dress.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gosh!&#8221; said Bob, and hit one of the little sorrel horses a vindictive
+clip. &#8220;That&#8217;s Fannie&#8217;s stepmother. Jonas Bubble married his hired girl
+two years ago, and now they don&#8217;t hire any. She makes Fannie do the
+work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>WALLINGFORD SPECULATES IN THE CHEAPEST REAL<br />
+ESTATE PROCURABLE</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>hat evening, after supper, Wallingford sat on one of the broad,
+cane-seated chairs in front of the Atlas Hotel, smoking a big, black
+cigar from his own private store, and watched the regular evening
+parade go by. They came, two by two, the girls of the village, up one
+side of Maple Street, passed the Atlas Hotel, crossed over at the
+corner of the livery stable, went down past the Big Store and as far
+as the Campbellite church, where they crossed again and began a new
+round; and each time they passed the Atlas Hotel they giggled, or they
+talked loudly, or pushed one another, or did something to enlarge
+themselves in the transient eye. The grocery drummer and the dry-goods
+salesman sat together, a little aloof from J. Rufus, and presently
+began saying flippant things to the girls as they passed. A wake of
+giggles, after each such occasion, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>frothed across the street at the
+livery-stable corner, and down toward the Campbellite church.</p>
+
+<p>Molly presently slipped out of the garden gate and went down Maple
+Street by herself. Within twenty minutes she, too, had joined the
+parade, and with her was Fannie Bubble. As these passed the Atlas
+Hotel both the drummers got up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Molly,&#8221; said the grocery drummer. &#8220;I&#8217;ve been waiting for you
+since Hector was a pup,&#8221; and he caught her arm, while the dry-goods
+salesman advanced a little uncertainly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You &#8217;tend to your own business, Joe Cling,&#8221; ordered Molly, jerking
+her arm away, but nevertheless giving an inquiring glance toward her
+companion. That rigid young lady, however, was looking straight ahead.
+She was standing just in front of Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come on,&#8221; coaxed the grocery drummer; &#8220;I don&#8217;t bite. Grab hold there
+on the other side, Billy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Bubble, however, was still looking so uncompromisingly straight
+ahead that Billy hesitated, and the willing enough Molly, seeing that
+the conference had &#8220;struck a snag,&#8221; took matters into her own vigorous
+hands again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re too fresh,&#8221; she admonished the grocery <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>drummer. &#8220;Let go my
+arm, I tell you. Come on, Fannie,&#8221; and she flounced away with her
+companion, turning into the gate of the hotel garden. Miss Fannie cast
+back a curious glance, not at the grocery drummer nor the veteran
+dry-goods salesman, but at the quiet J. Rufus.</p>
+
+<p>The discomfited transients gave short laughs of chagrin and went back
+to their seats, but the grocery drummer was too young to be daunted
+for long, and by the time another section or two of the giggling
+parade had passed them he was ready for a second attempt. One couple,
+a tall, thin girl and a short, chubby one, who had now made the
+circuit three times, came sweeping past again, exchanging with each
+other hilarious persiflage which was calculated to attract and tempt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait a minute,&#8221; said the grocery drummer to his companion.</p>
+
+<p>He dashed straight across the street, and under the shadow of the big
+elm intercepted the long and short couple. There was a parley in which
+the girls two or three times started to walk away, a further parley in
+which they consented to stand still, a loud male guffaw mingled with a
+succession of shrill giggles, then suddenly the grocery salesman
+called:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Come on, Billy!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The dry-goods man half rose from his chair and hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come on, Billy!&#8221; again invited the grocery drummer. &#8220;We&#8217;re going down
+to wade in the creek.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A particularly high-pitched set of giggles followed this tremendous
+joke, and Billy, his timid scruples finally overcome, went across the
+street, a ridiculous figure with his ancient body and his youthful
+clothes. Nevertheless, Wallingford felt just a trifle lonesome as he
+watched his traveling companions of the afternoon go sauntering down
+the street in company which, if silly, was at least human. While he
+regretted Broadway, Bob Ranger, dressed no whit different from his
+attire of the afternoon, except that his sleeves were rolled down,
+came out of the hotel and stood for an undecided moment in front of
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Bob!&#8221; hailed Wallingford cordially, glad to see any face he
+knew. &#8220;Do you smoke?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Reckon I do,&#8221; said Bob. &#8220;I was thinkin&#8217; just this minute of walkin&#8217;
+down to Bud Hegler&#8217;s for some stogies.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sit down and have a cigar,&#8221; offered Wallingford, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>producing a
+companion to the one he was then enjoying.</p>
+
+<p>Bob took that cigar and smelled it; he measured its length, its
+weight, and felt its firmness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It ain&#8217;t got any band on it, but I reckon that&#8217;s a straight
+ten-center,&#8221; he opined.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll buy all you can get me of that brand for a quarter apiece,&#8221;
+offered Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So?&#8221; said Bob, looking at it doubtfully. &#8220;I reckon I&#8217;d better save
+this for Sunday.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, smoke it now. I&#8217;ll give you another one for Sunday,&#8221; promised
+Wallingford, and he lit a match, whereupon Bob, biting the end off the
+cigar with his strong, white teeth, moistened it all over with his
+tongue to keep the curl of the wrapper down.</p>
+
+<p>With vast gratification he sat down to enjoy that awe-inspiring cigar,
+and, by way of being entertaining, uttered comment upon the passing
+parade&mdash;frank, ingeniously told bits of personal history which would
+have been startling to one who had imbibed the conventional idea that
+all country folk are without guile. Wallingford was not so much
+shocked by these revelations, however, as he might have been, for he
+had himself been raised in a country town, though one not so small as
+Blakeville.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>It was while Bob was in the midst of this more or less profane history
+that Molly and Fannie Bubble came out of the gate.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come here, Molly,&#8221; invited Bob; &#8220;I want to introduce you to a friend
+of mine. He&#8217;s going to stop here quite a long time. Mr.
+Wallingford&mdash;Molly; Miss Bubble&mdash;Mr. Wallingford. Come on; let&#8217;s all
+take a walk,&#8221; and confidently taking Molly&#8217;s arm he started up the
+crossing, leaving Miss Bubble to Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a beautiful evening, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; said Fannie, as Wallingford
+caught step with her.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford had to hark back. Time had been when the line of
+conversation which went with Miss Bubble&#8217;s opening remark had been as
+familiar to him as his own safety razor, but of late he had been
+entertaining such characters as Beauty Phillips, and conversation with
+the Beauty had consisted of lightning-witted search through the ends
+of the earth and the seas therein for extravagant hyperbole and
+metaphor. Harking back was so difficult that J. Rufus gave it up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lovely evening,&#8221; he admitted. &#8220;I&#8217;ve just been thinking about this
+weather. I&#8217;ve about decided to build a factory to put it up in boxes
+for the Chicago <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>Market. They&#8217;d pay any price for it there in the
+fall.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Fannie considered this remark in silence for a moment, and then
+she laughed, a quiet, silvery laugh that startled J. Rufus by its
+musical quality.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see why you should laugh,&#8221; protested Wallingford gravely. &#8220;If
+a man can get a monopoly on weather-canning it would be even better
+than the sleep-factory idea I&#8217;ve been considering.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What was that like?&#8221; asked Fannie, interested in spite of the fact
+that these jokes were not at all the good old standards, which could
+be laughed at without the painful necessity of thought.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; Wallingford explained, &#8220;I figured on building an immense
+dormitory and hiring about a thousand fat hoboes to sleep for me night
+and day. Then I intended to take that sleep and condense it and put it
+up in eight-hour capsules for visitors to New York. There ought to be
+a fortune in that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again a little silence and again that little silvery laugh which
+Wallingford found himself watching for.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re so funny,&#8221; said Miss Fannie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For a long time I was divided between that and my anti-bum serum as a
+permanent investment,&#8221; he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>went on, glancing down at her as he
+extended himself along the line which had seemed to catch her fancy.
+She was looking up at him, her eyes shining, her lips half parted in
+an anticipatory smile, and unconsciously her hand had crept upon his
+arm, where it lay warm and vibrant. &#8220;You know,&#8221; he explained, &#8220;they
+inoculate a guinea-pig or a sheep or something with disease germs, and
+from this animal, somehow or other, they extract a serum which cures
+that disease. Well, I propose to get a herd of billy-goats boiling
+spifflicated, and extract from them the jag serum, and with that
+inoculate all the rounders on Broadway at so much per inoc. Then they
+can stand up in front of an onyx bar and guzzle till it oozes out of
+their ears, without any worse effects than a lifting pain in the right
+elbow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This time the laugh came more slowly, for here was a lot of language
+which, though refreshing, was tangled in knots that must be unraveled.
+Nevertheless, the laugh came, and at the sound of it Wallingford
+involuntarily pressed slightly against his side the hand that lay upon
+his arm. They were passing Hen Moozer&#8217;s General Merchandise Emporium
+and Post-Office at the time, and upon the rickety porch, its posts,
+benches, and even floors whittled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>like a huge Rosetta stone, sat a
+group of five young men. Just after the couple had cleared the end of
+the porch a series of derisive meows broke out. It was the old protest
+of town boy against city boy, of work clothes against &#8220;Sunday duds,&#8221;
+of native against alien; and again J. Rufus harked back. It only
+provoked a smile in him, but he felt a sudden tenseness in the hand
+that lay upon his arm, and he was relieved when Bob and Molly, a half
+block ahead of them, turned hastily down a delightfully dark and shady
+cross street, in the shelter of which Bob immediately slipped his arm
+around Molly&#8217;s waist. J. Rufus, pondering that movement and regarding
+it as the entirely conventional and proper one, essayed to do
+likewise; but Miss Fannie, discussing the unpleasant habit of her
+young townsmen with some indignation but more sense of humor, gently
+but firmly unwound J. Rufus&#8217; arm, placed it at his side and slipped
+her hand within it again without the loss of a syllable.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford was surprised at himself. In the old days he would have
+fought out this issue and would have conquered. Now, however,
+something had made this bold young man of the world suddenly tame. He
+himself helped Miss Fannie to put him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>back upon grounds of friendly
+aloofness, and with a gasp he realized that for the first time in his
+life he had met a girl who had forced his entire respect. It was
+preposterous!</p>
+
+<p>Unaccountably, however, they seemed to grow more friendly after that,
+and the talk drifted to J. Rufus himself, the places he had seen, the
+adventures he had encountered, the richness of luxury that he had
+sought and found, and the girl listened with breathless eagerness.
+They did not go back to Maple Street just now, for the Maple Street
+parade was only for the unattached. Instead, they followed the others
+down to the depot and back, and after another half-hour <i>d&eacute;tour</i>
+through the quiet, shady street, they found Bob and Molly waiting for
+them at the corner.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good night, Fannie,&#8221; said Molly. &#8220;I&#8217;m going in. To-morrow&#8217;s ironing
+day. Good night, Mr. Wallingford.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good night,&#8221; returned Miss Fannie, as a matter of course, and again
+Wallingford harked back. He was to take Miss Fannie home. Quite
+naturally. Why not?</p>
+
+<p>It was a long walk, but by no means too long, and when they had
+arrived at the big, fret-sawed house <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>of Jonas Bubble, J. Rufus was
+sorry. He lingered a moment at the gate, but only a moment, for a
+woman&#8217;s shrill voice called:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that you, Fannie? You come right in here and go to bed! Who&#8217;s that
+with you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d better go right away, please,&#8221; pleaded Fannie in a flutter.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m not allowed to be with strangers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This would have been the cue for a less adroit and diplomatic caller
+to hurry silently back up the street, and, as a matter of fact, this
+entirely conventional course was all that Mrs. Bubble had looked for.
+She was accordingly shocked when the gate opened, and in place of
+Fannie coming alone, J. Rufus, in spite of the girl&#8217;s protest, walked
+deliberately up to the porch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is Mr. Bubble at home?&#8221; he asked with great dignity.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bubble gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I reckon he is,&#8221; she admitted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d like to see him, if possible.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was another moment of silence, in which Mrs. Bubble strove to
+readjust herself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll call him,&#8221; she said, and went in.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jonas Bubble, revealed in the light of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>open door, proved to
+be a pursy man of about fifty-five, full of importance from his
+square-toed shoes to his gray sideburns; he exuded importance from
+every vest button upon the bulge of his rotundity, and importance
+glistened from the very top of his bald head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am J. Rufus Wallingford,&#8221; said that broad-chested young gentleman,
+whose impressiveness was at least equal to Mr. Bubble&#8217;s importance,
+and he produced a neatly-engraved card to prove the genuineness of his
+name. &#8220;I was introduced to your daughter at the hotel, and I came down
+to consult with you upon a little matter of business.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I usually transact business at my office,&#8221; said Mr. Bubble pompously;
+&#8220;nevertheless, you may come inside.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He led the way into a queer combination of parlor, library,
+sitting-room and study, where he lit a big, hanging gasolene lamp,
+opened his old swinging top desk with a key which he carefully and
+pompously selected from a pompous bunch, placed a plush-covered chair
+for his visitor, and seated himself upon an old leather-stuffed chair
+in front of the desk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, sir,&#8221; said he, swinging around to Wallingford <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>and puffing out
+his cheeks, &#8220;I am ready to consider whatever you may have to say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wallingford&#8217;s first action was one well-calculated to inspire
+interest. First he drew out the desk slide at Mr. Bubble&#8217;s left; then
+from his inside vest pocket he produced a large flat package of
+greenbacks, no bill being of less than a hundred dollars&#8217;
+denomination. From this pile he carefully counted out eight thousand
+dollars, and put the balance, which Mr. Bubble hastily estimated at
+about fifteen hundred, back in his pocket. This procedure having been
+conducted with vast and impressive silence, Mr. Wallingford cleared
+his throat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have come to ask a great favor of you,&#8221; said he, sinking his voice
+to barely above a whisper. &#8220;I am a stranger here. I find,
+unfortunately, that there is no bank in Blakeville, and I have more
+money with me than I care to carry about. I learned that you are the
+only real man of affairs in the town, and have come to ask you if you
+would kindly make room for this in your private safe for a day or so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bubble, rotating his thumbs slowly upon each other, considered
+that money in profound silence. The possessor of so much loose cash
+was a gentleman, a man to be respected.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;With pleasure,&#8221; said Mr. Bubble. &#8220;I don&#8217;t myself like to have so much
+money about me, and I&#8217;d advise you, as soon as convenient, to take it
+up to Millford, where I do my banking. In the meantime, I don&#8217;t blame
+you, Mr. Wallingford, for not wanting to carry this much money about
+with you, nor for hesitating to put it in Jim Ranger&#8217;s old tin safe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; said Wallingford. &#8220;I feel very much relieved.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bubble drew paper and pen toward him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll write you a receipt,&#8221; he offered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not at all; not at all,&#8221; protested Wallingford, having gaged Mr.
+Bubble very accurately. &#8220;Between gentlemen such matters are entirely
+superfluous. By the way, Mr. Bubble, I see you have a large swamp on
+your land. Do you intend to let it lie useless for ever?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What else can I do with it?&#8221; demanded Mr. Bubble, wondering. That
+swamp had always been there. Naturally, it would always be there.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t do very much with it,&#8221; admitted Wallingford. &#8220;However, it
+is barely possible that I might see a way to utilize it, if the price
+were reasonable enough. What would you take for it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p><p>This was an entirely different matter. Mr. Bubble pursed up his lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t know. The land surrounding it is worth two hundred
+dollars an acre.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford grinned, but only internally. He knew this to be a highly
+exaggerated estimate, but he let it pass without comment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No doubt,&#8221; he agreed; &#8220;but your swamp is worth exactly nothing per
+square mile; in fact, worth less than nothing. It is only a
+breeding-place of mosquitoes and malaria. How many acres does it
+cover?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;About forty.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose ten dollars an acre would buy it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By no means,&#8221; protested Mr. Bubble. &#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t have a right of way
+split through my farm for four hundred dollars. Couldn&#8217;t think of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was Wallingford&#8217;s turn to be silent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tell you what I&#8217;ll do,&#8221; he finally began. &#8220;I think of settling down
+in Blakeville. I like the town from what I&#8217;ve seen of it, and I may
+make some important investments here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bubble nodded his head gravely. A man who carried over eight
+thousand dollars surplus cash in his pocket had a right to talk that
+way.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;The matter, of course,&#8221; continued Wallingford, &#8220;requires considerable
+further investigation. In the meantime, I stand ready to pay you now a
+hundred dollars for a thirty-day option upon forty acres of your swamp
+land, the hundred to apply upon a total purchase price of one thousand
+dollars. Moreover, I&#8217;ll make it a part of the contract that no
+enterprise be undertaken upon this ground without receiving your
+sanction.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bubble considered this matter in pompous silence for some little
+time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Suppose we just reduce that proposition to writing, Mr. Wallingford,&#8221;
+he finally suggested, and without stirring from his seat he raised his
+voice and called: &#8220;Fannie!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In reply two voices approached the door, one sharp, querulous,
+nagging, the other, the younger and fresher voice, protesting; then
+the girl came in, followed closely by her stepmother. The girl looked
+at Wallingford brightly. He was the first young man who had bearded
+the lioness at Bubble Villa, and she appreciated the novelty. Mrs.
+Bubble, however, distinctly glared at him, though the eyes of both
+women roved from him to the pile of bills <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>held down with a paper
+weight on Mr. Bubble&#8217;s desk. Mr. Bubble made way for his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Write a little agreement for Mr. Wallingford and myself,&#8221; directed
+Mr. Bubble, and dictated it, much to the surprise of the women, for
+Jonas always did his own writing. They did not understand that he,
+also, wished to make an impression.</p>
+
+<p>With a delicate flush of self-consciousness in her occupation Fannie
+wrote the option agreement, and later another document, acknowledging
+the receipt of eight thousand dollars to be held in trust. In exchange
+for the first paper J. Rufus gravely handed Mr. Bubble a
+hundred-dollar bill.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To-morrow,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I shall drop around to see you at your office,
+to confer with you about my proposed enterprise.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As Wallingford left the room, attended by the almost obsequious
+Bubble, he caught a lingering glance of interest, curiosity, and
+perhaps more, from the bright eyes of Fannie Bubble. Her stepmother,
+however, distinctly sniffed.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Wallingford, at the gate, turned for a moment toward the
+distant swamp where it lay now ebony and glittering silver in the
+moonlight, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>knitted his brows in perplexity, lit another of his black
+cigars, and strolled back to the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>What on earth should he do with that swamp, now that he had it?
+Something good ought to be hinged on it. Should he form a drainage
+company to restore it to good farming land? No. At best he could only
+get a hundred and fifty dollars an acre, or, say, six thousand dollars
+for the forty. The acreage alone was to cost him a thousand; no
+telling what the drainage would cost, but whatever the figure there
+would not be profit enough to hypothecate. And it was no part of
+Wallingford&#8217;s intention to do any actual work. He was through for ever
+with drudgery; for him was only creation.</p>
+
+<p>What should he do with that swamp? As he thought of it, his mind&#8217;s eye
+could see only its blackness. It was, after all, only a mass of dense,
+sticky, black mud!</p>
+
+<p>Still revolving this problem in mind, Wallingford went to his bedroom,
+where he had scarcely arrived when Bob Ranger followed him, his
+sleeves rolled up again and a pail of steaming water in each hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The old man said you was to have a bath when you come in,&#8221; stated
+Bob. &#8220;How hot do you want it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I think I&#8217;ll let it go till morning and have it cold,&#8221; replied
+Wallingford, chuckling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; said Bob. &#8220;It&#8217;s your funeral and not mine. I&#8217;ll just pour
+this in now and it&#8217;ll get cool by morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the next room&mdash;wherein the bed had been hastily replaced by two
+chairs, an old horsehair lounge and a kitchen table covered with a red
+table-cloth&mdash;Wallingford found a huge tin bath-tub, shaped like an
+elongated coal scuttle, dingy white on the inside and dingy green on
+the outside, and battered full of dents.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;d you get along?&#8221; asked Bob, pausing to wipe the perspiration
+from his brow after he had emptied the two pails of water into the
+tub.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; said Wallingford with a reminiscent smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Old Mrs. Bubble drive you off the place?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; replied Wallingford loftily. &#8220;I went in the house and talked a
+while.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go on!&#8221; exclaimed Bob, the glow of admiration almost shining through
+his skin. &#8220;Say, you&#8217;re a peach, all right! How do you like Fannie?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s a very nice girl,&#8221; opined Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; agreed Bob. &#8220;She&#8217;s getting a little old, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>though. She was
+twenty her last birthday. She&#8217;ll be an old maid pretty soon, but it&#8217;s
+her own fault.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then Bob went after more water, and Wallingford, seating himself at
+the table with paper and pencil, plunged into a succession of rambling
+figures concerning Jonas Bubble&#8217;s black swamp; and he figured and
+puzzled far into the night, with the piquant face of Miss Fannie
+drifting here and there among the figures.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h3>WHEREIN BLAKEVILLE HAS OPPORTUNITY TO BECOME<br />
+A GREAT ART CENTER</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>he next morning Wallingford requisitioned the services of Bob and the
+little sorrel team again, and drove out to Jonas Bubble&#8217;s swamp.
+Arrived there he climbed the fence, and, taking a sliver of fence rail
+with him, gravely prodded into the edge of the swamp in various
+places, hauling it up in each case dripping with viscid black mud,
+which he examined with the most minute care, dropping tiny drops upon
+the backs of clean cards and spreading them out smoothly with the tip
+of his finger, while he looked up into the sky inquiringly, not one
+gesture of his conduct lost upon the curious Bob.</p>
+
+<p>When he climbed back into the buggy, Bob, finding it impossible longer
+to restrain his quivering curiosity, asked him:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s it good for?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t tell you just yet,&#8221; said Wallingford kindly, &#8220;but if it is
+what I think it is, Bob, I&#8217;ve <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>made a great discovery, one that I am
+sure will not only increase my wealth but add greatly to the riches of
+Blakeville. Do you know where I could find Jonas Bubble at this hour?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Down at the mill, sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Drive down there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As they drove past Jonas Bubble&#8217;s house they saw Miss Fannie on the
+back porch, in an old wrapper, peeling potatoes, and heard the sharp
+voice of the second Mrs. Bubble scolding her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say,&#8221; said Bob, &#8220;if that old rip was my stepmother I&#8217;d poke her
+head-first into that swamp back yonder.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;d turn it black,&#8221; he gravely objected.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, it is black,&#8221; protested Bob, opening his eyes in bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>In reply to this Wallingford merely chuckled. Bob, regarding him in
+perplexity for a while, suddenly saw that this was a joke, and on the
+way to the mill he snickered a score of times. Queer chap, this
+Wallingford; rich, no doubt, and smart as a whip; and something
+mysterious about him, too!</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford found Jonas Bubble in flour-sifted garments in his office,
+going over a dusty file of bills.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Mr. Bubble,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I have been down to your swamp and have
+investigated its possibilities. I am now prepared, since I have
+secured the right to purchase this land, to confide to you the
+business search in which I have for some time been engaged, and which
+now, I hope, is concluded. Do you know, Mr. Bubble, the valuable
+deposit I think I have found in my swamp?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221; ejaculated Bubble, stricken solemn by the confidential tone.
+&#8220;What is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford took a long breath, swelling out his already broad chest,
+and, leaning over most impressively, tapped his compelling finger upon
+Jonas Bubble&#8217;s knee. Then said he, with almost tragic earnestness:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Black Mud!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jonas Bubble drew back astounded, eying Wallingford with affrighted
+incredulity. He had thought this young man sane.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Black&mdash;&#8221; he gasped; &#8220;black&mdash;&#8221; and then hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Mud!</i>&#8221; finished Wallingford for him, more impressively than before.
+&#8220;High and low, far and near, Mr. Bubble, I have searched for a deposit
+of this sort. Wherever there was a swamp I have been, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>but never until
+I came to Blakeville did I find what I believe to be the correct
+quality of black mud.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Black mud,&#8221; repeated Jonas Bubble meaninglessly, but awed in spite of
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Etruscan</i> black mud,&#8221; corrected Wallingford. &#8220;The same rare earth
+out of which the world famous Etruscan pottery is manufactured in the
+little village of Etrusca, near Milan, Italy. The smallest objects of
+this beautiful jet-black pottery retail in this country from ten
+dollars upward. With your permission I am going to express some
+samples of this deposit to the world-famous pottery designer, Signor
+Vittoreo Matteo, formerly in charge of the Etruscan Pottery, but who
+is now in Boston waiting with feverish impatience for me to find a
+suitable deposit of this rare black mud. If I have at last found it,
+Mr. Bubble, I wish to congratulate you and Blakeville, as well as
+myself, upon the acquisition of an enterprise which will not only
+reflect vast credit on your charming and progressive little town, but
+will bring it a splendid accession of wealth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bubble rose from his chair and shook hands with young Wallingford
+in great, though pompous, emotion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My son,&#8221; said he, &#8220;go right ahead. Take all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>of it you want&mdash;that
+is,&#8221; he hastily corrected himself, &#8220;all you need for experimental
+purposes.&#8221; For, he reflected, there was no need to waste any of the
+rare and valuable Etruscan black mud. &#8220;I think I&#8217;ll go with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d be pleased to have you,&#8221; said Wallingford, as, indeed, he was.</p>
+
+<p>On the way, Wallingford stopped at Hen Moozer&#8217;s General Merchandise
+Emporium and Post-Office, where he bought a large tin pail with a
+tight cover, a small tin pail and a long-handled garden trowel which
+he bent at right angles; and seven people walked off of Hen Moozer&#8217;s
+porch into the middle of the street to see the town magnate and the
+resplendent stranger, driven by the elated Bob Ranger, whirl down
+Maple Street toward Jonas Bubble&#8217;s swamp.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived there, who so active in direction as Jonas Bubble?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bob,&#8221; he ordered, protruding his girth at least three inches beyond
+its normal position, &#8220;hitch those horses and jump over in the field
+here with us. Mr. Wallingford, you will want this sample from
+somewhere near the center of the swamp. Bob, back yonder beyond that
+clump of bushes you will find <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>that old flatboat we had right after
+the big rainy season. Hunt around down there for a long pole and pole
+out some place near the middle. Take this shovel and dig down and get
+mud enough to fill these two buckets.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Bob stood unimpressed. It was not an attractive task.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And Bob,&#8221; added Wallingford mildly, &#8220;here&#8217;s a dollar, and I know
+where there&#8217;s another.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; said Bob with the greatest of alacrity, and he hurried back to
+where the old flatboat, water-soaked and nearly as black as the swamp
+upon which it rested, was half submerged beyond the clump of bushes.
+When, after infinite labor, he had pushed that clumsy craft afloat
+upon the bosom of the shallow swamp, Mr. Bubble was on the spot with
+infinite direction. He told Bob, shouting from the shore, just where
+to proceed and how, down to the handling of each trowelful of dripping
+mud, and even to the emptying of each small pailful into the large
+pail.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know exactly how I&#8217;ll get this boxed for shipping,&#8221; hinted
+Wallingford, as Bob carried the pail laboriously back to the buggy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Right down at the mill,&#8221; invited Mr. Bubble with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>great cordiality.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll have my people look after it for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s very kind of you,&#8221; replied Wallingford. &#8220;I&#8217;ll give you the
+address,&#8221; and upon the back of one of his own cards he wrote: Sig.
+Vittoreo Matteo, 710 Marabon Building, Boston, Mass., U. S. A., care
+Horace G. Daw.</p>
+
+<p>That night he wrote a careful letter of explanation to Horace G. Daw.</p>
+
+<p>Two weeks to wait. Oh, well, Wallingford could amuse himself by
+working up a local reputation. It was while he was considering this,
+upon the following day, that a farmer with three teeth drove up in a
+dilapidated spring-wagon drawn by a pair of beautiful bay horses, and
+stopped in front of Jim Ranger&#8217;s livery and sales stable to talk hay.
+Wallingford, sitting in front of the hotel in lazy meditation, walked
+over and examined the team with a critical eye. They were an exquisite
+match, perfect in every limb, with manes and tails and coats of that
+peculiar silken sheen belonging to perfect health and perfect care.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very nice team you have,&#8221; observed Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Finest match team anywhere,&#8221; agreed Abner <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>Follis, plucking at his
+gray goatee and mouthing a straw, &#8220;an&#8217; I make a business o&#8217; raisin&#8217;
+thoroughbreds. Cousins, they are, an&#8217; without a blemish on &#8217;em. An&#8217;
+trot&mdash;you&#8217;d ought to see that team trot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;ll you take for them?&#8221; asked Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>The response of Abner Follis was quick and to the point. He kept a
+careful appraisement upon all his live stock.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seven hundred and fifty,&#8221; said he, naming a price that allowed ample
+leeway for dickering.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost a disappointment to him that Wallingford produced his
+wallet, counted over the exact amount that had been asked, and said
+briefly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Unhitch them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well!&#8221; said Abner, slowly taking the money and throwing away his
+straw in petulance. It was dull and uninteresting to have a bargain
+concluded so quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford, however, knew what he was about. Within an hour everybody
+in town knew of his purchase. Speculation that had been mildly active
+concerning him now became feverish. He was a rich nabob with money to
+throw away; had so much money that he would not even dicker in a horse
+deal&mdash;and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>this was the height of human recklessness in Blakeville.
+Wallingford, purchasing Jim Ranger&#8217;s new buggy and his best set of
+harness, drove to the Bubbles&#8217;, the eyed of all observers, but before
+he had opened the gate Mrs. Bubble was on the porch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jonas ain&#8217;t at home,&#8221; she shrilled down at him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know,&#8221; replied Wallingford; &#8220;but I came to see Miss Fannie.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s busy,&#8221; said Mrs. Bubble with forbidding loftiness. &#8220;She&#8217;s in
+the kitchen getting dinner.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford, however, strode quite confidently up the walk, and by the
+time he reached the porch Miss Fannie was in the door, removing her
+apron.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a pretty turnout!&#8221; she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a beauty,&#8221; agreed Wallingford. &#8220;I just bought it from Abner
+Follis.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I bet he beat you in the bargain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So long as I&#8217;m satisfied,&#8221; retorted Wallingford, smiling back at her,
+&#8220;I don&#8217;t see why we shouldn&#8217;t all be happy. Come on and take the first
+ride in it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at her stepmother dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m very busy,&#8221; she replied; &#8220;and I&#8217;d have to change my dress.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You look good enough just as you are,&#8221; he insisted. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>&#8220;Come right on.
+Mrs. Bubble can finish the dinner. I&#8217;ll bet she&#8217;s a better cook,
+anyhow,&#8221; and he laughed cordially.</p>
+
+<p>The remark was intended as a compliment, but Mrs. Bubble took distinct
+umbrage. This was, without doubt, a premeditated slur. Of course he
+knew that she had once been Mr. Bubble&#8217;s cook!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fannie can&#8217;t go,&#8221; she snapped.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford walked straight up to Mrs. Bubble, beaming down upon her
+from his overawing height; and for just one affrighted moment Fannie
+feared that he intended to uptilt her stepmother&#8217;s chin, or make some
+equally familiar demonstration. Instead, he only laughed down into
+that lady&#8217;s belligerent eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, she can,&#8221; he insisted with large persuasiveness. &#8220;You were young
+once yourself, Mrs. Bubble, and not so very long ago.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was not what he said, but his jovial air of secret understanding,
+that made Mrs. Bubble flush and laugh nervously and soften.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I reckon I can get along,&#8221; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Fannie, with a wondering glance at Wallingford, had already flown
+up-stairs, and J. Rufus set himself deliberately to be agreeable to
+Mrs. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>Bubble. When Fannie came tripping down again in an incredibly
+short space of time, having shaken herself out of one frock and into
+another with an expedition which surprised even herself, she found her
+stepmother actually giggling! And when the young couple drove away in
+the bright, shining new rig behind the handsome bays, Mrs. Bubble
+watched after them with something almost like wistfulness. She had
+been young herself, once&mdash;and not so very long ago!</p>
+
+<p>Opposite the Bubble swamp Wallingford stopped for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hope to be a very near neighbor of yours,&#8221; said he, waving his hand
+out toward the wonderful deposit of genuine Etruscan black mud. &#8220;Did
+your father tell you about the pottery studios which may be built
+here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a thing,&#8221; she confessed with a slightly jealous laugh. &#8220;Papa
+never tells us anything at home. We&#8217;ll hear it on the street, no
+doubt, as we usually do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your father is a most estimable man, but I fear he makes a grave
+mistake in not telling you about things,&#8221; declared Wallingford. &#8220;I
+believe in the value of a woman&#8217;s intuition, and if I were as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>closely
+related to you as your father I am sure I should confide all my
+prospects to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Fannie gave a little inward gasp. That serious tide in the talk,
+fraught with great possibilities, for which every girl longs and which
+every girl dreads, was already setting ashore.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You might get fooled,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Father don&#8217;t think any woman has
+very much gumption, and least of all me, since&mdash;since he married
+again.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I understand,&#8221; said Wallingford gently, and drove on. &#8220;Just to show
+you how <i>much</i> differently I look at things from your father, I&#8217;m
+going to tell you all about the black pottery project and see what you
+think of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon he explained to her in minute detail, a wealth of which came
+to him on the spur of the moment, the exact workings of the Etruscan
+pottery art. He painted for her, in the gray of stone and the yellow
+of face brick and the red of tiling, the beautiful studio buildings
+that were to be erected yonder facing the swamp; he showed her through
+cozy, cheerfully lighted apartments in those studios, where the best
+trained artists of Europe, under the direction of the wizard, Vittoreo
+Matteo, should execute ravishments of Etruscan black pottery; he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>showed her, as the bays pranced on, connoisseurs and collectors
+coming from all over the country to visit the Blakeville studios, and
+carrying away priceless gems of the ceramic art at incalculable
+prices!</p>
+
+<p>The girl drank in all these details with thirsty avidity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s splendid! Perfectly grand!&#8221; she assured him with vast
+enthusiasm, and in her memory was stored every precious word that this
+genius had said; and they were stored in logical order, ready to
+reproduce on the slightest provocation, which was precisely the result
+which Wallingford had intended to produce.</p>
+
+<p>It was nearing noon now, and making a <i>d&eacute;tour</i> by the railway road
+they drove up in front of the mill with the spanking bays just as
+Jonas Bubble was coming out of his office to go to dinner. Hilariously
+they invited him into the carriage, and in state drove him home.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford very wisely kept away from the Bubble home that afternoon
+and that evening, and by the next morning every woman in town had told
+all her men-folk about the vast Etruscan black pottery project!</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<h3>WALLINGFORD BEGINS TO UTILIZE THE WONDERFUL<br />
+ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>allingford was just going in to dinner when a tall, thin-visaged
+young lady, who might have been nearing thirty, but insisted on all
+the airs and graces of twenty, came boldly up to the Atlas Hotel in
+search of him, and, by her right of being a public character,
+introduced herself. She was Miss Forsythe, principal over one other
+teacher in the Blakeville public school; moreover, she was president
+of the Women&#8217;s Culture Club!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is about the latter that I came to see you, Mr. Wallingford,&#8221; she
+said, pushing back a curl which had been carefully trained to be
+wayward. &#8220;The Women&#8217;s Culture Club meets this coming Saturday
+afternoon at the residence of Mrs. Moozer. It just happens that we are
+making an exhaustive study of the Italian Renaissance, and we have
+nothing, <i>positively nothing</i>, about the renaissance of Italian
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>ceramics! I beg of you, Mr. Wallingford, I plead with you, to be our
+guest upon that afternoon and address us upon Etruscan Pottery.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford required but one second to adjust himself to this new
+phase. This was right where he lived. He could out-pretend anybody who
+ever made pretensions to having a pretense. He expanded his broad
+chest and beamed.</p>
+
+<p>He knew but little about art, being only the business man of the
+projected American Etruscan Black Pottery Studios, but he would be
+more than pleased to tell them that little. He would, in fact, be
+charmed!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t know how kind, how good you are, and what a treat your
+practical talk will be, I am sure,&#8221; gurgled Miss Forsythe, biting
+first her upper lip and then her lower to make them redder, and then,
+still gurgling, she swept away, leaving Wallingford chuckling.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after lunch he went over to the telegraph office and wired
+to the most exclusive establishment of its sort in New York:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Express three black pottery vases Etruscan preferred but
+most expensive you have one eighteen inches high and two
+twelve inches high am wiring <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>fifty dollars to insure
+transportation send balance <span class="smaller">C. O. D.</span></p></div>
+
+<p>Not the least of J. Rufus&#8217; smile was that inserted clause, &#8220;Etruscan
+preferred.&#8221; He had not the slightest idea that there was such pottery
+as Etruscan in the world, but his sage conclusion was that the big
+firm would think they had overlooked something; and his other clause,
+&#8220;most expensive you have,&#8221; would insure proper results. That night he
+wrote to Blackie Daw:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Whatever you do, don&#8217;t buy vase either twelve or eighteen
+inches high. Send one about nine.</p></div>
+
+<p>Saturday morning the package came, and the excess bill was two hundred
+and forty-five dollars, exclusive of express charges, all of which J.
+Rufus cheerfully paid. He had that box delivered unopened to the
+residence of Mrs. Henry Moozer. That afternoon he dressed himself with
+consummate care, his gray frock suit and his gray bow tie, his gray
+waistcoat and his gray spats, by some subtle personality he threw
+about them, conveying delicately the idea of an ardent art amateur,
+but an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>humble one, because he felt himself insufficiently gifted to
+take part in actual creation.</p>
+
+<p>Was Miss Forsythe there? Miss Forsythe was there, in her pink silk,
+with cascade after cascade of ruffled flounces to take away the
+appalling height and thinness of her figure. Was Mrs. Moozer there?
+Dimly discernible, yes, backed into a corner and no longer mistress of
+her own house, though ineffectually trying to assert herself above a
+determined leadership. Also were there Mrs. Ranger, who was trying
+hard to learn to dote; Mrs. Priestly, who prided herself on a marked
+resemblance to Madame Melba, and had a high C which shattered
+chandeliers; and Mrs. Hispin, whose troublesome mustache in nowise
+interfered with her mad passion for the collection of antiques, which,
+fortunately consisting of early chromos, could be purchased cheaply in
+the vicinity of Blakeville; and Mrs. Bubble, whose specialty was the
+avoidance of all subjects connected with domestic science. Many other
+equally earnest and cultured ladies flocked about J. Rufus, as bees
+around a buckwheat blossom, until the capable and masterly president,
+by a careful accident arranging her skirts so that one inch of silken
+hose was visible, tapped her little silver gavel for order.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p><p>There ensued the regular reports of committees, ponderous and grave in
+their frivolity; there ensued unfinished business&mdash;relating to a
+disputed sum of thirty-nine cents; there ensued new business&mdash;relating
+to a disputed flaw in the constitution; there ensued a discussion of
+scarcely repressed acidity upon the right of the president to
+interfere in committee work; and then the gurgling president&mdash;with
+many a reference to the great masters in Italian art, with a wide
+digression into the fields of ceramics in general and of Italian
+ceramics in particular, with a complete history of the plastic arts
+back to the ooze stage of geological formation&mdash;introduced the speaker
+of the day.</p>
+
+<p>J. Rufus, accepting gracefully his prominence, bowed extravagantly
+three times in response to the Chautauqua salute, and addressed those
+nineteen assembled ladies with a charming earnestness which did vast
+credit to himself and to the Italian ceramic renaissance. He invented
+for them on the spot a history of Etruscan pottery, a process of
+making it, a discovery of the wonderful Etruscan under-glaze, and the
+eye-moistening struggles and triumphs of the great Vittoreo Matteo
+from obscurity as a poor little barefooted Italian shepherd boy who
+was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>caught constructing wonderful figures out of plain mud.</p>
+
+<p>He regretted very much that he had been unable to secure, at such
+short notice, samples of the famous Etruscan pottery which this same
+Vittoreo Matteo had made famous, but he had secured the next best
+thing, and with renewed apologies to Mrs. Moozer, who had kindly
+consented to have a litter made upon her carpet, he would unpack the
+vases which had come that morning. With a fine eye for stage effect,
+Wallingford had had the covers of the boxes loosened, but had not had
+the excelsior removed. Now he had the box brought in and placed it
+upon the table, and then, from amid their careful wrappings, the
+precious vases were lifted!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221;&mdash;&#8220;How <i>ex</i>-quisite!&#8221;&mdash;&#8220;Bee-yewtiful!&#8221; Such was the chorus of the
+enraptured culture club.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford, smiling in calm triumph, was able to assure the almost
+fainting worshipers that these were but feeble substitutes for the
+exquisite creations that were shortly to be turned out in the studios
+that were to make Blakeville famous. Yes, he might now promise them
+that definitely! The matter was no longer one of conjecture. That very
+morning he had received an epoch-making letter <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>from the great
+Vittoreo Matteo! This letter he read. It fairly exuded with
+tears&mdash;warm, emotional, Latin tears of joy&mdash;over the discovery of this
+priceless, this glorious, this beatific black mud! Already the great
+Vittoreo was at work upon the sample sent him, modeling a vase after
+one of his own famous shapes of Etrusca. It would soon be completed,
+he would have it fired, and then he would send it to his dear friend
+and successful manager, so that he might himself judge how
+inexpressibly more than perfect was the wonderful mud of Blakeville.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/i279.jpg" class="ispace" width="500" height="276" alt="&#8220;How ex-quisite!&#8221;&mdash;&#8220;Bee-yewtiful!&#8221; chorused the
+culture club" title="" />
+<span class="caption">&#8220;How <i>ex</i>-quisite!&#8221;&mdash;&#8220;Bee-yewtiful!&#8221; chorused the
+culture club</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr. Wallingford was himself transported to nearly as ecstatic heights
+over the prospect as the redoubtable Vittoreo Matteo, and as a memento
+of this auspicious day he begged to present the largest of these vases
+to the Women&#8217;s Culture Club, to be in the keeping of its charming
+president. One of the smaller vases he begged to present to the
+hostess of the afternoon in token of the delightful hour he had spent
+in that house. The other he retained to present to a very gracious
+matron, the hospitality of whose home he had already enjoyed, and with
+whose eminent husband he had already held the most pleasant business
+relations; whereat Mrs. Jonas Bubble <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>fairly wriggled lest her confusion might not be seen or correctly
+interpreted.</p>
+
+<p>Close upon the frantic applause which followed these graceful gifts,
+pale tea and pink wafers were served by the Misses Priestly, Hispin,
+Moozer and Bubble, and the function was over except for the
+fluttering. Inadvertently, almost apparently quite inadvertently, when
+he went away, J. Rufus left behind him the crumpled <span class="smcap">C. O. D.</span> bill
+which he had held in his hand while talking. That night Blakeville,
+from center to circumference, was talking of nothing but the prices of
+Etruscan vases. Why, these prices were not only stupendous, they were
+impossible&mdash;and yet there was the receipted bill! To think that
+anybody would pay real money in such enormous dole for mere earthen
+vases! It was preposterous; it was incredible&mdash;and yet there was the
+bill! Visions of wealth never before grasped by the minds of the
+citizens of Blakeville began to loom in the immediate horizon of every
+man, woman and child, and over all these visions of wealth hovered the
+beneficent figure of J. Rufus Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>On Sunday J. Rufus, in solemn black frock-coat and shiny top hat,
+attended church. From church he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>went to the Bubble home, by the warm
+invitation of Jonas, for chicken dinner, and in the afternoon he took
+Miss Fannie driving behind the handsome bays. While she was making
+ready, however, he took Jonas Bubble in the rig and drove down to the
+swamp, where they paused in solemn, sober contemplation of that vast
+and beautiful expanse of Etruscan black mud. Mr. Bubble had, of
+course, seen the glowing letter of Vittoreo Matteo shortly after its
+arrival, and he was not unprepared for J. Rufus&#8217; urgency.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To-morrow,&#8221; said J. Rufus, as he swept his hand out over the swamp
+with pride of possession, &#8220;to-morrow I shall exercise my option;
+to-morrow I shall begin drainage operations; to-morrow I shall order
+plans prepared for the first wing of the Blakeville Etruscan Studios,&#8221;
+and he pointed out a spot facing the Bubble mansion. &#8220;Only one thing
+worries me. In view of the fact that we shall have a large pay-roll
+and handle considerable of ready cash, I regret that Blakeville has no
+bank. Moreover, it grates upon me that the thriving little city of my
+adoption must depend on a smaller town for all its banking facilities.
+Why don&#8217;t you start a bank, Mr. Bubble, and become its president? If
+you will start <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>a subscription list to-morrow I&#8217;ll take five thousand
+dollars&#8217; worth of stock myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>To become the president of a bank! That was an idea which had not
+previously presented itself to the pompous Mr. Bubble, but now that it
+had arrived it made his waistband uncomfortable. Well, the town needed
+a bank, and a bank was always profitable. His plain civic duty lay
+before him. President Bubble, of the Blakeville Bank; or, much better
+still, the Bubble Bank! Why not? He was already the most important man
+in the community, and his name carried the most weight. President
+Bubble, of the Bubble Bank! By George! It was a good idea!</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, a clean, clear deed and title to forty acres of Jonas
+Bubble&#8217;s black mud was recorded in the Blake County court-house, and
+J. Rufus went to the city, returning with a discreet engineer, who
+surveyed and prodded and waded, and finally installed filtration boxes
+and a pumping engine; and all Blakeville came down to watch in solemn
+silence the monotonous jerks of the piston which lifted water from the
+swamp faster than it flowed in. For hours they stood, first on one
+foot and then on the other, watching the whir of the shining
+fly-wheel, the exhaust of the steam, the smoke of the stack, and the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>gushing of the black water through the big rubber nozzle to the
+stream which had heretofore merely trickled beneath the rickety wooden
+road culvert. It watched in awed silence the slow recession of waters,
+the appearance of unexpected little lakes and islands and slimy
+streams in the shining black bottom of that swamp.</p>
+
+<p>On the very day, too, that this work was installed, there came from
+Vittoreo Matteo, in Boston, the Etruscan vase. Wallingford, opening it
+in the privacy of his own room, was intensely relieved to find that
+Blackie had bought one of entirely different shape and style of
+decoration from those he had already shown, and he sent it immediately
+to the house of Mrs. Hispin, where that week&#8217;s meeting of the Women&#8217;s
+Culture Club was being held. He followed it with his own impressive
+self to show them the difference between the high-grade Etruscan ware
+and the inferior ware he had previously exhibited. He placed the two
+pieces side by side for comparison. Though they had been made by the
+same factory, the ladies of the Women&#8217;s Culture Club one and all could
+see the enormous difference in the exquisiteness of the under-glaze.
+The Etruscan ware was infinitely superior, and just think! this
+beautiful <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>vase was made from Blakeville&#8217;s own superior article of
+black mud!</p>
+
+<p>Up in Hen Moozer&#8217;s General Merchandise Emporium and Post-Office
+Wallingford arranged for a show window, and from behind its dusty
+panes he had the eternal pyramid of fly-specked canned goods removed.
+In its place he constructed a semi-circular amphitheater of pale blue
+velvet, bought from Moozer&#8217;s own stock, and in its center he placed
+the priceless bit of Etruscan ware, the first splendid art object from
+the to-be-famous Blakeville Etruscan studios!</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, Jonas Bubble had found willing subscribers to the
+stock of the Bubble Bank, and already was installing an impregnable
+vault in his vacant brick building at the intersection of Maple Avenue
+and Blake Street. By this time every citizen had a new impulse of
+civic pride, and vast commercial expansion was planned by every
+business man in Blakeville. Even the women felt the contagion, and it
+was one of the sorrows of Miss Forsythe&#8217;s soul that her vacation
+arrangements had already been made for the summer, and that she should
+be compelled to go away even for a short time, leaving all this
+inspiriting progress behind her. It would be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>just like Mrs. Moozer to
+take advantage of the situation! Mrs. Moozer was vice-president of the
+Women&#8217;s Culture Club.</p>
+
+<p>The Bubble County Bank collected its funds, took possession of its new
+quarters and made ready for business. Jonas Bubble, changing his
+attire to a frock suit for good and all, became its president. J.
+Rufus had also been offered an office in the bank, but he declined. A
+directorship had been urged upon him, but he steadfastly refused, with
+the same firmness that he had denied to Jonas Bubble a share in his
+pottery or even his drainage project. No, with his five thousand
+dollars&#8217; worth of stock he felt that he was taking as great a share as
+a stranger might, with modesty, appropriate to himself in their
+municipal advancement. Let the honors go to those who had grown up
+with the city, and who had furnished the substantial nucleus upon
+which their prosperity and advancement might be based.</p>
+
+<p>He intended, however, to make free use of the new banking facilities,
+and by way of showing the earnestness of that intention he drew from
+his New York bank half of the sum he had cleared on his big
+horse-racing &#8220;frame up,&#8221; and deposited these funds in the Bubble Bank.
+True enough, three days <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>after, he withdrew nearly the entire amount
+by draft in favor of one Horace G. Daw, of Boston, but a week later he
+deposited a similar amount from his New York bank, then increased that
+with the amount previously withdrawn in favor of Horace G. Daw. A few
+days later he withdrew the entire account, replaced three-fourths of
+it and drew out one-half of that, and it began to be talked about all
+over the town that Wallingford&#8217;s enterprises were by no means confined
+to his Blakeville investments. He was a man of large financial
+affairs, which required the frequent transfer of immense sums of
+money. To keep up this rapid rotation of funds, Wallingford even
+borrowed money which Blackie Daw had obtained in the same horse-racing
+enterprise. Sometimes he had seventy-five thousand dollars in the
+Bubble Bank, and sometimes his balance was less than a thousand.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, J. Rufus allowed no opportunities for his reputation
+to become stale. In the Atlas Hotel he built a model bath-room which
+was to revert to Jim Ranger, without money and without price, when
+Wallingford should leave, and over his bath-tub he installed an
+instantaneous heater which was the pride and delight of the village.
+It cost him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>a pretty penny, but he got tenfold advertising from it.
+By the time this sensation had begun to die he was able to display
+drawings of the quaint and pretty vine-clad Etruscan studio, and to
+start men to digging trenches for the foundations!</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GREAT VITTOREO MATTEO, MASTER OF BLACK<br />
+MUD, ARRIVES! BRAVA! HE DEPARTS! BRAVA!</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">O</span>ne day a tall, slender, black-haired, black-mustached and black-eyed
+young man, in a severely ministerial black frock suit, dropped off the
+train and inquired in an undoubted foreign accent for the Atlas Hotel.
+Even the station loungers recognized him at once as the great and
+long-expected artist, Signor Vittoreo Matteo, who, save in the one
+respect of short hair, was thoroughly satisfying to the eye and
+imagination. Even before the spreading of his name upon the register
+of the Atlas Hotel, all Blakeville knew that he had arrived.</p>
+
+<p>In the hotel office he met J. Rufus. Instantly he shrieked for joy,
+embraced Wallingford, kissed that discomfited gentleman upon both
+cheeks and fell upon his neck, jabbering in most broken English his
+joy at meeting his dear, dear friend once more. In the privacy of
+Wallingford&#8217;s own room, Wallingford&#8217;s <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>dear Italian friend threw
+himself upon the bed and kicked up his heels like a boy, stuffing the
+corner of a pillow in his mouth to suppress his shrieks of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t I the regular buya-da-banan Dago for fair?&#8221; he demanded,
+without a trace of his choice Italian accent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Blackie,&#8221; rejoiced Wallingford, wiping his eyes, &#8220;I never met your
+parents, but I&#8217;ve a bet down that they came from Naples as ballast in
+a cattle steamer. But I&#8217;m afraid you&#8217;ll strain yourself on this. Don&#8217;t
+make it too strong.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll make Salvini&#8217;s acting as tame as a jointed crockery doll,&#8221;
+asserted Blackie. &#8220;This deal is nuts and raisins to me; and say, J.
+Rufus, your sending for me was just in the nick of time. Just got a
+tip from a post-office friend that the federal officers were going to
+investigate my plant, so I&#8217;m glad to have a vacation. What&#8217;s this new
+stunt of yours, anyhow?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a cinch,&#8221; declared Wallingford, &#8220;but I don&#8217;t want to scramble
+your mind with anything but the story of your own life.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>To his own romantic, personal history, as Vittoreo Matteo, and to the
+interesting fabrications about the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>world-famous Etruscan pottery, in
+the village of Etrusca, near Milan, Italy, Blackie listened most
+attentively.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; said he at the finish; &#8220;I get you. Now lead me forth to
+the merry, merry villagers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Behind the spanking bays which had made Fannie Bubble the envied of
+every girl in Blakeville, Wallingford drove Blackie forth. Already
+many of the faithful had gathered at the site of the Blakeville
+Etruscan Studios in anticipation of the great Matteo&#8217;s coming, and
+when the tall, black-eyed Italian jumped out of the buggy they fairly
+quivered with gratified curiosity. How well he looked the part! If
+only he had had long hair! The eyes of the world-famous Italian
+ceramic expert, however, were not for the assembled denizens of
+Blakeville; they were only for that long and eagerly desired deposit
+of Etruscan soil. He leaped from the buggy; he dashed through the gap
+in the fence; he rushed to the side of that black swamp, the edges of
+which had evaporated now until they were but a sticky mass, and said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, da g-r-r-a-a-n-da mod!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Forthwith, disregarding his cuffs, disregarding his rings,
+disregarding everything, he plunged both <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>his white hands into that
+sticky mass and brought them up dripping-full of that precious
+material&mdash;the genuine, no, better than genuine, Etruscan black mud!</p>
+
+<p>A cheer broke out from assembled Blakeville. This surely was artistic
+frenzy! This surely was the emotional temperament! This surely was the
+manner in which the great Italian black-pottery expert <i>should</i> act in
+the first sight of his beloved black mud!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Da gr-r-r-r-r-a-a-n-da mod!&#8221; he repeated over and over, and drew it
+close to his face that he might inspect it with a near and loving eye.</p>
+
+<p>One might almost have thought that he was about to kiss it, to bury
+his nose in it; one almost expected him to jump into that pond and
+wallow in it, his joy at seeing it was so complete.</p>
+
+<p>It was J. Rufus Wallingford himself who, catching the contagion of
+this superb fervor, ran to the pail of drinking-water kept for the
+foundation workmen, and brought it to the great artist. J. Rufus
+himself poured water upon the great artist&#8217;s hands until those hands
+were free of their Etruscan coating, and with his own immaculate
+handkerchief he dried those deft and skilful fingers, while the great
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>Italian potter looked up into the face of his business manager with
+almost tears in his eyes!</p>
+
+<p>It was a wonderful scene, one never to be forgotten, and in the
+enthusiasm of that psychological moment Mrs. Moozer rushed forward.
+Mrs. Moozer, acting president of the Women&#8217;s Culture Club in the
+absence of Miss Forsythe, saw here a glorious opportunity; here was
+where she could &#8220;put one over&#8221; upon that all-absorptive young lady.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear Mr. Wallingford, you must introduce me at once!&#8221; she
+exclaimed. &#8220;I can not any longer restrain my impatience.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His own voice quavering emotions of several sorts, Wallingford
+introduced them, and Mrs. Moozer shook ecstatically the hand which had
+just caressed the dear swamp.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And so this is the great Matteo!&#8221; she exclaimed. &#8220;Signor, as acting
+president of the Women&#8217;s Culture Club, I claim you for an address upon
+your sublime art next Saturday afternoon. Let business claim you
+afterward.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hav&#8217;a&mdash;not da gooda Englis,&#8221; said Blackie Daw, with an
+indescribable gesture of the shoulders and right arm, &#8220;but whata
+leetle I cana say, I s&#8217;alla be amost aglad to tella da ladees.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p><p>Never did man enjoy himself more than did Blackie Daw. Blakeville went
+wild over this gifted, warmly temperamental foreigner. They dined him
+and they listened to his soul-satisfying, broken English with vast
+respect, even with veneration; the women because he was an artist, and
+the men because he represented vast money-earning capacity. Even the
+far-away president of the Women&#8217;s Culture Club heard of his advent
+from a faithful adherent, an anti-Moozer and pro-Forsythe member, and
+on Saturday morning J. Rufus Wallingford received a gushing letter
+from that enterprising lady.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My Dear Mr. Wallingford</span>:</p>
+
+<p>I have been informed that the great event has happened, and
+that the superb artist has at last arrived in Blakeville;
+moreover, that he is to favor the Women&#8217;s Culture Club, of
+which I have the honor to be president, with a talk upon
+his delightful art. I simply can not resist presiding at
+that meeting, and I hope it is not uncharitable toward Mrs.
+Moozer that I feel it my duty to do so; consequently I
+shall arrive in time, I trust, to introduce him; moreover,
+to talk with him in his own, limpid, liquid language. I
+have been, for the past month, taking phonograph lessons in
+Italian for this moment, and I trust that it will be a
+pleasant surprise to him to be addressed in his native
+tongue.</p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p><p>Wallingford rushed up-stairs to where Blackie was leisurely getting
+ready for breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Old scout,&#8221; he gasped, &#8220;your poor old mother in Italy is at the point
+of death, so be grief-stricken and hustle! Get ready for the next
+train out of town, you hear? Look at this!&#8221; and he thrust in front of
+Blackie&#8217;s eyes the fatal letter.</p>
+
+<p>Blackie looked at it and comprehended its significance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What time does the first train leave?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, but whatever time it is I&#8217;ll get you down to it,&#8221; said
+Wallingford. &#8220;This is warning enough for me. It&#8217;s time to close up and
+take my profits.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The next east-bound train found Blackie Daw and Wallingford at the
+station, and just as it slowed down, Blackie, with Wallingford helping
+him carry his grips, was at the steps of the parlor car. He stood
+aside for the stream of descending passengers to step down, and had
+turned to address some remark to Wallingford, when he saw that
+gentleman&#8217;s face blanch and his jaw drop. A second later a gauzy
+female had descended from the car and seized upon J. Rufus. Even as
+she turned upon him, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>Blackie felt the sinking certainty that this was
+Miss Forsythe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And this is Signor Matteo, I am sure,&#8221; she gushed. &#8220;You&#8217;re <i>not</i>
+going away!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; interposed Wallingford, &#8220;his grandmother&mdash;I mean his mother&mdash;in
+Genoa is at the point of death, and he must make a hasty trip. He will
+return again in a month.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, it is too bad, too bad indeed!&#8221; she exclaimed. &#8220;I sympathize with
+you, <i>so</i> deeply, Signor Matteo. Signor,...&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The dreaded moment had come, and Wallingford braced himself as Miss
+Forsythe, cocking her head upon one side archly, like a dear little
+bird, gurgled out one of her very choicest bits of phonograph Italian!</p>
+
+<p>Blackie Daw never batted an eyelash. He beamed upon Miss Forsythe, he
+displayed his dazzling white teeth in a smile of intense
+gratification, he grasped Miss Forsythe&#8217;s two hands in the fervor of
+his enthusiasm&mdash;and, with every appearance of lively intelligence
+beaming from his eyes, he fired at Miss Forsythe a tumultuous stream
+of utterly unintelligible gibberish!</p>
+
+<p>As his flow continued, to the rhythm of an occasional, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>warm, double
+handshake, Miss Forsythe&#8217;s face turned pink and then red, and when at
+last, upon the conductor&#8217;s signal, Blackie hastily tore himself away
+and clambered on board, waving his hand to the last and erupting
+strange syllables which had no kith or kin, Miss Forsythe turned to
+Wallingford, nearly crying.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is humiliating; it is <i>so</i> humiliating,&#8221; she admitted, trapped
+into confession by the suddenness of it all; &#8220;but, after all my weeks
+of preparation, I wasn&#8217;t able to understand one word of that
+beautiful, limpid Italian!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<h3>IN WHICH J. RUFUS GIVES HIMSELF THE SURPRISE<br />
+OF HIS LIFE</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>allingford had kept his finger carefully upon the pulse of the Bubble
+Bank by apparently inconsequential conversations with President
+Bubble, and he knew its deposits and its surplus almost to the dollar.
+Twice now he had checked out his entire account and borrowed nearly
+the face of his bank stock, on short time, against his mere note of
+hand, replacing the amounts quickly and at the same time depositing
+large sums, which he almost immediately checked out again.</p>
+
+<p>On the Saturday following Blackie Daw&#8217;s departure all points had been
+brought together: the drainage operation had been completed; walls had
+been built about the three springs which supplied the swamp; the
+foundation of the studio had been completed, and all his workmen paid
+off and discharged; and the surplus of the Bubble Bank had reached
+approximately its high-water mark.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p><p>On Sunday Wallingford, taking dinner with the Bubbles, unrolled a set
+of drawings, showing a beautiful Colonial residence which he proposed
+to build on vacant property he had that day bought, just east of Jonas
+Bubble&#8217;s home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good!&#8221; approved Jonas with a clumsily bantering glance at his
+daughter, who colored deliciously. &#8220;Going to get married and settle
+down?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You never can tell,&#8221; laughed Wallingford. &#8220;Whether I do or not,
+however, the building of one or several houses like this would be a
+good investment, for the highly paid decorators and modelers which the
+pottery will employ will pay good rents.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jonas nodded gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How easily success comes to men of enterprise and far-sightedness,&#8221;
+he declared with hearty approbation, in which there was mixed a large
+amount of self-complacency; for in thus complimenting Wallingford he
+could not but compliment himself.</p>
+
+<p>On Monday Wallingford walked into the Bubble Bank quite confidently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bubble, how much is my balance?&#8221; he asked, as he had done several
+times before.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Bubble, smiling, turned to his books.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Three thousand one hundred and sixty-two dollars and fifty-eight
+cents,&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I&#8217;m a pauper!&#8221; protested Wallingford. &#8220;I never could keep track
+of my bank balance. Well, that isn&#8217;t enough. I&#8217;ll have to borrow
+some.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess we can arrange that,&#8221; said Jonas with friendly, one might
+almost say paternal, encouragement. &#8220;How much do you want?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;ll have to have about forty-five thousand dollars, all told,&#8221;
+replied Wallingford in an offhand manner.</p>
+
+<p>He had come behind the railing, as he always did. He was leaning at
+the end of Mr. Bubble&#8217;s desk, his hands crossed before him. From his
+finger sparkled a big three-carat diamond; from his red-brown
+cravat&mdash;price three-fifty&mdash;sparkled another brilliant white stone
+fully as large; an immaculate white waistcoat was upon his broad
+chest; from his pocket depended a richly jeweled watch-fob. For just
+an instant Jonas Bubble was staggered, and then the recently imbibed
+idea of large operations quickly reasserted itself. Why, here before
+him stood a commercial Napoleon. Only a week or so before
+Wallingford&#8217;s bank balance had been sixty thousand dollars; at other
+times it had been even more, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>there had been many intervals
+between when his balance had been less than it was now. Here was a man
+to whom forty-five thousand dollars meant a mere temporary convenience
+in conducting operations of incalculable size. Here was a man who had
+already done more to advance the prosperity of Blakeville than any one
+other&mdash;excepting, of course, himself&mdash;in its history. Here was a man
+predestined by fate to enormous wealth, and, moreover, one who might
+be linked to Mr. Bubble, he hoped and believed, by ties even stronger
+than mere business associations.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pretty good sum, Wallingford,&#8221; said he. &#8220;We have the money, though,
+and I don&#8217;t see why we shouldn&#8217;t arrange it. Thirty-day note, I
+suppose?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, anything you like,&#8221; said Wallingford carelessly. &#8220;Fifteen days
+will do just as well, but I suppose you&#8217;d rather have the interest for
+thirty,&#8221; and he laughed pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, indeed,&#8221; Jonas replied, echoing the laugh. &#8220;You&#8217;re just in the
+nick of time, though, Wallingford. A month from now we wouldn&#8217;t have
+so much. I&#8217;m making arrangements not to have idle capital on hand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Idle money always yells at me to put it back into <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>circulation,&#8221; said
+Wallingford, looking about the desk. &#8220;Where are your note blanks?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Er&mdash;right here,&#8221; replied Mr. Bubble, drawing the pad from a drawer.
+&#8220;By the way, Wallingford, of course we&#8217;ll have to arrange the little
+matter of securities, and perhaps I&#8217;d better see the directors about a
+loan of this size.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, certainly,&#8221; agreed Wallingford. &#8220;As for security, I&#8217;ll just turn
+over to you my bank stock and a holding on the Etruscan property.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For one fleeting instant it flashed across Mr. Bubble&#8217;s mind that he
+had sold this very property to Wallingford for the sum of one thousand
+dollars; but a small patch of stony ground which had been worth
+absolutely nothing before the finding of gold in it had been known to
+become worth a million in a day, as Wallingford had once observed when
+looking across the great swamp, and now the mine he had sold to
+Wallingford for a song was worth almost any sum that might be named.
+Hen Moozer, when consulted, was of that opinion; Jim Ranger was of
+that opinion; Bud Hegler was of that opinion; the other directors were
+of that opinion; every one in Blakeville was of that opinion; so
+Wallingford got his forty-five thousand dollars, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>Bubble Bank
+held in return a mortgage on Wallingford&#8217;s bank stock, and on forty
+acres of genuine Etruscan black mud.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By the way, Mr. Bubble,&#8221; said Wallingford, tucking the bills of
+exchange into his pocket, &#8220;I&#8217;m going to take a little run into New
+York to-day. Would you mind putting the plans for my new house into
+the hands of the two contractors here for them to figure on?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With pleasure. Hope you have a good trip, my boy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Well, it was all over, but he was not quite so well satisfied as he
+had been over the consummation of certain other dubious deals.
+Heretofore he had hugely enjoyed the matching of his sharp wits
+against duller ones, had been contemptuous of the people he
+out-man&oelig;uvered, had chuckled in huge content over his triumphs; but
+in this case there was an obstacle to his perfect enjoyment, and that
+obstacle was Fannie Bubble. He was rather impatient about it.</p>
+
+<p>He started early for the train, instructing Bob Ranger to be there to
+drive back the bays, and drove around by way of Jonas Bubble&#8217;s house.
+As he was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>about to hitch his horses the door opened, and Fannie,
+dressed for the afternoon, but hatless, came flying out, her head bent
+and her hands back over it. She was crying, and was closely pursued by
+Mrs. Bubble, who brandished a feather duster, held by the feather end.
+Wallingford ran to open the gate as Fannie approached it, closing it
+and latching it in time to stop her stepmother.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s a lazy, good-for-nothing, frivolous huzzy!&#8221; declared Mrs.
+Bubble in hot wrath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been looking for just that kind,&#8221; asserted Wallingford. &#8220;She&#8217;ll
+do for me. Fannie, get into the buggy. I came down to take you for a
+ride to the depot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If she goes away from this house she don&#8217;t come back till she gets
+down on her knees and begs my forgiveness!&#8221; shrieked the woman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If she does that I&#8217;ll have her sent to a bugitorium,&#8221; declared
+Wallingford. &#8220;She don&#8217;t need to come back here. I&#8217;ll take care of her
+myself. You&#8217;ll go with me, won&#8217;t you, Fannie?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anywhere,&#8221; she said brokenly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then come on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Turning, he helped her into the buggy and they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>drove away, followed
+by the invectives of Mrs. Bubble. The girl was in a tumult of emotion,
+her whole little world clattering down about her ears. Bit by bit her
+story came out. It was sordid enough and trivial enough, but to her it
+was very real. That afternoon she had planned to go to the country for
+ferns with a few girls, and they were to meet at the house of one of
+her friends at one o&#8217;clock. Her stepmother had known about it three
+days in advance, and had given her consent. When the time came,
+however, she had suddenly insisted that Fannie stop to wash the
+dishes, which would have made her a half-hour late. There followed
+protest, argument, flat order and as flat refusal&mdash;then the handle of
+the feather duster. It was not an unusual occurrence for her
+stepmother to slap her, Fannie admitted in her bitterness. Her father,
+pompous enough outside, was as wax in the hands of his termagant
+second wife, and, though his sympathies were secretly with the girl,
+he never dared protect her.</p>
+
+<p>They had driven straight out the west road in the excitement, but
+Wallingford, remembering in time his train schedule, made the
+straightest <i>d&eacute;tour</i> possible to the depot. He had barely time to buy
+his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>tickets when the train came in, and he hurried Fannie into the
+parlor car, her head still in a whirl and her confusion heightened by
+the sudden appreciation of the fact that she had no hat. The stop at
+Blakeville was but a brief one, and as the train moved away Fannie
+looked out of the window and saw upon the platform of the little
+depot, as if these people were a part of another world entirely, the
+station agent, the old driver of the dilapidated &#8217;bus, Bob Ranger and
+others equally a part of her past life, all looking at her in
+open-mouthed astonishment. Turning, as the last familiar outpost of
+the town slipped by, she timidly reached out her hand and laid it in
+that of Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>The touch of that warm hand laid on his electrified Wallingford. Many
+women had loved him, or thought they did, and he had held them in more
+or less contempt for it. He had regarded them as an amusement, as toys
+to be picked up and discarded at will; but this, somehow, was
+different. A sudden and startling resolve came to him, an idea so
+novel that he smiled over it musingly for some little time before he
+mentioned it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By George!&#8221; he exclaimed by and by; &#8220;I&#8217;m going to marry you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Indeed!&#8221; she exclaimed in mock surprise, and laughed happily. &#8220;The
+way you said it sounded so funny.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was perfectly content.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<h3>WALLINGFORD GIVES HIMSELF STILL ANOTHER<br />
+STUPENDOUS SURPRISE</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">M</span>rs. Wallingford, gowned and hatted and jeweled as Fannie Bubble had
+never been, and had never expected to be, tried the luxurious life
+that J. Rufus affected and found that she liked it. She was happy from
+day&#8217;s end to day&#8217;s end. Her husband was the most wonderful man in the
+world, flawless, perfect. Immediately upon their arrival in the city
+he had driven in hot haste for a license, and they were married before
+they left the court-house. Then he had wired the news to Jonas Bubble.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We start on our honeymoon at once,&#8221; he had added, and named their
+hotel.</p>
+
+<p>By the time they had been shown to the expensive suite which
+Wallingford had engaged, a reply of earnest congratulation had come
+back from Jonas Bubble. The next day had begun the delights of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>shopping, of automobile rides, of the races, the roof gardens, the
+endless round of caf&eacute;s. This world was so different, so much brighter
+and better, so much more pleasant in every way than the world of
+Blakeville, that she never cared to go back there&mdash;she was ashamed to
+confess it to herself&mdash;even to see her father!</p>
+
+<p>Blackie Daw, still keeping out of the way of federal officers who knew
+exactly where to find him, met J. Rufus on the street a week after his
+arrival, and, learning from him of his marriage to Fannie, came around
+to Wallingford&#8217;s hotel to &#8220;look her over.&#8221; Fannie marveled at Signor
+Matteo&#8217;s rapid advance in English, especially his quick mastery of the
+vernacular, but she found him very amusing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You win,&#8221; declared Blackie with emphasis, when he and Wallingford had
+retired to a cozy little corner in the bar caf&eacute;. Fannie had inspired
+in him the awed respect that men of his stamp always render to good
+women. &#8220;You certainly got the original prize package. You and I are
+awful skunks, Jim.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She makes me feel that way, too, now and then,&#8221; admitted Wallingford.
+&#8220;I&#8217;d be ashamed of myself for marrying her if I hadn&#8217;t taken her from
+such a dog&#8217;s life.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;She seems to enjoy this one,&#8221; said Blackie. &#8220;You&#8217;re spending as much
+money on her as you used to on Beauty Phillips.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just about,&#8221; agreed Wallingford. &#8220;However, papa-in-law is paying for
+the honeymoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does he know it?&#8221; asked Blackie.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not yet,&#8221; he admitted. &#8220;I&#8217;d like to see him when he finds it out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Blackie also grinned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That little Blakeville episode was the happiest period of my life,&#8221;
+he declared. &#8220;By the way, J. Rufus, what was your game down there? I
+never understood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As simple as a night-shirt,&#8221; explained Wallingford. &#8220;I merely hunted
+through the postal guide for the richest little town I could find that
+had no bank. Then I went there and had one started so I could borrow
+its money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Blackie nodded comprehendingly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you bought a piece of property and raised it to a fictitious
+value to cover the loan,&#8221; he added. &#8220;Great stunt; but it seems to me
+they can get you for it. If they catch you up in one lie they can
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>prove the whole thing to have been a frame-up. Suppose they find
+out?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford swelled up with righteous indignation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Vittoreo Matteo,&#8221; he charged, &#8220;you are a rascally scoundrel! I met
+you in New York and you imposed upon me with a miserable pack of lies.
+I have investigated and I find that there is no Etrusca, near Milan,
+Italy, no Etruscan black pottery, no Vittoreo Matteo. You induced me
+to waste a lot of money in locating and developing a black mud-swamp.
+When you had gained my full confidence you came to me in Blakeville
+with a cock-and-bull story that your mother was dying in Genoa, and on
+the strength of that borrowed a large sum of money from me. You are
+gone&mdash;I don&#8217;t know where. I shall have to make a clean breast of this
+matter to Jonas Bubble, and tell him that if I can not pay that note
+when it falls due he will have to foreclose. You heartless villain!
+Waiter, ice us another bottle of that ninety-three.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When Wallingford returned to his wife he found her very thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When are we going to Blakeville, Jim?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p><p>He studied her curiously for a moment. She would have to know him some
+time or other. He had hoped to put it off while they were leading this
+unruffled existence, but now that the test had come he might as well
+have it over with.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not going back,&#8221; he declared. &#8220;I&#8217;m through with Blakeville.
+Aren&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she admitted, pondering it slowly. &#8220;I could be happy here
+always, or, if not here, wherever you are. But your business back
+there, Jim?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have no business there,&#8221; he told her. &#8220;My business is concluded. I
+borrowed forty-five thousand dollars on that forty acres of sticky
+mud, and I think I&#8217;ll just let the bank foreclose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him a moment, dry-eyed and dry-lipped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re joking,&#8221; she protested, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not at all,&#8221; he seriously assured her.</p>
+
+<p>They looked at each other steadily for some moments, and gradually
+Wallingford saw beneath those eyes a spirit that he might conquer,
+but, having conquered, would always regret.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s&mdash;it&#8217;s a swindle!&#8221; she gasped, as the true situation <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>began to
+dawn upon her. &#8220;You don&#8217;t mean, Jim, that you are a swindler!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, I wouldn&#8217;t call it that,&#8221; he objected, considering the matter
+carefully. &#8220;It is only rather a shrewd deal in the game of business.
+The law can&#8217;t touch me for it unless they should chase down Vittoreo
+Matteo and find him to be a fraud, <i>and prove that I knew it</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She was thoughtful a long time, following the intricate pattern of the
+rug in their sitting-room with the toe of her neatly-shod foot. She
+was perfectly calm, and he drew a sharp breath of relief. He had
+expected a scene when this revelation should come; he was more than
+pleased to find that she was not of the class which makes scenes.
+Presently she looked up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you thought of what light this puts me in at home? Have you
+thought how I should be regarded in the only world I have ever known?
+Why, there are a thousand people back in Blakeville who know me, and
+even if I were never to meet one of them again&mdash;Jim, it mustn&#8217;t be!
+You must not destroy my self-respect for ever. Have you spent any of
+that money?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Well, no,&#8221; he reluctantly replied. &#8220;I have plenty of money besides
+that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good!&#8221; said she with a gasp of relief. &#8220;Write father that, as you
+will be unable to carry out your projects, you are sending him the
+money to take up that note.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford was silent a long time. Wonderful the influence this girl
+had over him. He was amazed at himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t remember when I ever gave up any money,&#8221; he finally said,
+with an attempt at lightness; &#8220;but, Fannie, I think I&#8217;ll do it just
+this once&mdash;for you&mdash;as a wedding present.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll do it right away, won&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Right this minute.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He walked over and stooped down to kiss her. She held up her lips
+submissively, but they were cold, and there was no answering pressure
+in them. Silently he took his hat and started down-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By the way,&#8221; he said, turning at the door, &#8220;I&#8217;m going to make your
+father a present of that bay team.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He scarcely understood himself as he dictated to the public
+stenographer a letter to Jonas Bubble, so far different from the one
+he had planned to write. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>It was not like him to do this utterly
+foolish thing, and yet, somehow, he felt that he could not do
+otherwise. When he came back up-stairs again, the letter written and a
+check inclosed in it and the whole mailed, he found her in the same
+chair, but now she was crying. He approached her hesitantly and stood
+looking down at her for a long, long time. It was, perhaps, but one
+minute, but it seemed much longer. Now was the supreme test, the
+moment that should influence all their future lives, and he dreaded to
+dissolve that uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p>He knelt beside her and put his arm about her. Still crying, she
+turned to him, threw both arms around his neck and buried her head on
+his shoulder&mdash;and as she cried she pressed him more tightly to her!</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+<h3>CASTING ABOUT FOR A STRAIGHT BUSINESS, PATENT<br />
+MEDICINE PROVIDES THE ANSWER</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>hat was a glorious honeymoon! They traveled from one gay summer
+resort to another, and when Fannie expressed the first hint of
+fatigue, Wallingford, who had grown to worship her, promptly provided
+her with complete and unique rest, by taking her to some one of the
+smaller inland cities of the type which he loved, installing her in a
+comfortable hotel, and living, for a week or so, a quiet, lazy
+existence consisting largely of mere eating and sleeping, and just
+enough exercise to keep in good health. In all this time there was not
+one jarring thought, one troubled moment, nor one hint of a shadow. J.
+Rufus took his wife into all sorts of unique experiences, full of life
+and color and novelty, having a huge pride in her constant wonder and
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p>It happened, while upon one of these resting sojourns, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>that they one
+night paused on the edge of a crowd which stood gaping at a patent
+medicine faker. Suddenly recognizing an old acquaintance in the
+picturesque orator with the sombrero and the shoulder-length gray
+hair, Wallingford drew closer.</p>
+
+<p>Standing behind the &#8220;doctor,&#8221; upon the seat of his carriage where the
+yellow light of a gasolene torch flared full upon it, was a gaudy,
+life-size anatomical chart, and with this as bait for his moths he was
+extolling the virtues of Quagg&#8217;s Peerless Sciatacata.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here, my friends,&#8221; he declared, unfolding one of the many hinged
+flaps of the gory chart, &#8220;you <i>bee</i>-hold the intimate relation of the
+stomach with all the <i>inn</i>-ternal organs, and above all with the
+blood, which, pumped by the heart through these <i>abb</i>-sorbing
+membranes, takes up that priceless tonic, Doctor Quagg&#8217;s Peerless
+Sciatacata. This, acting <i>dii</i>-rectly upon the red corpuscles of the
+vital fluid, <i>stimm</i>-ulates the circulation and carries its
+germ-destroying properties to every atom of the human frame, casting
+off <i>imm</i>-purities, <i>clean</i>-sing the syst-<i>em</i>, bringing
+<i>ee</i>-lasticity to the footsteps, hope to the heart, the ruddy glow of
+bounding health to pale cheeks, and the sparkle of new life to tired
+and jaded eyes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford turned to his wife with a chuckle,</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Just stand here a minute, Fannie,&#8221; said he. &#8220;I must wade in and speak
+to the old scout. We stopped a week at the same hotel over in New
+Jersey and got as chummy as two cell-mates.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Fannie smiled doubtfully in response, and watched her husband with a
+slight trace of concern as he forced his way through the crowd and up
+to the wheel of the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How are you, Doctor?&#8221; said he, holding up his plump palm. &#8220;Where are
+you stopping?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The doctor&#8217;s wink at J. Rufus was scarcely perceptible to that large
+young gentleman himself, much less to the bystanders, as with
+professional gravity he reached down for a hearty handshake.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Benson House. Come around and see me to-morrow morning.&#8221; Then, with
+added gravity and in a louder voice: &#8220;I scarcely knew you, friend, you
+are so changed. How many bottles of the Sciatacata was it you took?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Four,&#8221; replied J. Rufus clearly, with not even a twinkle in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only four bottles,&#8221; declaimed Doctor Quagg. &#8220;My friends, this is one
+of my most marvelous cures. When I met this gentleman in Columbus,
+Ohio, he was a living skeleton, having suffered for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>years from
+sciatic rheumatism. He bought from me one night at my carriage, just
+as he is standing now, six bottles of the Peerless Sciatacata. He took
+but four bottles, and look at him to-day!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With one accord they looked. There was some slight tittering among
+them at first, but the dignity and gravity with which the towering J.
+Rufus, hale and hearty and in the pink of condition, withstood that
+inspection, checked all inclination to levity. Moreover, he was
+entirely too prosperous-looking to be a &#8220;capper.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I owe you my life, Doctor,&#8221; said Wallingford gratefully. &#8220;I never
+travel without those other two bottles of the Sciatacata,&#8221; and with
+the air of a debt of honor paid, he pressed back through the crowd to
+the sidewalk.</p>
+
+<p>His wife was laughing, yet confused.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see how you can make yourself so conspicuous,&#8221; she protested
+in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221; he laughed. &#8220;We public characters must boost one another.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And the price,&#8221; they heard the doctor declaiming, &#8220;is only one dollar
+<i>per</i> bottle, or six for five dollars, guar-<i>an</i>-teed not only to
+drive sciatic rheumatism from the sys-<i>tem</i>, but to cure the most
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>ob-<i>stin</i>-ate cases of ague, Bright&#8217;s disease, cat-a-lepsy, coughs,
+colds, cholera, <i>dys</i>-pepsia, ery-<i>sip</i>-<i>e</i>-las, fever <i>and</i> chills,
+<i>gas</i>-tritis&#8221;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And so on down to X Y Z, etc.,&#8221; commented Wallingford as they walked
+away.</p>
+
+<p>His wife looked up at him curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jim, did you honestly take four bottles of that medicine?&#8221; she wanted
+to know.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Take it?&#8221; he repeated in amazement. &#8220;Certainly not! It isn&#8217;t meant
+for wise people to take. It wouldn&#8217;t do them any good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It wouldn&#8217;t do anybody any good,&#8221; she decided with a trace of
+contempt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Guess again,&#8221; he advised her. &#8220;That dope has cured a million people
+that had nothing the matter with &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the Hotel Deriche in the adjoining block they turned into the huge,
+garishly decorated dining-room for their after-theater supper. They
+had been in the town only two days, but the head waiter already knew
+to come eagerly to meet them, to show them to the best table in the
+room, and to assign them the best waiter; also the head waiter himself
+remained to take the order, to suggest a delicate, new dish and to
+name over, at Wallingford&#8217;s <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>solicitation, the choice wines in the
+cellar that were not upon the wine-list.</p>
+
+<p>This little formality over, Wallingford looked about him complacently.
+A pale gentleman with a jet-black beard bowed to him from across the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor Lazzier,&#8221; observed Wallingford to his wife. &#8220;Most agreeable
+chap and has plenty of money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He bent aside a little to see past his wife&#8217;s hat, and exchanged a
+suave salutation with a bald-headed young man who was with two ladies
+and who wore a dove-gray silk bow with his evening clothes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Young Corbin,&#8221; explained Wallingford, &#8220;of the Corbin and Paley
+department store. He had about two dollars a week spending money till
+his father died, and now he and young Paley are turning social
+flip-flaps at the rate of twenty a minute. He belongs to the Mark
+family and he&#8217;s great pals with me. Looks good for him, don&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jim,&#8221; she said in earnest reproval, &#8220;you mustn&#8217;t talk that way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course I&#8217;m only joking,&#8221; he returned. &#8220;You know I promised you I&#8217;d
+stick to the straight and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>narrow. I&#8217;ll keep my word. Nothing but
+straight business for me hereafter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He, too, was quite serious about it, and yet he smiled as he thought
+of young Corbin. Another man, of a party just being shown to a table,
+nodded to him, and Mrs. Wallingford looked up at her husband with
+admiration.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Honestly, how do you do it?&#8221; she inquired. &#8220;We have only been here a
+little over forty-eight hours, and yet you have already picked up a
+host of nice friends.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I patronize only the best saloons,&#8221; he replied with a grin; then,
+more seriously: &#8220;This is a mighty rich little city, Fannie. I could
+organize a stock company here, within a week, for anything from a
+burglar&#8217;s trust to a church consolidation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a pretty place,&#8221; she admitted. &#8220;I like it very much from what I
+have seen of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Looks like a spending town,&#8221; he returned; &#8220;and where they spend a wad
+they&#8217;re crazy to make one. Give me one of these inland society towns
+for the loose, long green. New York&#8217;s no place to start an honest
+business,&#8221; and again he chuckled. &#8220;By the way, Fannie,&#8221; he added after
+a pause, &#8220;what <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>do you think of my going into the patent medicine
+line?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you mean?&#8221; she inquired, frowning.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, on a big scale,&#8221; he replied. &#8220;Advertise it big, manufacture it
+big.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She studied it over in musing silence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mind what you do so long as it is honest,&#8221; she finally said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good. I&#8217;ll hunt up Quagg to-morrow and spring it on him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t mean that dreadful quack medicine he&#8217;s selling on the
+street, do you?&#8221; she protested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not? I don&#8217;t know that it&#8217;s worthless, and I do know that Quagg
+has sold it on street corners for twenty years from coast to coast. He
+goes back to the same towns over and over, and people buy who always
+bought before. Looks like a good thing to me. Quagg was a regular
+doctor when he was a kid; had a real diploma and all that, but no
+practice and no patience. Joke. Giggle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The oysters came on now, and they talked of other things, but while
+they were upon the meat Doctor Lazzier, having finished, came across
+to shake hands with his friend of a day, and was graciously charmed to
+meet Mrs. Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Sit down,&#8221; invited J. Rufus. &#8220;Won&#8217;t you try a glass of this? It&#8217;s
+very fair,&#8221; and he raised a practised eyebrow to the waiter.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor delicately pushed down the edge of the ice-wet napkin until
+he could see the label, and he gave an involuntary smile of
+satisfaction as he recognized the vintage. The head waiter had timed
+the exact second to take that bottle out of the ice-pail, had wrapped
+the wet napkin about it and almost reverently filled glasses.
+Occasionally he came over and felt up inside the hollow on the bottom
+of the bottle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Delighted,&#8221; confessed the doctor, and sat down quite comfortably.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may smoke if you like, Doctor,&#8221; offered Mrs. Wallingford,
+smiling. &#8220;I don&#8217;t seem to feel that a man is comfortable unless he is
+smoking.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To tell the truth, he isn&#8217;t,&#8221; agreed the doctor with a laugh, and
+accepting a choice cigar from Wallingford he lit it.</p>
+
+<p>The waiter came with an extra glass and filled for all three of them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By the way, Doctor,&#8221; said Wallingford, watching the pouring of the
+wine with a host&#8217;s anxiety, &#8220;I think of going into the patent medicine
+business <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>on a large scale, and I believe I shall have to have you on
+the board of directors.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Couldn&#8217;t think of it!&#8221; objected the doctor hastily. &#8220;You know,
+professional ethics&mdash;&#8221; and he shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s so,&#8221; admitted Wallingford. &#8220;We can&#8217;t have you on the board,
+but we can have you for a silent stock-holder.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Open to the same objection,&#8221; declared the doctor, with another
+dubious shrug, as he took up his glass.</p>
+
+<p>He tasted the wine; he took another sip, then another&mdash;slow, careful
+sips, so that no drop of it should hasten by his palate unappreciated.
+Wallingford did not disturb him in that operation. He had a large
+appreciation himself of the good things of this world, and the proper
+way to do them homage.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor took a larger sip, and allowed the delicate liquid to flow
+gently over his tongue. Wallingford was really a splendid fellow!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What sort of patent medicine are you going to manufacture?&#8221; asked the
+doctor by way of courtesy, but still &#8220;listening&#8221; to the taste of the
+wine.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t just decided as yet,&#8221; he announced. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>&#8220;The medicine is only
+an incident. What we&#8217;re going to invest in is advertising.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; replied the doctor, laughing in turn.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Advertising is a great speculation,&#8221; went on Wallingford, with a
+reminiscent smile. &#8220;Take Hawkins&#8217; Bitters, for instance; nine per
+cent. cheap whisky flavored with coffee and licorice, and the balance
+pure water. Hawkins had closed a fifty-thousand-dollar advertising
+contract before he was quite sure whether he was going to sell patent
+medicine or shoe polish. The first thing he decided on was the name,
+and he had to do that in a hurry to get his advertising placed.
+Hawkins&#8217; Bitters was familiar to ten million people before a bottle of
+it had been made. It was only last summer that Hawkins sold out his
+business for a cool two million and went to Europe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;His decoction is terrible stuff,&#8221; commented the doctor, more in
+sorrow than in anger; &#8220;but it certainly has a remarkable sale.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should say it has!&#8221; agreed Wallingford. &#8220;The drug-stores sell it to
+temperance people by the case, and in the dry states you&#8217;ll find every
+back yard littered with empty Hawkins&#8217; Bitters bottles.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A half-dozen entertaining stories of the kind <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>Wallingford told his
+guest, and by the time he was through Doctor Lazzier began himself to
+have large visions of enormous profits to be made in the
+patent medicine business. Somehow, the very waistcoat of young J.
+Rufus seemed, in its breadth and gorgeousness, a guarantee of enormous
+profits, no matter what business he discussed. But the doctor&#8217;s very
+last remark was upon the sacredness of medical ethics! When he was
+gone there was a conspicuous silence between Wallingford and his wife
+for a few minutes, and then she asked:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jim, are you actually going to start a patent medicine company?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Certainly I am,&#8221; he replied.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And will Doctor Lazzier take stock in it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He certainly will,&#8221; he assured her. &#8220;I figure him for from ten to
+twenty-five thousand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+<h3>IN WHICH WALLINGFORD ORGANIZES THE DOCTOR<br />
+QUAGG PEERLESS SCIATACATA COMPANY</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">A</span>t the Benson House J. Rufus found Doctor Quagg with a leg propped up
+on a chair, and himself in a state of profound profanity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter, Doc?&#8221; asked Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sciatic rheumatism!&#8221; howled the martyr. &#8220;It&#8217;s gettin&#8217; worse every
+year. Every time I go on the street for a night I know I&#8217;m goin&#8217; to
+suffer. That&#8217;s why I keep it up so late and spiel myself hoarse in the
+neck. I jumped into town just yesterday and got a reader from these
+city hall pirates. They charged me twenty-five iron men for my license
+for the week. I go out and make one pitch, and that&#8217;s all I get for my
+twenty-five.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sciatic rheumatism&#8217;s a tough dose,&#8221; commiserated Wallingford. &#8220;Why
+don&#8217;t you take five or six bottles of the Peerless Sciatacata?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The answer to this was a storm of fervid expletives which needed no
+diagram. Wallingford, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>chuckling, sat down and gloated over the
+doctor&#8217;s misery, lighting a big, fat cigar to gloat at better ease. He
+offered a cigar to Quagg.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I daresn&#8217;t smoke,&#8221; swore that invalid.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I suppose you daresn&#8217;t drink, either,&#8221; observed Wallingford.
+&#8220;Well, that doesn&#8217;t stop me, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wearily the doctor indicated a push-button.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll have to ring for a boy yourself,&#8221; said he.</p>
+
+<p>When the boy came Wallingford ordered a highball.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And what&#8217;s yours, sir?&#8221; asked the boy, turning to the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lithia, you bullet-headed nigger!&#8221; roared the doctor with a twinge of
+pain in his leg. &#8220;That&#8217;s twice to-day I&#8217;ve had to tell you I can&#8217;t
+drink anything but lithia. Get out!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The boy &#8220;got,&#8221; grinning.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seriously, though, old man,&#8221; said Wallingford, judging that the
+doctor had been aggravated long enough, &#8220;your condition must be very
+bad for business, and I&#8217;ve come to make you a proposition to go into
+the manufacture of the Peerless on a large scale.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p><p>The doctor sat in silence for a moment, shaking his head despondently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t get spielers,&#8221; he declared. &#8220;I&#8217;ve tried it. Once I made up
+a lot of the Sciatacata and sent out three men; picked the best I
+could find that had made good with street-corner pitches in other
+lines, and their sales weren&#8217;t half what mine would be; moreover, they
+got drunk on the job, didn&#8217;t pay for their goods, and were a nuisance
+any way you took &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t mean that we should manufacture the priceless remedy for
+street fakers to handle,&#8221; he explained. &#8220;I propose to start a big
+factory to supply drug-stores through the jobbing trade, to spend a
+hundred thousand dollars in advertising right off the bat, give you
+stock in the company for the use of your formula, and a big salary to
+superintend the manufacture. That will do away with your exposure to
+the night air, stop the increase of your sciatica, and make you more
+money. Why, Doc, just to begin with we&#8217;ll give you ten thousand
+dollars&#8217; worth of stock.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It took Doctor Quagg some time to recover from the shock of that much
+money.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve heard of such things,&#8221; said he gratefully, &#8220;but I never supposed
+it could happen to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t need to put up a cent,&#8221; went on Wallingford. &#8220;And I don&#8217;t
+need to put up a cent. We&#8217;ll use other people&#8217;s money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where are you going to get your share?&#8221; asked the doctor
+suspiciously. &#8220;Are you going to have a salary, too?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Wallingford. &#8220;We&#8217;ll pay you thirty-five dollars to start
+with as superintendent of the manufacturing department, but I won&#8217;t
+ask for a salary; I&#8217;ll take a royalty of one cent a bottle as manager
+of the company. I&#8217;ll take five thousand dollars&#8217; worth of stock for my
+services in promotion, and then for selling the stock I&#8217;ll take
+twenty-five per cent. of the par value for all I place, but will take
+it out in stock at the market rate. We&#8217;ll organize for half a million
+and begin selling stock at fifty cents on the dollar, and I&#8217;ll
+guarantee to raise for us one hundred and twenty-five thousand net
+cash&mdash;twenty-five thousand for manufacturing and one hundred thousand
+for advertising.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The doctor drew a long breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you can do that you&#8217;re a wonder,&#8221; he declared; &#8220;but it don&#8217;t seem
+to me you&#8217;re taking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>enough for yourself. You&#8217;re giving me ten
+thousand dollars and you&#8217;re only taking five; you&#8217;re giving me
+thirty-five dollars a week and you&#8217;re only taking a cent a bottle. It
+seems to me the job of organizing and building up such a company is
+worth as much as the Sciatacata.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you worry about me,&#8221; protested J. Rufus modestly. &#8220;I&#8217;ll get
+along all right. I&#8217;m satisfied. We&#8217;ll organize the company to-day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t get all that money together in a day!&#8221; exclaimed the doctor
+in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no; I don&#8217;t expect to try it. I&#8217;ll put up all the money
+necessary. We want five directors, and we have three of them now, you
+and my wife and I. Do you know anybody around the hotel that would
+serve?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The doctor snorted contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nobody that&#8217;s got any money or responsibility,&#8221; he asserted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They don&#8217;t need to have any money, and we don&#8217;t want them to have any
+responsibility,&#8221; protested Wallingford. &#8220;Anybody of voting age will do
+for us just now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said the doctor reflectively, &#8220;the night clerk&#8217;s a pretty good
+fellow, and the head dining-room <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>girl here has always been mighty
+nice to me. She&#8217;s some relation to the proprietor and she&#8217;s been here
+for five years.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good,&#8221; said Wallingford. &#8220;I&#8217;ll telephone out for a lawyer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was no telephone in the room, but down-stairs Wallingford found
+a pay &#8217;phone and selected a lawyer at random from the telephone
+directory. Within two hours Wallingford and his wife, Doctor Quagg,
+Albert Blesser and Carrie Schwam had gravely applied for a charter of
+incorporation under the laws of the state, for The Doctor Quagg
+Peerless Sciatacata Company, with a capital stock of one thousand
+dollars, fully paid in. As he signed his name the doctor laughed like
+a school-boy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I&#8217;m going to get my hair cut.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford stopped him in positive fright.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you dare do it!&#8221; he protested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that hair necessary to the business?&#8221; asked the doctor,
+crestfallen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Absolutely,&#8221; declared Wallingford. &#8220;Why, man, that back curtain of
+yours is ten per cent. dividends.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then I&#8217;ll wear it,&#8221; agreed the doctor resignedly; &#8220;but I hate to. You
+know I&#8217;ve honed for years <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>to quit this batting around the country,
+and just ached to wear short hair and a derby hat like a white man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford looked at the weather-bronzed face and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What a pity that would be!&#8221; he declared. &#8220;However, Doc, your
+wanderings cease from this minute, and your salary begins from
+to-day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fine,&#8221; breathed the doctor. &#8220;I say, Wallingford, then suppose you
+order me about three gross of bottles and some fresh labels. I&#8217;ll get
+the drugs myself and start in making a supply of the Sciatacata.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You just nurse your leg,&#8221; advised Wallingford. &#8220;Why, man, when we
+start manufacturing the Peerless it will be in vats holding a hundred
+gallons, and will be bottled by machinery that will fill, cork and
+label a hundred bottles a minute. You&#8217;re to superintend mixing; that&#8217;s
+your job.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It took many days, days of irksome loafing for the doctor, before they
+had their final incorporation papers. Immediately they elected
+themselves as directors, made Quagg president, Wallingford secretary
+and Albert Blesser treasurer, and voted for an increase of
+capitalization to one-half million <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>dollars. They gave Quagg his
+hundred shares and Wallingford his fifty; they voted Quagg his salary
+and Wallingford his royalty; also they voted Wallingford an honorarium
+of twenty-five per cent., payable in stock, for disposing of such of
+the treasury shares as they needed issued, and immediately
+Wallingford, who had spent the interim in cultivating acquaintances,
+began to secure investors.</p>
+
+<p>He sold more than mere stock, however. He sold Doctor Quagg&#8217;s hair and
+sombrero; he sold glowing word pictures of immense profits, and he
+sold the success of all other patent medicine companies; he sold
+his own imposing height and broad chest, his own jovial smile and
+twinkling eye, his own prosperous grooming and good feeding&mdash;and those
+who bought felt themselves blessed.</p>
+
+<p>First of all, he sold fifty thousand dollars&#8217; worth for twenty-five
+thousand to young Corbin, whereupon Mr. Blesser, as per instructions,
+resigned from the treasurership and directorate in favor of Mr.
+Corbin. Wallingford got fifteen thousand dollars from Doctor
+Lazzier, and ten from young Paley, and with fifty thousand dollars
+in the treasury sent for an advertising man and gave out a
+hundred-thousand-dollar contract.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;For the first half of this campaign,&#8221; he explained to the advertising
+man, &#8220;I want this one ad spread everywhere: &#8216;Laugh at That Woozy
+Feeling.&#8217; This is to cover the top half of the space in good, plain,
+bold letters. In place of leaving the bottom blank for kids to
+scribble reasons of their own why you should laugh at that woozy
+feeling, we&#8217;ll put gray shadow-figures there&mdash;grandpa and grandma and
+pa and ma and Albert and Henry and Susan and Grace and little Willie,
+all laughing fit to kill. And say, have it a real laugh. Have it the
+sort of a laugh that&#8217;ll make anybody that looks at it want to be
+happy. Of course, later, I want you to cover up the bottom half of
+that advertisement with: &#8216;Use Doctor Quagg&#8217;s Peerless Sciatacata,&#8217; or
+something like that, but I&#8217;ll furnish you the copy for that when the
+time comes. It will be printed right over the laughing faces.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It should make a very good ad,&#8221; commented the agent with enthusiasm,
+writing out the instructions Wallingford gave him, and willing to
+approve of anything for that size contract.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford went home to his wife, filled with a virtuous glow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know, there&#8217;s something I like about this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>straight business,
+Fannie,&#8221; said he. &#8220;It gives a fellow a sort of clean feeling. I&#8217;m
+going to build up a million-dollar business and make everybody
+concerned in it rich, including myself. Already I&#8217;ve placed one
+hundred thousand dollars&#8217; worth of stock, have fifty thousand dollars
+cash in the treasury, and fifty-five thousand dollars&#8217; worth of stock
+for myself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought you were to get only twenty-five per cent. for selling the
+stock.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He chuckled; shoulders, chest and throat, eyes and lips and chin, he
+chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Twenty-five per cent. of the par value,&#8221; said he, &#8220;payable in stock
+at the market price.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see the difference,&#8221; she protested. &#8220;I&#8217;m sure I thought it
+was to be straight twenty-five per cent., and I&#8217;m sure all the members
+of the company thought so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He patiently explained it to her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you see, if I sell one hundred thousand dollars&#8217; worth of
+stock, I get the same as twenty-five thousand dollars for it, and with
+that buy fifty thousand dollars&#8217; worth of stock? Of course I get it at
+the same price as others&mdash;fifty per cent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Did they understand you&#8217;d get fifty thousand instead of twenty-five
+thousand?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>He chuckled again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If they didn&#8217;t they will,&#8221; he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>She pondered over that thoughtfully for a while.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that straight business?&#8221; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course it&#8217;s straight business or I wouldn&#8217;t be doing it. It is
+perfectly legitimate. You just don&#8217;t understand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; she confessed, &#8220;I guess I don&#8217;t; only I thought it was just
+twenty-five per cent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is twenty-five per cent.,&#8221; he insisted, and then he gave it up.
+&#8220;You&#8217;d better quit thinking,&#8221; he advised. &#8220;It&#8217;ll put wrinkles in your
+brow, and I&#8217;m the one that has the wrinkles scheduled. I&#8217;ve just
+contracted for one hundred thousand dollars&#8217; worth of advertising, and
+I&#8217;ve got to go out to sell enough stock to bring in the cash. Also,
+I&#8217;ve rented a factory, and to-morrow I&#8217;m going to let out contracts
+for bottling machinery, vats and fixtures. I&#8217;ve already ordered the
+office furniture. You ought to see it. It&#8217;s swell. I&#8217;m having some
+lithographed stationery made, too, embossed in four colors, with a
+picture of Doctor Quagg in the corner.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How much stock has the doctor?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Ten thousand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that all he&#8217;s going to have?&#8221; she wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, certainly, that&#8217;s all he&#8217;s going to have. I made the bargain
+with him and he&#8217;s satisfied.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ten thousand dollars&#8217; worth out of a half-million-dollar corporation?
+Why, Jim, for his medicine, upon which the whole business is built, he
+only gets&mdash;how much is that of all of it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One fiftieth, or two per cent.,&#8221; he told her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Two per cent.!&#8221; she gasped. &#8220;Is that straight business, Jim?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course it&#8217;s straight business,&#8221; he assured her. &#8220;Of course,&#8221; and
+he smiled, &#8220;Doc didn&#8217;t stop to figure that he only gets two per cent.
+of the profits of the concern. He figures that he&#8217;s to draw dividends
+on the large hunk of ten thousand dollars&#8217; worth of stock, and he&#8217;s
+satisfied. Why aren&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; she replied slowly, still with the vague feeling that
+something was wrong. &#8220;Really, Jim, it don&#8217;t seem to me that straight
+business is any more fair than crooked business.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford was hugely disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And that&#8217;s all the appreciation I get for confining <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>myself to the
+straight and narrow!&#8221; he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I didn&#8217;t mean that, Jim,&#8221; she said, with instant contrition. &#8220;You
+don&#8217;t know how glad I am that now, since we&#8217;re married, you have
+settled down to honorable things; and you&#8217;ll make a fortune, I know
+you will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You bet I will,&#8221; he agreed. &#8220;In the meantime I have to go out and dig
+up seventy-five thousand dollars more of other people&#8217;s money to put
+into this concern; <i>which will give me another seventy-five thousand
+dollars&#8217; worth of stock</i>! Straight business pays, Fannie!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+<h3>DOCTOR QUAGG PROVES THAT STRAIGHT BUSINESS IS A<br />
+DELUSION AND A SNARE</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">W</span>ithin a short time Wallingford had the satisfaction of seeing
+bill-boards covered with his big sign ordering the public to &#8220;Laugh at
+That Woozy Feeling,&#8221; but not yet telling them how to do it, and he
+heard people idly wondering what the answer to that advertisement was
+going to be. Some of them resented having puzzles of the sort thrust
+in front of their eyes, others welcomed it as a cheerful diversion.
+Wallingford smiled at both sorts. He knew they would remember, and
+firmly link together the mystery and the solution. Cards bearing the
+same mandate stared down at every street-car rider, and newspaper
+readers found it impossible to evade the same command. All this
+advertising, for the appearance of which Wallingford had waited,
+helped him to sell the stock to pay for itself, and, in the meantime,
+he was busy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>putting into his new factory a bottling plant, second in
+its facility if not its capacity, to none in the country. He installed
+magnificent offices and for the doctor prepared an impressive private
+apartment, this latter being a cross between an alchemist&#8217;s laboratory
+and a fortune-teller&#8217;s oriental <i>salon</i>; but alas and alack! the first
+day the doctor walked into his new office he had his hair
+close-cropped and wore a derby, with such monstrous effect that even
+Wallingford, inured as he was to most surprises, recoiled in horror!</p>
+
+<p>From that moment the doctor became a hard one to manage. His first
+protest was against the Benson House, the old-fashioned, moderate-rate
+hotel which he had always patronized and had always recommended
+wherever he went. Thereafter he changed boarding-houses and family
+hotels about every two weeks; but he never had his hair cut after the
+once. The big mixing vats that Wallingford installed he grew to hate.
+He was used to mixing his Sciatacata in a hotel water-pitcher and
+filling it into bottles with a tin funnel; and to mix up a hundred
+gallons at a time of that precious compound seemed a cold, commercial
+proposition which was so much a sacrilege that he went out and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>&#8220;painted the town,&#8221; winding up in a fight with a cigar-store Indian.
+He left such a train of fireworks in his wake that Wallingford heard
+of it for weeks afterward.</p>
+
+<p>To J. Rufus the affair was a good joke, but to the other gentlemen of
+the company, Corbin, Paley and Doctor Lazzier and the others who had
+social reputations to maintain as well as business interests to guard,
+the affair was tragic, not merely because one of their number had
+become intoxicated, but that it should be this particular one, and
+that he should make himself so conspicuous! The doctor repeated his
+escapade within a week. This time he took a notion to &#8220;circulate&#8221; in a
+cab, and as he got more mellow, insisted upon sitting up with the
+driver, where he whooped sonorously every time they turned a corner.
+This time he finished in the hands of the police, and Wallingford was
+called upon at three o&#8217;clock in the morning to bail him out. Friends
+of Corbin and Paley and the other exclusives whom Wallingford had
+selected as his stock-holders began to drop in on them with pleasant
+little remarks about their business associate. The doctor had been
+bragging widely about his connection with them!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p><p>His crowning effort came when he continued his celebration of one
+night through the next day, and drove around to make a few party
+calls. He appeared like a specter of disgrace in Corbin&#8217;s private
+office with:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, old pal, come out and have a drink!&#8221; and gave Corbin a hearty
+slap on the back.</p>
+
+<p>Corbin gave a helpless glance across at the three prim young ladies on
+the other side of his open screen. Back of him a solemn-visaged old
+bookkeeper, who was both a deacon and Sunday-school superintendent,
+looked on in shocked amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Couldn&#8217;t begin to think of it, Doctor,&#8221; protested Corbin nervously,
+pulling at his lavender cravat, while the perspiration broke out upon
+his bald spot. &#8220;I must attend to business, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind the business!&#8221; insisted the doctor. &#8220;Wait till our
+Sciatacata factory is shipping in car-loads, partner, and you can
+afford to give this junk-shop away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Paley, happening in to speak to Corbin, created a diversion welcome to
+Corbin but unwelcome to himself, for the doctor immediately pounced
+upon Paley and insisted upon taking him out to get a drink, and the
+only way that narrow-framed young <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>man could get rid of him was to go
+along. He rode around in the cab with him for a while, and tried to
+dissuade him from calling upon Doctor Lazzier and the other
+stock-holders, but Quagg was obdurate. To wind up the evening&#8217;s
+performance he appeared on a prominent street corner about nine
+o&#8217;clock, in a carriage with the gasolene torch and the life-size
+anatomical chart, and began selling the Peerless Sciatacata, calling
+upon the names of Wallingford, Lazzier, Corbin and Paley&mdash;his
+&#8220;partners&#8221;&mdash;as guarantees of his sincerity and standing, and as
+sureties of the excellence of the priceless compound.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford heard about him quickly, for the picturesque Quagg had
+become a public joy and all the down-town crowd knew well about him.
+Wallingford went down to the corner with the intention of putting a
+stop to the exhibition, but, as he looked at the doctor, whose hair
+now dropped beneath his sombrero to nearly its old-time length, a new
+thought struck him and he went quietly away. The next day Corbin
+withdrew from the treasurership and Paley from the directorate, and
+every one of the directors who had taken the places of the original
+incorporators did likewise. Intimate relationship <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>with the doctor was
+productive of too much publicity for peaceful enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>It was just at this time that the agent of the advertising concern
+began to bother Wallingford for &#8220;copy&#8221; on the last half of his
+contract. Wallingford, to placate him, finished paying for the
+contract and took the cash discount, but held the agent off two or
+three days in the matter of the &#8220;copy.&#8221; He was not quite satisfied
+about the wording of the advertisement. He sat up late one night
+devising the most concise and striking form in which to present the
+merits of Doctor Quagg&#8217;s Peerless Sciatacata, and in the morning he
+went down to the office prepared to mail the result of his labor. He
+found upon his desk this note from the restless Doctor Quagg:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Spring&#8217;s here. I never stayed in one place so long in my
+life. You can have my salary and you can have my ten
+thousand dollars&#8217; worth of stock. I don&#8217;t want it. My
+hair&#8217;s out good and long again and I&#8217;ve gone back on the
+road to sell the Sciatacata.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 2em;">Yours truly,</span></p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Quagg</span>.</span></p></div>
+
+<p>It was the last straw, and the stock-holders&#8217; meeting which
+Wallingford hastily called wore the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span>greenish pallor peculiar to
+landlubbers in their first sea storm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We don&#8217;t need Quagg,&#8221; Wallingford protested. &#8220;Our contract with him
+covers any rights he has in the title of the medicine, and the mere
+fact that he is not with us does not need to prevent our going ahead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you the formula for his preparation?&#8221; asked Doctor Lazzier
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no,&#8221; replied Wallingford carelessly. &#8220;I don&#8217;t see that that need
+stop us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221; protested young Corbin. &#8220;Our whole business is built upon
+that formula.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We simply must stick to the Sciatacata,&#8221; resumed Wallingford. &#8220;We
+have all this fine stationery printed, with the full name of the
+Peerless dope; we have elaborate booklets and circulars about it, and
+the first delivery of ten thousand labels is here. There will be no
+trouble in getting up another Peerless Sciatacata which will at least
+be harmless, but I think that we can do even better than that. I think
+that Doctor Lazzier can furnish us a good, handy, cheap prescription
+for sciatic rheumatism.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Certainly not,&#8221; protested Doctor Lazzier with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>vast professional
+indignation; but he nevertheless winked at Wallingford.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind,&#8221; said Wallingford to Corbin; &#8220;I&#8217;ll get the formula all
+right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For my part I&#8217;m willing to sell my stock at ten per cent.,&#8221; said
+Corbin with infinite disgust. He was thinking at that very moment of a
+gaudy &#8220;function&#8221; he was to attend that night, one marking quite an
+advance in his social climb, and he almost dreaded to go. &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+like to lose money, but, in this case, I&#8217;d really rather. This is a
+dreadful experience.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The rest of them agreed with young Corbin in attitude, if not in
+words, and it was with considerable sadness that they dispersed, after
+having decided, somewhat reluctantly, that Wallingford should go ahead
+with the Sciatacata. Pursuing this plan Wallingford sent away the copy
+for the bottom half of the great woozy-feeling advertisement.</p>
+
+<p>The following afternoon, however, came the death-blow, in the shape of
+a most hilarious article in the local papers. In a neighboring city
+Doctor Quagg had gone out to sell the Peerless Sciatacata, had been
+caught in a drizzle of spring rain and had been sent, raving angry, to
+the hospital with a most <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>severe case of sciatic rheumatism. The joke
+of it was too good. The local papers, as a mere kindly matter of news
+information, published a list of the stock-holders of the Doctor Quagg
+Peerless Sciatacata Company.</p>
+
+<p>Wallingford, with that item before him, sat and chuckled till the
+tears quivered on his eyelashes; but, even in the midst of his
+appreciation of the fun in the case, he wired to the agent of the
+advertising company to cancel his previous letter of instructions, and
+to secure him at least a week&#8217;s grace before forfeiture of the
+contract; then he proceeded quietly to telephone the stock-holders. He
+found great difficulty in getting the use of his line, however, for
+the stock-holders were already calling him up, frantically, tearfully,
+broken-heartedly. They were all ruined through their connection with
+the Sciatacata!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you, Fannie,&#8221; said he at dinner, after pondering over a new
+thought which would keep obtruding itself into his mind, &#8220;this thing
+of training a straight business down to weight is no merry quip. It&#8217;s
+more trouble and risk than my favorite game of promoting for revenue
+only.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You keep right on at it, Jim,&#8221; she insisted. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>&#8220;You&#8217;ll find there is
+ever so much more satisfaction in it in the end.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He was moody all through dinner. They had tickets for the theater that
+night and they went, but here, too, Wallingford was distrait, and he
+could not have remembered one incident of the play until during the
+last act, when his brow suddenly cleared. When they went back to the
+hotel he led his wife into the dining-room, and, excusing himself for
+a moment, went to the telegraph desk and sent a telegram to Horace G.
+Daw, of Boston.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+
+<h3>IN WHICH YOU ARE TOLD HOW TO LAUGH AT THAT<br />
+WOOZY FEELING</h3>
+
+<p class="n"><span style="float:left;font-size:40px;line-height:25px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:1px;">T</span>wo days later Wallingford called a conclave of the stock-holders to
+meet one Hamilton G. Dorcas, of Boston, who had come to consider
+taking over the property of the Doctor Quagg Peerless Sciatacata
+Company. Quite hopefully Doctor Lazzier, young Corbin, young Paley and
+the others attended that meeting for the disposal of the concern which
+had already eaten up one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in
+good cash; but when they began talking with Mr. Dorcas they were not
+quite so extravagantly hopeful. Mr. H. G. Dorcas was a tall, thin,
+black-haired, black-eyed and black-mustached young man in ministerial
+clothing, who looked astonishingly like Horace G. Daw, if any one of
+them had previously known that young gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I have been through your factory,&#8221; said Mr. Dorcas <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>in a businesslike
+manner, &#8220;and all I find here of any value to me is your second-hand
+bottling machinery and vats and your second-hand office furniture. For
+those I am prepared to pay you a reasonable second-hand price; say,
+about fifteen thousand dollars.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was young Corbin who put up the loudest protest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, man, such an offer is preposterous! Besides the twenty-five
+thousand invested in the machinery, fixtures and other expenses, we
+have spent exactly a hundred thousand dollars in advertising.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dorcas shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What good will that do me?&#8221; he retorted. &#8220;It&#8217;s wasted.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Deep silence followed. The stock-holders knew that a hundred thousand
+had actually been paid out for advertising which, of course, was now
+of no value whatever. Only Wallingford knew that, the contract not
+being completed, part of it could be rebated, though only a small
+part, but he was not saying anything. Temptation had caught up with
+Wallingford, had wrestled with him and overthrown him!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; admitted young Paley with a long, long sigh, &#8220;all that
+advertising money is wasted.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Young Corbin was figuring.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Dorcas,&#8221; said he, &#8220;if you will increase your offer by two
+thousand dollars I am inclined to accept it and get out of this muddle
+once and for all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dorcas himself figured very carefully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is stretching a point with you,&#8221; said he, &#8220;but I&#8217;ll give it to
+you. Understand, though, that is the last cent.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I am not in favor of it,&#8221; declared Wallingford, thereby putting
+himself upon the proper side for future reference. &#8220;It leaves us with
+a net cash loss of one hundred and eight thousand dollars. I&#8217;m in
+favor of rigging up some other patent medicine and going right ahead
+with the business. A slight assessment on our stock, or an agreement
+to purchase <i>pro rata</i>, among ourselves, a small amount of the
+treasury stock in order to raise about twenty-five thousand dollars
+more, will put us in shape to go ahead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>If he intended to encourage them he had gone the wrong way about it.
+They recoiled as one man from that thought. Young Corbin jumped to his
+feet.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;You may count me out,&#8221; he declared.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor Lazzier,&#8221; pleaded Wallingford, &#8220;you are in favor of this
+course?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By no means,&#8221; said he. &#8220;A lot of my friends are &#8216;on,&#8217; and some of my
+patients are laughing at me. I can&#8217;t afford it. Take this man&#8217;s offer.
+Wait just a minute.&#8221; He rose to his feet. &#8220;I&#8217;ll make that a formal
+motion,&#8221; and he did so.</p>
+
+<p>With no dissenting voice, except Wallingford&#8217;s, that motion was
+carried through, and Wallingford spread it upon the minute-books at
+once. Also a committee was appointed formally to close the business
+with Mr. Dorcas, and to transfer to that gentleman, at once, all the
+properties, rights and good-will of the company.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gentlemen, I am very sorry,&#8221; said Wallingford, much crestfallen in
+appearance. &#8220;I still protest against giving up, but I blame myself for
+coaxing you into this unfortunate affair.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t mention it,&#8221; protested Doctor Lazzier, shaking hands. &#8220;You
+meant to do us a favor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They all agreed with the doctor, and young Corbin felt especially
+sorry for Wallingford&#8217;s contrition.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p><p>Immediately after the dispersal of the meeting Mr. Wallingford and
+&#8220;Mr. Dorcas&#8221; shook hands ecstatically.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Blackie, you&#8217;re handier than a hollow cane in Drytown,&#8221; exulted
+Wallingford. &#8220;Here&#8217;s where I clean up. I own over one third of this
+stock. I have invested only one cheap thousand dollars over and above
+my expenses since I got here, and I&#8217;ll get a third of this seventeen
+thousand right back again, so the company, up to date&mdash;and I own it
+all&mdash;stands me just a little less than what&#8217;s left of my winnings on
+that noble little horse, Whipsaw. Just wait a minute till I send this
+off to the advertising company,&#8221; and he wrote rapidly a lengthy
+telegram.</p>
+
+<p>After he sent away the telegram he remained at his desk a few moments,
+sketching on one of the proofs of a newspaper &#8220;ad&#8221; and filling in the
+lower part.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here,&#8221; said he to Blackie, &#8220;is the complete advertisement.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Blackie picked up the proof sheet and glanced over it in evident
+approval. Taken altogether, it read:</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">LAUGH AT</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">THAT WOOZY FEELING</span></h4>
+
+<h3>DRINK GINGEREE!</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">IT PUTS THE GINGER IN YOU</span><br />
+TEN CENTS AT ALL SODA FOUNTAINS</h4>
+
+<p>&#8220;Within a week,&#8221; exulted Wallingford, &#8220;everybody in the middle states
+will know all about Gingeree. Before that time I&#8217;ll have Gingeree
+invented, and the Gingeree Company organized for half a million
+dollars. I&#8217;ll put in the plant and the advertising at one hundred and
+fifty thousand, sell about twenty-five thousand dollars of treasury
+stock to start the business, then sell my hundred and fifty thousand
+and get out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll have to go out of town to sell your stock,&#8221; observed Blackie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Out of town!&#8221; repeated Wallingford. &#8220;I should say not! With the good
+introduction I have here? Not any. I&#8217;ll sell stock to Doctor Lazzier
+and young Corbin and young Paley and the rest of the bunch.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Blackie looked at his friend in gasping awe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Great guns!&#8221; he exploded. &#8220;J. Rufus, if you have nerve enough even to
+figure on that stunt, I believe you can pull it off!&#8221;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The door of the office opened and Mrs. Wallingford came in.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Blackie Daw!&#8221; she exclaimed. &#8220;And so you are in town and mixed up in
+Jim&#8217;s affairs! Jim Wallingford, now I know you are not conducting a
+straight business!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Blackie only grinned, but Mr. Wallingford was hurt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re mistaken, Fannie,&#8221; said he. &#8220;You sit right down there, and
+I&#8217;ll explain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He did so. When Wallingford rejoined her in their rooms that evening
+she had had time to think it all over. She had found no arguments to
+combat Wallingford&#8217;s statement of the case. She could not find words
+to overturn his words, and yet there was a flaw some place that she
+could not put her finger upon. Knowing this, then, and condoning it,
+was she not a part sharer in his guilt? Yes, and no. For a solid hour
+she searched her heart and she could find but one satisfactory answer.
+No matter what he had done in the past or might do in the future, she
+knew that she loved him, and whatever path his feet might tread, she
+knew that she would walk along with him. She had thought at first that
+she might guide his footsteps into better ways, but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>now she feared!
+She knew, too, that in remaining with him she must take him as he was.</p>
+
+<p>And so, when he came to her, she was ready with her customary kiss, in
+which there was no lack of warmth; nor was there in her eyes any
+troubled look. He was delighted to find her in this mood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess you&#8217;ve thought it all over, Fannie,&#8221; said he, &#8220;and can see
+that at least this one business deal is a dead straight game, just as
+any good business man would play it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she reluctantly admitted. &#8220;I am afraid that business, even
+straight business, is sometimes conducted along such lines.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But down in her heart of hearts she knew better.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3><span class="smcap">Transcriber&#8217;s Note:</span></h3>
+
+<p>Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters&#8217; errors; otherwise
+every effort has been made to remain true to the author&#8217;s words and
+intent.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG WALLINGFORD***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 32897-h.txt or 32897-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/2/8/9/32897">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/8/9/32897</a></p>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Young Wallingford, by George Randolph
+Chester, Illustrated by F. R. Gruger and Henry Raleigh
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Young Wallingford
+
+
+Author: George Randolph Chester
+
+
+
+Release Date: June 19, 2010  [eBook #32897]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG WALLINGFORD***
+
+
+E-text prepared by D Alexander and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
+generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries
+(http://www.archive.org/details/americana)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 32897-h.htm or 32897-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32897/32897-h/32897-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32897/32897-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://www.archive.org/details/youngwallingford00chesiala
+
+
+
+
+
+YOUNG WALLINGFORD
+
+by
+
+GEORGE RANDOLPH CHESTER
+
+Author of
+The Early Bird
+The Making of Bobby Burnit
+
+With Illustrations by F. R. Gruger & Henry Raleigh
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Indianapolis
+The Bobbs-Merrill Company
+Publishers
+
+Copyright 1910
+The Bobbs-Merrill Company
+
+Press of
+Braunworth & Co.
+Bookbinders and Printers
+Brooklyn, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Fannie]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER                                          PAGE
+
+     I WIX BEGINS TO THINK                          1
+
+    II EASY MONEY                                  12
+
+   III YOUNG WIX TAKES A HAND                      25
+
+    IV THE EASIEST WAY                             38
+
+     V WIX DISAPPEARS FOREVER                      52
+
+    VI A SAD DISAPPOINTMENT                        61
+
+   VII A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET                       72
+
+  VIII THE DOUBLE CROSS                            86
+
+    IX SPOILING THE EGYPTIANS                     101
+
+     X EATING CAKE AND HAVING IT                  111
+
+    XI A BRIEF CHARACTER BIT                      126
+
+   XII WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT                  144
+
+  XIII BEAUTY IN THE SPOT-LIGHT                   158
+
+   XIV AN OLD SCORE EVENED UP                     172
+
+    XV TAKING HIS MONEY                           183
+
+   XVI ENJOYING THEMSELVES                        201
+
+  XVII J. RUFUS SEEKS INVESTMENT                  219
+
+ XVIII SPECULATION IN REAL ESTATE                 231
+
+   XIX A GREAT ART CENTER                         251
+
+    XX ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD                         264
+
+   XXI THE GREAT VITTOREO MATTEO                  279
+
+  XXII THE SURPRISE OF HIS LIFE                   288
+
+ XXIII STILL ANOTHER SURPRISE                     298
+
+  XXIV A STRAIGHT BUSINESS                        306
+
+   XXV THE SCIATACATA COMPANY                     318
+
+  XXVI A DELUSION AND A SNARE                     331
+
+ XXVII LAUGH AT THAT WOOZY FEELING                341
+
+
+
+
+YOUNG
+WALLINGFORD
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHEREIN JONATHAN REUBEN WIX BEGINS TO THINK
+
+
+"A natural again!" exulted Jonathan Reuben Wix, as the dice bounded
+from his plump hand and came to rest upon the billiard-table in
+Leiniger's Select Cafe, with a five and a deuce showing. "Somebody
+ring the bell for me, because I'm a-going to get off."
+
+He was a large young man in every dimension, broad of chest and big
+and pink of face and jovial of eye, and he chuckled as he passed the
+dice to his left-hand neighbor. There was a hundred dollars on the
+table and he gathered it up in a wad.
+
+"Good-by, boys, and many merry thanks for these kind contributions,"
+he bantered as he stuffed the money into his pocket. "It's me for
+Bunkville-amidst-the-ferry-boats, on the next Limited."
+
+He was back in less than three days, having spent just twenty-four
+hours in New York. The impulsively decided journey was nothing unusual
+for him, but it had an intimate bearing upon his future in that it
+forced upon him the confidence of secretive Clifford Gilman, who lived
+next door.
+
+"Home so soon?" inquired Gilman in surprise. "They must have robbed
+you!"
+
+"Robbed!" laughed Wix. "I should say not. I didn't waste a cent.
+Railroad ticket, sleepers, meals and extra fare on the Limited cost
+twenty-five each way. That left fifty. My room at the hotel cost five
+dollars. Breakfast was two dollars; morning drive through Central
+Park, four; lunch, three-fifty; matinee ticket, with cab each way,
+five; dinner, eight, with the ordinary champagne of commerce; theater
+and cab hire, five-fifty; supper, twelve, including a bottle of real
+champagne at eight dollars, and the balance in tips."
+
+Clifford gasped as he hungrily reviewed these luscious items.
+
+Young Gilman was not one of those who had been in the game by which
+Wix had won a hundred. He never played dice, did young Gilman, nor
+poker, nor bet on a horse race, nor drank, nor even smoked; but
+wore curly, silken sideburns, and walked up the same side of Main
+Street every morning to the bank, with his lunch in a little
+imitation-leather box. He walked back down the same side of Main
+Street every evening. If he had happened to take the other side on any
+morning, before noon there would have been half a dozen conservative
+depositors to ask old Smalley, who owned the bank, why Clifford had
+crossed over.
+
+Young Gilman was popularly regarded as a "sissy," but that he had
+organs, dimensions and senses, and would bleed if pricked, was
+presently evidenced to Mr. Wix in a startling proposition.
+
+"Look here, Wix," said Gilman, lowering his voice to a mystery-fraught
+undertone, "I'm going to take a little trip and I want you to come
+along."
+
+"Behave!" admonished Wix. "It would be awful reckless in me to go with
+a regular little devil like you; and besides, sarsaparilla and peanuts
+tear up my system so."
+
+"I've got three hundred dollars," stated Gilman calmly. "Does that
+sound like sarsaparilla and peanuts?"
+
+"I'm listening," said Wix with sudden interest. "Where did you get it,
+mister?"
+
+Gilman looked around them nervously, then spoke in an eager whisper,
+clutching Wix by the arm.
+
+"Saved it up, but like you do. I saw the wisdom of your way long ago.
+Old Smalley makes me put half my salary in the bank, but I pinch out a
+little more than that, and every time I get twenty dollars on the
+side, I invest it in margin wheat, by mail. Most often I lose, but
+when I do win I keep on until it amounts to something. Of course, I'm
+laying myself open to you in this. If old Smalley found it out he'd
+discharge me on the spot."
+
+Wix chuckled.
+
+"I know," he agreed. "My mother once wanted me to apply for that job.
+I went to see old Smalley, and the first thing he did was to examine
+my fingers for cigarette stains. 'You won't find any,' I told him,
+'for I use a holder,' and I showed him the holder. Of course, that
+settled my case with Smalley; but do you know that he smokes
+after-dinner cigarettes away from home, and has beer and whisky and
+three kinds of wine in his cellar? I've got his number, all right, but
+I didn't have little Clifford's. Where do you hide it?"
+
+"In the bank and here at home," returned Gilman with a snarl; "and
+I've been at it so long I'm beginning to curdle. You've worked in
+every mercantile establishment, factory and professional office in
+town, and never cared to hold a job. Yet everybody likes you. You
+drink, smoke, gamble and raise the dickens generally. You don't save a
+cent and yet you always manage to have money. You dress swell and
+don't amount to a tinker's cuss, yet you're happy all day long. Come
+along to the Putnam County Fair and show me how."
+
+"The Putnam County Fair!" repeated Wix. "Two hundred miles to get a
+drink?"
+
+"I can't take one any closer, can I?" demanded Gilman savagely. "But
+the real reason is that Uncle Thomas lives there. I can go to visit
+Uncle Thomas when I wouldn't be allowed to 'go on the cars alone'
+anywhere else. But uncle is a good fellow and his wife don't write to
+my mother. He tells me to go ahead; and I don't need go near him
+unless I'm in trouble."
+
+"Some time I'll borrow your Uncle Tom," laughed Wix. "He sounds good
+to me."
+
+Mrs. Gilman came to the door. She was a thin, nervous, little woman,
+with a long chin and a narrow forehead.
+
+"Come in, Cliffy," she urged in a shrill, wheedling voice. "You must
+have a good, long night's rest for your trip in the morning." In
+reality she was worried to have her Clifford talking with the
+graceless Wix--though secretly she admired Jonathan Reuben.
+
+"I must go in now," said Gilman hastily. "Go down to the train in the
+morning and get in on the other side, so mother won't see you. And
+don't tell your mother where you've gone."
+
+"She won't ask," responded Wix, laughing. "Nothing ever worries mother
+except our name. I don't like it myself, but I don't worry over it. It
+isn't my fault, and it was hers."
+
+If Wix felt any trace of bitterness over his mother's indifference he
+never confessed it, even to himself. Mrs. Wix, left a sufficient
+income by the late unloved, lived entirely by routine, with a
+separate, complacent function for every afternoon of the week. She was
+very comfortable, and plump, and placid, was Mrs. Wix, and Jonathan
+Reuben was merely an excrescence upon her scheme of life. Jonathan
+Reuben, however, had no lack of feminine sympathy. Quite a little
+clique of dashing young matrons, with old or dryly preoccupied
+husbands, vied with the girls to make him happy.
+
+In the present instance, young Wix was quite right about his mother's
+indifference. He called to her as he went down to early breakfast that
+he might not be back for a few days, and she sleepily answered. "All
+right." So Clifford and his instructor went to the fair, and the more
+experienced spendthrift showed the amateur how to get rid of his
+money, to their mutual gratification.
+
+Back of the Streets of Cairo, on the closing day, Wix and Gilman,
+hunting a drink, found a neat young man with piercing black eyes and
+black hair, who upon the previous days had been making a surreptitious
+hand-book on the races. Just now he was advising an interested group
+of men that money would not grow in their pockets.
+
+"If your eye is quicker than my hand you get my dollars," he
+singsonged as he deftly shifted three English walnut shells about on a
+flimsy folding stand. "If my hand is quicker than your eye, I get your
+dollars. Here they go, three in a row. They're all set, and here's a
+double sawbuck for some gentleman with a like amount of wealth and a
+keen eye and a little courage. Where, oh, where, is the little pea?"
+
+The location of the little pea was so obvious that it seemed a shame
+to take the black-eyed young man's money, for just as he had stopped
+moving the shells, Wix and Gilman, pressing up, saw that the edge of
+the left-hand shell had rested upon the rubber "pea" and had
+immediately closed over it. Notwithstanding this slip on the part of
+the operator, there seemed some reluctance on the part of the audience
+to invest; instead, with what might have seemed almost suspicious
+eagerness, they turned toward the new-comers. Gilman, flushed of face
+and muddy of eye, and hiccoughing slightly--though Wix, who had drunk
+with him drink for drink, was clean and normal and his usual jovial,
+clear-eyed self--hastily pressed in before any one else should take
+advantage of the golden chance.
+
+"Don't, Gilman," cautioned Wix, and grabbed him by the arm, but
+Clifford, still eager, jerked his arm away; and it was strange how all
+those who had been packed around the board made room for him.
+
+"Here's the boy with the nerve and the money," commented the
+black-eyed one as he took Mr. Gilman's twenty and flaunted it in the
+air with his own. "Now lift up the little shell. If the little pea is
+under it you get the twin twenties. Lovely twins!" He laughed and
+kissed them lightly. "It's only a question," he shouted loudly, as
+Gilman prepared to make his choice, "of whether your eye is quicker
+than my hand."
+
+Confidently Mr. Gilman picked up the left-hand shell, and a
+ludicrously bewildered look came over his face as he saw that the
+pellet was not under it. There was a laugh from the crowd. They had
+been waiting for another victim. Gilman looked hastily down at the
+trampled mass of straw and grass and muddy, black earth.
+
+"The elusive little pea is not on the ground," explained the brisk
+young man. "The elusive little pea is right here on the board in plain
+sight."
+
+To prove it he lifted up the center shell and displayed the pellet!
+There was another laugh. Not one person in that crowd had seen the
+dexterous movement of his little finger, so quick and certain that it
+was scarcely more than a quiver; but, to make sure that his "quickness
+of hand" had not been detected, he scanned every face about him
+swiftly and piercingly. In this inspection his eye happened to light
+on that of Jonathan Reuben Wix, and met a wink so knowing, and withal
+so bubbling with gleeful appreciation, that he was himself forced to
+grin.
+
+"How you've wasted your young life," commented Wix as he led away his
+still dazed companion. "I thought everybody knew that trick by this
+time, but I guess postmasters and bank clerks are always exempt."
+
+"But how did he do it?" protested Gilman. "I saw that little ball
+under the left-hand shell as plain as day."
+
+"That's what he meant you to see," returned Wix with a grin. "He let
+that one stop under the edge as if he were awkward, then he flipped it
+into the crook of his little finger. When he lifted the middle shell
+he shoved the ball under it. At the time you picked yours up there
+wasn't a ball under any of the three shells. There never is."
+
+"I guess it's too late for me to get an education," sighed the other
+plaintively. "Smalley won't give me a chance. I don't even dare buy a
+new suit of clothes too often. I'd never see a bit of life if it
+wasn't for this wheat speculation."
+
+Wix turned to him slowly.
+
+"You want to let that game alone," he cautioned.
+
+"Oh, I'm cautious enough," returned Gilman.
+
+"You're almost in full charge at the bank now, aren't you?" observed
+Wix carelessly. "Smalley's over at his new bank in Milton a good
+deal."
+
+"About half the time," admitted Gilman uneasily.
+
+"He keeps a big cash reserve, doesn't he? Done up in bales, I suppose,
+and never looks at it except to count the mere bundles."
+
+"Of course." Gilman was extremely nonchalant about it.
+
+The other let him change the subject, but he found himself studying
+Clifford speculatively every now and then. This day was another
+deciding step in the future of Wix.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ THE BLACK-EYED YOUNG MAN DISCOURSES OF EASY
+ MONEY
+
+
+It was to Jonathan Reuben that the waiters in the dining-car paid
+profound attention, although Gilman had the money. There was something
+about young Wix's breadth of chest and pinkness of countenance and
+clearness of smiling eye which marked him as one with whom good food
+agreed, whom good liquor cheered, and whom good service thawed to the
+point of gratitude and gratuities: whereas Clifford Gilman, take him
+any place, was only background, and not much of that.
+
+"Say, General Jackson," observed Wix pleasantly to the waiter, "put a
+quart of bubbles in the freezer while we study over this form sheet.
+Then bring us a dry Martini, _not_ out of a bottle."
+
+"I reckon you're going to have about what you want, boss," said the
+negro with a grin, and darted away.
+
+He talked with the steward, who first frowned, then smiled, as he
+looked back and saw the particular guest. A moment later he was
+mixing, and Clifford Gilman gazed upon his friend with most worshipful
+eyes. Here, indeed, was a comrade of whom to be proud, and by whom to
+pattern!
+
+They had swallowed their oysters and had finished their soup, with a
+quart of champagne in a frosty silver bucket beside them and the
+entree on the way, when the "captain" was compelled to seat a third
+passenger at their table. It was the black-eyed young man of the
+walnut shells.
+
+At first, as with his quick sweep he recognized in Mr. Gilman one of
+his victims, he hesitated, but a glance at the jovial Mr. Wix
+reassured him.
+
+"We're just going to open a bottle of joy," invited Wix. "Shall I send
+for another glass?"
+
+"Surest thing, you know," replied the other. "I'm some partial to
+headache water."
+
+"This is on the victim," observed Wix with a laugh, as the cork was
+pulled. "You see he has coin left, even after attending your little
+party."
+
+"Pity I didn't know he was so well padded," grinned the black-eyed
+one, whereat all three laughed, Gilman more loudly than any of them.
+Gilman ceased laughing, however, to struggle with his increasing
+tendency toward cross-eyes.
+
+Wix turned to him with something of contempt.
+
+"He don't mind the loss of twenty or so," he dryly observed. "He's in
+a business where he sees nothing but money all day long. He's a highly
+trusted bank clerk."
+
+Instead of glancing with interest at Mr. Gilman, the black-eyed young
+man sharply scrutinized Mr. Wix. Then he smiled.
+
+"And what line are you in?" he finally asked of Wix.
+
+"I've been in everything," confessed that joyous young gentleman with
+a chuckle, "and stayed in nothing. Just now, I'm studying law."
+
+"Doing nothing on the side?"
+
+"Not a thing."
+
+"He can't save any money to go into anything else," laughed Gilman,
+momentarily awakened into a surprising semblance of life. "Every time
+he gets fifty dollars he goes out of town to buy a fancy meal."
+
+"You were born for easy money," the black-eyed one advised Wix. "It's
+that sort of a lip that drives us all into the shearing business."
+
+Wix shook his head.
+
+"Not me," said he. "The law books prove that easy money costs too
+much."
+
+The black-eyed one shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"In certain lines it does," he admitted. "I'm going to get out of my
+line right away, for that very reason. Besides," he added with a sigh,
+"these educated town constables are putting the business on the
+bump-the-bumps. They've got so they want from half to two-thirds, and
+put a bookkeeper on the job."
+
+Mr. Gilman presently created a diversion by emitting a faint whoop,
+and immediately afterward went to sleep in the bread-platter. Wix sent
+for the porter of their sleeping-car, and between the two they put Mr.
+Gilman to bed. Before Wix returned to the shell expert he carefully
+extracted the money from his friend Clifford's pocket.
+
+"He won't need it, anyhow," he lightly explained, "and we will. I'll
+tell him about it in the morning."
+
+"I guess you can do that and make him like it all right," agreed the
+other. "He's a born sucker. He can get to the fat money, can't he?"
+
+Wix shook his head.
+
+"No," he declared; "parents poor, and I don't think he has enough
+ginger in him ever to make a pile of his own."
+
+The other was thoughtful and smiling for a time.
+
+"He'll get hold of it some way or other, mark what I tell you, and you
+might just as well have it as anybody. Somebody's going to cop it. I
+think you said you lived in Filmore? Suppose I drop through there with
+a quick-turn proposition that would need two or three thousand, and
+would show that much profit in a couple of months? If you help me pull
+it through I'll give you a slice out of it."
+
+Wix was deeply thoughtful, but he made no reply.
+
+"You don't live this way all the time, and you'd like to," urged the
+other. "There's no reason you shouldn't. Why, man, the bulk of this
+country is composed of suckers that are able to lay hands on from one
+to ten thousand apiece. They'll spend ten years to get it and can be
+separated from it in ten minutes. You're one of the born separators.
+You were cut out for nothing but easy money."
+
+Easy money! The phrase sank into the very soul of Jonathan Reuben Wix.
+Every professional, commercial and manufacturing man who knew him had
+predicted for him a brilliant future; but they had given him false
+credit for his father's patience to plod for years. Heredity had only
+given him, upon his father's side, selfishness and ingenuity; upon his
+mother's side, selfishness and a passion for luxurious comfort, and
+now, at twenty-six, he was still a young man without any prospect
+whatsoever.
+
+Easy money! He was still dreaming of it; looking lazily for chance to
+throw it his way, and reading law, commercial law principally, in a
+desultory fashion, though absorbing more than he knew, when one day,
+about six months afterward, the black-haired young man landed in
+Filmore. He was growing a sparse, jet-black mustache now, and wore a
+solemn, black frock-coat which fitted his slender frame like a glove.
+He walked first into the Filmore Bank, and by his mere appearance
+there nearly scared Clifford Gilman into fits.
+
+"I guess you don't remember me," said the stranger with a smile. "My
+name is Horace G. Daw, and I had the pleasure of doing a little
+business with you at the Putnam County Fair."
+
+"Yes, I--I--remember," admitted Gilman, thankful that there were no
+depositors in, and looking apprehensively out of the door. "What can I
+do for you?"
+
+"I have a little business opportunity that I think would about suit
+you," said Mr. Daw, reaching toward his inside coat pocket.
+
+"Not here; not here!" Gilman nervously interrupted him. "Somebody
+might come in at any minute, even Mr. Smalley himself. He's started
+for the train, but he might come back."
+
+"When, then, can I see you?" demanded Daw, seeing that Gilman was
+afraid of him. He had intended to meet the young man upon terms of
+jovial cordiality, but this was better.
+
+"Any time you say, out of hours," said Gilman.
+
+"Then suppose you come down to the Grand Hotel at from seven-thirty to
+eight o'clock."
+
+"All right," gulped Gilman. "I'll be there."
+
+Under the circumstances Mr. Daw changed his plans immediately. He had
+meant to hunt up Mr. Wix also, but now he most emphatically did not
+wish to do so, and kept very closely to his hotel. Mr. Gilman, on the
+contrary, did wish to find Mr. Wix, and hunted frantically for him;
+but Wix, that day, obeying a sudden craving for squab, had gone fifty
+miles to dine!
+
+Alone, then, Gilman went in fear and trembling to the Grand Hotel, and
+was very glad indeed to be sheltered from sight in Mr. Daw's room.
+
+What would Mr. Gilman have to drink? Nothing, thank you. No, no wine.
+A highball? No, not a highball. Some beer? Not any beer, thank you.
+Nevertheless, Mr. Daw ordered a pitcher of draft beer with two
+glasses, and Mr. Gilman found himself sipping eagerly at it almost
+before he knew it: for after an enforced abstinence of months, that
+beer tasted like honey. Also, it was warming to the heart and
+exhilarating to the brain, and it enabled him to listen better to the
+wonderful opportunity Mr. Daw had to offer him.
+
+It seemed that Mr. Daw had obtained exclusive inside information about
+the Red Mud Gold Mine. Three genuine miners--presumably top-booted,
+broad-hatted and red neck-kerchiefed--had incorporated that company,
+and, keeping sixty per cent. of the stock for themselves, had placed
+forty per cent. of it in the East for sale. As paying ore had not been
+found in it, after weary months of prospecting, one of the three
+partners brought his twenty per cent. of the stock East, and Mr. Daw
+had bought it for a song. A song, mind you, a mere nothing. Mr. Daw,
+moreover, knew where the other forty per cent. had been sold, and it,
+too, could be bought for a song. But now here came the point. After
+the departure of the disgruntled third partner the others had found
+gold! The two fortunate miners were, however, carefully concealing
+their good luck, because they were making most strenuous endeavors to
+raise enough money to buy in the outstanding stock before the holders
+realized its value.
+
+Mr. Gilman, pouring another amber glassful for himself, nodded his
+head in vast appreciation. Smart men, those miners.
+
+Mr. Daw had been fortunate enough to glean these facts from a returned
+miner whom he had befriended in early years, and fortunate enough,
+too, to secure samples of the ore, all of which had happened within
+the past week. Here was one of the samples. _Look at those flecks!_
+Those were gold, virgin _gold_!
+
+Mr. Gilman feasted his eyes on those flecks, their precious color
+richly enhanced when seen through four glasses of golden beer. That
+was actually gold, in the raw state. He strove to comprehend it.
+
+Here was the certified report of the assay, on the letter-head of the
+chemist who had examined the ore. It ran _a hundred and sixty-three
+dollars to the ton_! Marvelous; perfectly marvelous! Mr. Daw himself,
+even as he showed the assay, admired it over and over. As for Mr.
+Gilman, words could not explain how he was impressed. A genuine assay!
+
+Now, here is what Mr. Daw had done. Immediately upon receiving the
+report upon this assay he had scraped together all the money he could,
+and had bought up an additional ten per cent. of the stock of that
+company, which left him holding thirty per cent. Also, he had secured
+an option upon the thirty per cent. still outstanding. That additional
+thirty per cent. could be secured, if it were purchased at once, for
+three thousand dollars. Now, if Mr. Gilman could invest that much
+money, or knew any one who could, by pooling their stock Mr. Gilman
+and Mr. Daw would have sixty per cent. of the total incorporated stock
+of the company, and would thus hold control. Mr. Gilman certainly knew
+what that meant.
+
+Mr. Gilman did, for Mr. Smalley's Filmore Bank had been started as a
+stock company, with Mr. Smalley holding control, and by means of that
+control Mr. Smalley had been able to vote himself sufficient salary to
+be able to buy up the balance of the stock, so that now it was all
+his; but Mr. Gilman could not see where it was possible for him to
+secure three thousand dollars for an investment of this nature.
+
+An investment? Mr. Daw objected. This was not an investment at all. It
+was merely the laying down of three thousand dollars and immediately
+picking it up again fourfold. Why, having secured this stock,
+all they had to do was to let the secret of the finding of the
+hundred-and-sixty-three-dollar-a-ton gold be known, and, having
+control to offer, they could immediately sell it, anywhere, for four
+times what they had paid for it. The entire transaction need not take
+a week: it need not take four days.
+
+Now, here is what Mr. Daw would do--that is, after he had ordered
+another pitcher of beer. He had the thirty per cent. of stock with
+him. He spread it out before Mr. Gilman. It was most beautifully
+printed stock, on the finest of bond paper, with gold-leaf letters, a
+crimson border and green embellishments, and was carefully numbered in
+metallic blue. It was also duly transferred in the name of Horace G.
+Daw. Mr. Daw would do this: In order that Mr. Gilman might be
+protected from the start, Mr. Daw would, upon taking Mr. Gilman's
+three thousand, make over to Mr. Gilman this very stock. He would then
+take Mr. Gilman's three thousand and purchase the other thirty per
+cent. of stock in his, Mr. Daw's, own name, and would, in the
+meantime, sign a binding agreement with Mr. Gilman that their stock
+should be pooled--that neither should sell without the consent of the
+other. It was a glorious opportunity! Mr. Daw was sorry he could not
+swing it all himself, but, being unable to do so, it immediately
+occurred to him that Mr. Gilman was the very man to benefit by the
+opportunity.
+
+Mr. Gilman looked upon that glittering sample of ore, that
+unimpeachable certified assay, those beautifully printed stock
+certificates of the Red Mud Gold Mining Company, and he saw yellow.
+Nothing but gold, rich, red mud gold, was in all his safe, sane and
+conservative vision. Here, indeed, was no risk, for here were proofs
+enough and to spare. Besides, the entire transaction was so plausible
+and natural.
+
+"By George, I'll do it!" said Mr. Gilman, having already, in those few
+brief moments, planned what he would do with nine thousand dollars of
+profits. Mr. Daw was very loath to let Mr. Gilman go home after this
+announcement. He tried to get him to stay all night, so that they
+could go right down to the bank together in the morning and fix up the
+matter; for it must be understood that a glittering opportunity like
+this must be closed immediately. Mr. Gilman, as a business man of
+experience, could appreciate that. But there were weighty reasons why
+Mr. Gilman could not do this, no matter how much he might desire it,
+or see its advisability. Very well, then, Mr. Daw would simply draw up
+that little agreement to pool their stock, so that the matter could be
+considered definitely settled, and Mr. Daw would then wire, yet that
+night, to the holders of the remaining stock that he would take it.
+
+With much gravity and even pomp the agreement was drawn up and signed;
+then Mr. Gilman, taking the sage advice of Mr. Daw, drank seltzer and
+ammonia and ate lemon peel, whereupon he went home, keeping squarely
+in the center of the sidewalk to prove to himself that he could walk a
+straight line without wavering. Young Mr. Daw, meanwhile, clinging to
+that signed agreement as a mariner to his raft, sat upon the edge of
+his bed to rejoice and to admire himself; for this was Mr. Daw's first
+adventure into the higher and finer degrees of "wise work," and he was
+quite naturally elated over his own neatness and despatch.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+ YOUNG WIX TAKES A HAND IN THE BLACK-EYED
+ ONE'S GAME
+
+
+The glowing end of a cigar upon the porch of the adjoining house told
+Gilman that young Wix was at home, and, full of his important
+enterprise, he stopped in front of the Wix gate to gloat.
+
+"Hello, Gilman," said Wix, sauntering down. "Out pretty late for a
+mere infant of twenty-four?"
+
+"Little matter of business," protested Mr. Gilman pompously, glancing
+apprehensively at the second-story window, where a shade was already
+drawn aside.
+
+"Business!" repeated Wix. "They put midnight business in jail at
+daylight."
+
+"Hush!" warned Gilman, with another glance at the window. "This is
+different. This is one of those lucky strokes that I have read about
+but never hoped would come my way," and enthusiastically, in an
+undertone which Wix had to strain to hear, he recited all the details
+of the golden opportunity.
+
+It was not so much experience as a natural trend of mind paralleling
+Mr. Daw's which made Mr. Wix smile to himself all through this
+recital. He seemed to foresee each step in the plan before it was told
+him, and, when Mr. Gilman was through, the only point about which his
+friend was at all surprised, or even eager, was the matter of the
+three thousand.
+
+"Do you mean to say you can swing that amount?" he demanded.
+
+"I--I think I can," faltered Mr. Gilman. "In fact, I--I'm very sure of
+it. Although, of course, that's a secret," he hastily added.
+
+"Where would you get it?" asked Wix incredulously.
+
+"Well, for a sure thing like this, if you must know," said Gilman,
+gulping, but speaking with desperately businesslike decision, "I am
+sure Mr. Smalley would loan it to me. Although he wouldn't want it
+known," he again added quickly. "If you'd speak to him about it he'd
+deny it, and might even make me trouble for being so loose-tongued;
+so, of course, nobody must know."
+
+"I see," said Wix slowly. "Well, Cliff, you just pass up this tidy
+little fortune."
+
+"Pass it up!"
+
+"Yes, let it slide on by. Look on it with scorn. Wriggle your fingers
+at it. Let somebody else have that nine thousand dollars clean profit
+from the investment of three, all in a couple of days. I'm afraid it
+would give you the short-haired paleness to make so much money so
+suddenly. Ever hear of that disease? The short-haired paleness comes
+from wearing horizontal stripes in a cement room."
+
+For a moment young Gilman pondered this ambiguous reply in silence,
+then out of his secret distress he blurted:
+
+"But, Wix, I've _got_ to do something that will bring me in some
+money! I've run behind on my wheat trades. I've--I've _got_ to do
+something!"
+
+Wix, in the darkness, made a little startled movement, the involuntary
+placing of his finger-tips behind his ear; then he answered quietly:
+
+"I told you to keep away from that game. I tried it myself and know
+all about it."
+
+"I know, but I did it just the same," answered Gilman.
+
+Wix chuckled.
+
+"Of course you did. You're the woolly breed that keeps bucket-shops
+going. I'd like no better lazy life than just to run a bucket-shop and
+fill all my buckets with the fleeces of about a dozen of your
+bleating kind. It would be easy money."
+
+The front door of the Gilman house opened a little way, and the voice
+of a worried woman came out into the night:
+
+"Is that you, Cliffy?"
+
+"Yes, mother," answered Clifford. "Good night, old man. I want to be
+sure to see you before I go to the bank in the morning. I want to talk
+this thing over with you," and young Gilman hurried into the house.
+
+Wix looked after him as he went in, and stood staring at the glowing
+second-story window. Then he suddenly went back up to his own porch
+and got his hat. Fifteen minutes later he was at the desk of the Grand
+Hotel.
+
+"Mr. Daw," he said to the clerk.
+
+"I think Mr. Daw's probably gone to bed by this time, Wix," the clerk
+protested.
+
+"We'll wake him up, then. What's the number of his room? I'll do it
+myself."
+
+The clerk grinned.
+
+"If he kicks, you know, Wix, I can't blame you for it. I'll have to
+stand it myself."
+
+"He won't kick. What's his room?"
+
+"Number one," and again the clerk grinned. Nobody ever point-blank
+refused young Wix a favor. There was that in his bigness, and in the
+very jollity with which he defied life and its pretended gravity,
+which opened all doors to him. His breadth of chest had much to do
+with it.
+
+"The bridal chamber, eh?" he chuckled. "In that case, send up a bottle
+of champagne and charge it to Mr. Daw's account. Yes, I know the bar's
+closed, but you have a key. Go dig it out yourself, Joe, and do it in
+style."
+
+Unattended, Mr. Wix made his way to room one and pounded on the door.
+Mr. Daw, encased in blue pajamas and just on the point of retiring,
+opened cautiously, and was quite crestfallen when he recognized his
+visitor. Nevertheless, he thawed into instant amiability.
+
+"Glad to see you, old scout," he cried, and shaking hands with Wix,
+pulled him into the room. "I felt as if the old homestead was no
+longer home when I didn't find you here to-day. Sit down. What'll you
+have to drink?"
+
+"Wine, thanks," replied Wix. "They're getting it ready now. I gave
+them your order before I came up."
+
+Mr. Daw gasped and batted his eyes, but swallowed quickly and had it
+over with.
+
+"You see," explained Wix, as they seated themselves comfortably. "I
+thought, since we wouldn't have time for many drinks, that we might
+just as well make it a good one. I brought up this timetable. There's
+a train leaves for the East at five-thirty-seven this morning, and one
+leaves for the West at six-ten. Which are you going to take?"
+
+"Why, neither one," said Daw in some surprise. "I have some business
+here."
+
+"Yes," admitted Wix dryly; "I just saw Gilman. Which train are you
+taking?"
+
+"Neither, I said," snapped Daw, frowning, "I don't intend to leave
+here until I finish my work."
+
+"Oh, yes, you do," Wix informed him. "You're going about the time
+Gilman is washing his face for breakfast; and you won't leave any word
+for him."
+
+"How do you know so well?" retorted Daw. "Look here, Mr. Wix, this
+proposition I'm offering Gilman is a fair and square--"
+
+"You say that again and I'll bite you," interrupted Wix pleasantly.
+
+"I've got a pretty good left-handed punch of my own," flared Daw,
+advancing a threatening step.
+
+Wix, though much the larger man, betrayed his touch of physical
+cowardice by a fleeting shade of pallor, and moved over next the door.
+The Grand Hotel had not installed a room telephone service, still
+relying upon the convenient push-button. To this, Wix, affecting to
+treat the entire incident as a joke, called attention.
+
+"One ring, ice water," he read from the printed card above it; "two
+rings, bell boy; three rings, maid. I think about six rings will bring
+the clerk, the porter and the fire department," he observed; "but I
+don't see where we need them in a quiet little business talk like
+ours."
+
+"Oh, I see!" said Daw in the sudden flood of a great white light, and
+he smiled most amiably. "I promised you a rake-off when I spoke about
+this on the train, didn't I? And, of course, I'm willing to stick with
+it. If I pull this across there's a thousand in it for you."
+
+"No. It won't do," said Wix, shaking his head.
+
+"Say fifteen hundred, then."
+
+Once more Wix shook his head. He, also, smiled most amiably.
+
+"I guess you want it all?" charged Daw with a sneer.
+
+"Possibly," admitted Wix, then suddenly he chuckled so that his big
+shoulders heaved. "To tell you the truth," he stated, "I didn't know
+Gilman could put up so big a prize as all that nice money, or he
+wouldn't have had it loose to offer you by now. As soon as I get over
+the shock I'll know what to do about it. Just now, all I know is that
+he's not going into this real silky little joke of yours. I don't want
+to see the money go out of town."
+
+"I saw it first," Daw reminded him. "I don't care where he gets it,
+you know, just so I get it."
+
+"Wherever he gets it," said Wix impressively, "it will be secured in a
+perfectly legitimate manner. I want you to understand that much."
+
+"Oh, yes, I understood that, anyhow," acknowledged Daw, and the two
+young men looked quite steadily into each other's eyes, each knowing
+what the other thought, but refusing to admit it.
+
+It was Daw who first broke the ensuing silence.
+
+"Suppose I can't decide to wing my onward way?" he suggested.
+
+"Then I'll have you looking out on court-house square through the big
+grill."
+
+"On what charge?"
+
+"General principles," chuckled Wix.
+
+"I suppose there's a heavy stretch for that if they prove it on me,"
+returned Daw thoughtfully. There was no levity whatever in the reply.
+He had read the eyes of Wix correctly. Wix would have him arrested as
+sure as breakfast, dinner and supper.
+
+"Just general principles," repeated Wix; "to be followed by a general
+investigation. Can you stand it?"
+
+"I should say I can," asserted Daw. "What time did you say that train
+leaves? The one going east, I mean."
+
+"Five-thirty-seven."
+
+"Then, if you don't mind, you may leave me a call for five o'clock;"
+and Mr. Daw nonchalantly yawned.
+
+There came a knock at the door.
+
+"I'm sorry you have to leave us so soon, Mr. Daw," said Wix, admitting
+the clerk with the wine, and speaking with much regret in his tone.
+
+"I'll clink glasses with you, anyhow, old sport," offered Daw,
+accepting the inevitable gracefully, after the clerk had gone. "I
+don't know what your game is, but here's to it! Always remember,
+though, that I located this three thousand for you. I hate to leave it
+here. It was such easy money."
+
+"Easy money!" Again that phrase rang in the ears of young Wix, as he
+walked home, as he stood at his gate looking over at the second-story
+window of the Gilman house, and as he lay upon his pillow. To dwell in
+perpetual ease, to be surrounded with endless luxury, to spend money
+prodigally in all the glitter and pomp of the places that had been
+built at the demand of extravagance: these things had become an
+obsession with him--yet, for them, he was not willing to work and
+wait.
+
+Gilman felt that he had lost vast estates, when, upon calling at the
+hotel in the morning, he found that Mr. Daw had left upon an early
+train. He was worried, too, that he had not been able to see Wix
+before he started down-town. Most opportunely, however, Wix sauntered
+out of Sam Glidden's cigar store, opposite the hotel, as Gilman
+emerged upon the street.
+
+"When's the funeral?" asked Wix. "You look like a sick-headache
+feels."
+
+"Daw has gone, and without leaving me any word," quavered Gilman. "I
+suppose he'll--he'll probably write to me, though."
+
+"I'm betting that he has writer's cramp every time he tries it,"
+asserted Wix.
+
+"But I signed an agreement with him last night. He must write."
+
+"Does this look anything like that agreement," asked Wix, and from his
+pocket drew the document, torn once across each way. Gilman gazed at
+the pieces blankly. "I got it away from him, and tore it up myself,
+last night," continued Wix. "Also, I ran the gentleman out of town on
+the five-thirty-seven this morning, headed due east and still going."
+
+"What do you mean?" gasped Gilman. "Why, man, you've taken away the
+only chance I had to get even. I _have_ to make money, I tell you!"
+
+"Be calm, little Cliffy," admonished Wix soothingly. "I'm going to get
+it its money. Look here, Gilman, this man was a fake and I made him
+say so, but his coming here gave me an idea. I'm going to open a
+bucket-shop, and you're going to back it."
+
+"Not a bucket-shop!" objected Gilman, aghast at the very name.
+
+"Yes, a bucket-shop. Do you know how they operate? Of course not,
+merely having played against them. Well, suppose you gamble a thousand
+bushels of wheat on a two-cent margin, holding for a two-cent advance.
+What happens to your twenty dollars? The bucket expert takes out his
+buying commission of one-fourth cent a bushel. A straight broker
+takes off one-eighth cent, but your man milks you for a nifty little
+total of two dollars and a half, because you're a piker. If wheat goes
+down one and three-fourths cents you lose the other seventeen-fifty,
+don't you?"
+
+"Yes," admitted Gilman.
+
+"If it goes up two cents the man closes the deal and takes out another
+one-fourth cent a bushel for closing. That's another two-fifty. You
+get back thirty-five dollars. Your bucket-shop man is practically
+betting fifteen dollars of his money against twenty of yours on worse
+than an even break. Pretty good game for the bucket-shop man, isn't
+it? But there's more. He doesn't take as much risk as matching pennies
+on a three-to-four shot. Suppose he has one man betting that wheat
+will go up and another that it will go down. Each man puts up twenty,
+and one must lose. The man with the bucket runs no chances, and every
+time he takes in forty dollars he pays out only thirty-five of it.
+Twelve and one-half per cent. of all the money that passes through his
+hands stays there. Moreover, the winner puts his right back into the
+game, and the loser rakes up more, to win back what he lost. Pretty
+syrupy, eh? The only trouble with you is that you have been playing
+this game from the wrong end. Now, you're going to play it from the
+inside. I'm going to rent an office to-day. You're to back me to the
+extent of three thousand dollars, and we'll split the profits."
+
+Gilman's eyes glistened. He was one who did his thinking by proxy, and
+reflected enthusiasm with vast ease.
+
+"Do you suppose it would take the three thousand all at once?" he
+asked with some anxiety.
+
+"No, we won't need it in a lump," Wix decided, after some sharp
+thought over Gilman's nervousness; "but it must be where we can get
+all or any part of it at a minute's notice."
+
+Gilman drew such an obvious breath of relief that Wix became once more
+thoughtful; but it was a thoughtfulness that brought with it only
+hardening of the jaw and steeling of the eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+ WHICH SHOWS THE EASIEST WAY TO MAKE A
+ BUCKET-SHOP PAY
+
+
+Within three days, Wix, who was a curious blend of laziness and
+energy, had fitted up an office in a sample-room leading off the lobby
+of the Grand Hotel. Over the name on the door he puzzled somewhat, and
+it was only his hatred for every component syllable of "Jonathan
+Reuben Wix" that caused the sign finally to appear as "La Salle Grain
+and Stock Brokerage Company." The walls were freshly papered in deep
+red, a thick, red carpet was put upon the floor, a resplendent
+cashier's wicket and desk were installed, fine leather-padded chairs
+faced a neatly ruled blackboard; and the speculative element of
+Filmore walked right into its first real bucket-shop and made itself
+at home. It was a positive pleasure to lose money there, and it was a
+joy to have young Wix take it. He did it so jovially.
+
+Punctually every evening Wix handed to Gilman his half of the profits
+on the trades closed that day, and each week the profits became
+larger. Gilman was thrown into a constant state of delight; Wix bought
+him a horse and buggy. Gilman saw fortune just ahead of him; Wix saw
+possible disaster. It pained him to note that Filmore was optimistic.
+There were many more bulls than bears, which was not the ideal
+condition. There should have been a bear to offset every bull, in
+which case the La Salle Grain and Stock Brokerage Company would have
+run no risk whatever.
+
+Of course, the inevitable happened. All the wheat and stock gamblers
+of Filmore got in on a strong bull market and stayed in. When the
+market finally turned back and the "longs" were frightened out, the
+crash came, and every dollar was lost of the original three thousand.
+Wix, having anticipated the possibility of such an event, was
+disappointed but "game." Gilman, having more at stake and being at
+best a cheerful winner only, was frantic.
+
+"What shall I do? What shall I do?" he moaned, over and over.
+
+"Dig up more money," Wix cheerfully advised him.
+
+"I can't!" cried Gilman. "I've gone now even deeper than I dared." He
+was silent for a long time. Great beads of perspiration came on his
+brow. His hair was wet. "Wix," he finally burst out, "I've got to tell
+you something; something that no living creature knows but me."
+
+"No, you don't!" Wix sharply stopped him. "If you have any secrets,
+keep them to yourself. I am stone deaf."
+
+Gilman's eyes widened with a look of positive terror. For the first
+time in his life he had met that glare in the eyes of a supposed
+friend which denied friendship, sentiment or emotion of any sort;
+which told only of cold self-interest. Two or three times he essayed
+to speak, but he could not. He only stood with his sides heaving, like
+a spent dog.
+
+"There is no use whining about this thing," Wix went on sharply.
+"We've got to raise money, and that's all there is to it. How about
+your profits that I've been handing you? I've spent mine."
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"You said something about owing four hundred dollars before we began,"
+Wix went on. "I suppose you repaid that--that loan."
+
+Gilman dumbly nodded.
+
+"I've paid you over a thousand dollars rake-off. I suppose you saved
+the rest of it?"
+
+Again Gilman nodded his head.
+
+"Well, bring me that six hundred or whatever it is."
+
+Gilman mechanically produced it, all in one-hundred-dollar bills
+folded very flat.
+
+That morning Wix faced the business anew with six hundred dollars, and
+felt keenly his limited capital. His severe losses had been a good
+advertisement, and every man who had won a dollar was prepared to put
+it back. Wix, with a steady hand at the helm, stood through this
+crisis most admirably, refusing trades from buyers until he had
+sellers enough to offset them, and refusing excess trades from sellers
+until he had buyers to balance. Within two weeks he had a comfortable
+little sum, but now the daily division of spoils brought no balm to
+Gilman. He was suddenly old, and upon his face were appearing lines
+that would last him throughout his life. Upon the florid countenance
+of Wix there was not even the shadow of a crease.
+
+"Good money, boy," said he to Gilman, upon the day he handed over the
+completion of five hundred dollars. "This business is like a poker
+game. If the players stick at it long enough the kitty will have all
+the money."
+
+"I don't want it all," replied Gilman wearily. "Wix, if I ever get
+back the twenty-five hundred dollars that it will take to make me
+square, I swear before my Maker," and he held up his trembling, white
+hand, "never to touch another investment outside the bank as long as I
+live."
+
+"Your liver must be the color of a sick salmon," retorted Wix, but
+nevertheless he was himself disillusioned. The bucket-shop business
+was not what he had imagined it to be. It was not "easy money!" It had
+fluctuations, must be constantly watched, was susceptible to
+bankruptcy--and meant work! The ideal enterprise was one which,
+starting from nothing, involved no possible loss; which yielded a
+large block of cold cash within a short time, and which was then
+ended. Daw's idea was the most ideal that had come under his
+observation. That was really an admirable scheme of Daw's, except for
+one very serious drawback. It was dangerous. Now, if as clever a plan,
+and one without any menace from the law, could only be hinged upon
+some more legitimate business--say a bucket-shop concern....
+
+There is no analyzing a creation, an invention. It is not
+deliberately worked out, step by step. It is a flash of genius. At
+this moment young Wix created. The principle he evolved was, in fact,
+to stand him in good stead in a score of "safe" operations, but, just
+now, it was a gaudy new thing, and its beauty almost blinded him. The
+same idea had been used by many men before him, but Wix did not know
+this, and he created it anew.
+
+"Sam," he said to the cigar-store man next morning, "I want you to
+invest in The La Salle Grain and Stock Brokerage Company."
+
+"Not any," declared Sam. "You have two hundred of my money now."
+
+"Not the entire roll," denied Wix. "I only got twelve and one-half per
+cent."
+
+"If you'd take twelve and a half per cent. eight times you'd have it
+all," retorted Sam. "That's why I quit. I stood to lose two hundred
+dollars on a seven-point drop, or win a hundred and seventy-five on an
+eight-point raise. When I finally figured out that I had the tweezers
+into my hair going and coming, I didn't wish any more."
+
+"But suppose I'd offer you a chance to stand on the other side of the
+counter and take part of the change?"
+
+"I'd let you stand right here and talk a while. What's the matter?"
+
+"Haven't capital enough," explained Wix. "I think I refused to take a
+trade of yours one time, just because I had to play safe. I had to be
+in position to pay off all my losses or quit business."
+
+"How much are you increasing?" asked Glidden, interested.
+
+"A twenty-five-thousand-dollar stock company: two hundred and fifty
+shares at a hundred dollars each."
+
+"I might take a share or two," said Sam.
+
+"You'll take twenty," declared Wix, quite sure of himself. "I want
+four incorporators besides myself, and I want you to be one of them."
+
+"Is that getting me the stock any cheaper?"
+
+"Fifty per cent.; two thousand dollars' worth for a thousand. After we
+five incorporators are in we'll raise the price to par and not sell a
+share for a cent less."
+
+"How much do you get out of this?" Sam asked, with a leer of
+understanding.
+
+"Ten per cent. for selling the stock, and have the new company buy
+over the present one for ten thousand dollars' worth of shares."
+
+[Illustration: "Sam," he said, "I want you to invest"]
+
+"I thought so," said Glidden with a grin. "Fixtures, established
+business and good will, I suppose."
+
+Wix chuckled.
+
+"You put it in the loveliest words," he admitted.
+
+"You're a bright young man," said Glidden admiringly. "You'd better
+pay for those fixtures and put in the whole business at five hundred."
+
+"What do you suppose I'm enlarging the thing for, except to increase
+my income?" Wix demanded. "With ten thousand dollars' worth of stock
+I'd get only two-fifths of the profit, when I've been getting it all
+heretofore. As a matter of fact, I'm doing pretty well not to try to
+capture the majority."
+
+They both laughed upon this, and Glidden capitulated. Within
+forty-eight hours Wix had his four directors, all ex-traders who would
+rather make money than gamble, and each willing to put in a thousand
+dollars. As soon as they were incorporated they paid Wix his hundred
+shares for the old business, and that developing financier started out
+to sell the balance of the stock, on commission.
+
+It was an easy task, for his fellow-directors did all the advertising
+for him. Practically all he had to do was to deliver the certificates
+and collect. It was while he was engaged in this pleasant occupation
+that he went to Gilman with a blank certificate for twenty-five
+shares.
+
+"I think you said, Gilman, that if you could get your remaining
+twenty-five hundred dollars out of the La Salle you'd be satisfied,
+didn't you?"
+
+"Satisfied!" gasped Gilman. "Just show me how it can be done!"
+
+"Here's twenty-five hundred dollars' worth of stock in the new company
+I've incorporated from the old one, and it's selling--at par--like
+beer at a German picnic."
+
+"That would ruin me," Gilman protested in a panic. "You must sell it
+for me or I'm gone. Why, Wix, this new state bank inspection law has
+just gone into effect, and there may be an inspector at the bank any
+day."
+
+"I see," said Wix slowly, looking him straight in the eye, "and they
+may object to Smalley's having loaned you that money on insufficient
+security. Well, I'll see what I can do."
+
+Nevertheless, he let Gilman's stock lie while he sold the treasury
+shares, and, the market being still so eager that it seemed a shame
+not to supply it, _he sold his own_!
+
+There was now time for Gilman, and Wix, with an artistic eye for
+dramatic propinquities, presented his proposition to no less a person
+than Smalley, grinning, however, as he went in.
+
+"I couldn't think of such a thing, sir," squeaked that gentleman.
+"I'll have nothing to do with gambling in any way, shape or form."
+
+"No," agreed Wix, and carefully closed the door of Smalley's private
+office. "Well, this isn't gambling, Mr. Smalley. It's only the people
+outside who gamble. The La Salle doesn't propose to take any chances;
+it only takes commissions," and he showed to Mr. Smalley, very
+frankly, a record of his transactions, including the one disastrous
+period for the purpose of pointing out the flaw which had brought it
+about.
+
+Smalley inspected those figures long and earnestly, while Wix sat back
+smiling. He had penetrated through that leathery exterior, had
+discovered what no one else would have suspected: that in Smalley
+himself there ran a long-leashed gambling instinct.
+
+"But I couldn't possibly have my name connected with a matter of this
+sort," was Smalley's last citadel of objection.
+
+"Why should you?" agreed Wix, and then a diabolical thought came to
+him, in the guise of an exquisite joke. He had great difficulty in
+repressing a chuckle as he suggested it. "Why not put the stock in
+Gilman's name?"
+
+"It might be a very bad influence for the young man," protested
+Smalley virtuously, but clutching at the suggestion. "He is thoroughly
+trustworthy, however, and I suppose I can explain it to him as being a
+really conservative investment that should have no publicity. I think
+you said, Mr. Wix, that there are only twenty-five shares remaining to
+be sold."
+
+"That's all," Wix assured him. "You couldn't secure another share if
+you wanted it."
+
+"Very well, then, I think I shall take it."
+
+"I have the certificate in my pocket," said Wix, and he produced the
+identical certificate that he had offered Gilman some days before. It
+had already been signed by the complacent Sam Glidden as secretary.
+"Make this out to Gilman, shall I?" asked Wix, seating himself at
+Smalley's desk, and poising his pen above the certificate.
+
+"I believe so," assented Smalley, pursing up his lips.
+
+With a smile all of careless pleasure with the world, Wix wrote the
+name of Clifford M. Gilman, and signed the certificate as president.
+
+"Now, your check, Mr. Smalley, for twenty-five hundred, and the new La
+Salle Company is completely filled up, ready to start in business on a
+brand-new basis."
+
+With his lips still pursed, Smalley made out that check, and Wix shook
+hands with him most cordially as he left the room. Outside the door he
+chuckled. He was still smiling when he walked up to the cashier's
+wicket, where young Gilman sat tense and white-faced. Wix indorsed the
+check, and handed it through the wicket.
+
+"Here's your twenty-five hundred, Cliff," said he. "You can turn it
+over on the books of the bank as soon as you like."
+
+Gilman strove to voice his great relief, but his lips quivered and his
+eyes filled, and he could only turn away speechless. Wix had gone out,
+and Gilman was still holding in his nerveless fingers the check that
+had saved him, when Smalley appeared at his side.
+
+"Ah," said Smalley; "I see you have the check I gave Mr. Wix. Did he
+deposit?"
+
+"No, sir," replied Gilman, in a low voice; "he took currency."
+
+Mr. Smalley visibly winced.
+
+"A bill of exchange might have done him just as well," he protested.
+"No non-employing person has need of actual currency in that amount.
+I'm afraid young Wix is very extravagant--very. By the way, Mr.
+Gilman, I have been forced, for protection and very much against my
+will, to take some stock in an enterprise with which I can not have my
+name associated for very obvious business reasons; so I have taken the
+liberty of having the stock made out in your name," and, before young
+Gilman's eyes, he spread his twenty-five-share certificate of The La
+Salle Grain and Stock Brokerage Company.
+
+Gilman, pale before, went suddenly ghastly. The blow of mockery had
+come too soon upon the heels of his relief.
+
+"I can't have it," he managed to stammer through parched lips. "I must
+refuse, sir. I--I can not be connected in any way with that business,
+Mr. Smalley. I--I abhor it. Never, as long as I live--"
+
+Suddenly the fish-white face and staring eyes of Gilman were not in
+the line of Mr. Smalley's astonished vision, for Gilman had slid to
+the floor, between his high stool and his desk. Sam Glidden, coming
+into the bank a moment after, found Smalley working feverishly over
+the prostrate form of his feebly reviving clerk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+ JONATHAN REUBEN WIX CASTS ASIDE HIS ONLY
+ HANDICAP AND DISAPPEARS FOR EVER
+
+
+Just as Jonathan Reuben Wix reached his home, a delivery man was
+taking in at the front door a fine dresser trunk. On the porch stood a
+new alligator traveling-bag, and a big, new suit-case of thick sole
+leather, trimmed profusely with the most expensive knobs and clamps,
+and containing as elaborate a toilet set as is made for the use of
+men. In the hall he found five big pasteboard boxes from his tailor.
+He had the trunk and the suit-case and the traveling-bag delivered up
+to his room; the clothing he carried up himself.
+
+That morning he had dressed himself in new linen throughout. Now he
+took off the suit he wore and put on one of the new business suits. He
+opened half a dozen huge bundles of haberdashery which he had
+purchased within the past week, and began packing them in his trunk:
+underwear, shirts, socks, collars, cravats, everything brand new and
+of the choicest quality. He packed away the other new business suit,
+the Prince Albert, the tuxedo, the dress suit--the largest individual
+order his tailor had ever received--putting into his trunk and
+suit-case and traveling-bag not one thing that he had ever worn
+before; nor did he put into any of his luggage a single book or
+keepsake, for these things had no meaning to him. When he was
+completely dressed and packed he went to his mother's room and knocked
+on the door. It was her afternoon for the Women Journalists' Club, and
+she was very busy indeed over a paper she was to read on _The Press:
+Its Power for Evil_. Naturally, interruptions annoyed her very much.
+
+"Well, what is it, son?" she asked in her level, even tone as he came
+into the room. Her impatience was very nicely suppressed, indeed.
+
+"I'm going to New York on the six-thirty," he told her.
+
+"Really, I don't see how I can spare any money until the fifteenth,"
+she objected.
+
+"I have plenty of money," he assured her.
+
+"Oh," she replied with evident relief, and glanced longingly back at
+her neatly written paper.
+
+"I can even let you have some if you want it," he suggested.
+
+"No, thank you. I have sufficient, I am sure, portioned out to meet
+all demands, including the usual small surplus, up to the fifteenth.
+It's very nice of you to offer it, however."
+
+"You see," he went on, after a moment's hesitation, "I'm not coming
+back."
+
+She turned now, and faced him squarely for the first time.
+
+"You'd better stay here," she told him. "I'm afraid you'll cost me
+more away from home than you do in Filmore."
+
+"I shall never cost you a cent," he declared. "I have found out how
+to make money."
+
+She smiled in a superior way.
+
+"I am a bit incredulous; but, after all, I don't see why you
+shouldn't. Your father at least had that quality, and you should have
+inherited something from him besides"--and she paused a trifle--"his
+name." She sighed, and then continued: "Very well, son, I suppose you
+must carve out your own destiny. You are quite old enough to make the
+attempt, and I have been anticipating it for some time. After all, you
+really ought to have very little trouble in impressing the world
+favorably. You dress neatly," she surveyed him critically, "and you
+make friends readily. Shall I see you again before you go?"
+
+"I scarcely think so. I have a little down-town business to look
+after, and shall take dinner on the train; so I'll just say good-by
+to you now."
+
+He shook hands with her and stooped down, and they kissed each other
+dutifully upon the cheek. Mrs. Wix, being advanced, did not believe
+in kissing upon the mouth. After he had gone, a fleeting impression
+of loneliness weighed upon her as much as any purely sentimental
+consideration could weigh. She looked thoughtfully at the closed door,
+and a stirring of the slight maternal instinct within her made her
+vaguely wistful. She turned, still with that faint tugging within her
+breast which she could not understand, and it was purely mechanical
+that her eyes, dropping to the surface of the paper, caught the
+sentence: "Mental suggestion, unfit for growing minds, is upon every
+page." The word "Mental" seemed redundant, and she drew her pen
+through it, neatly changing the "s" in "suggestion" to a capital.
+
+A cab drove past Wix as he started down the street and he saw Smalley
+in it. He turned curiously. What was Smalley doing there? He stopped
+until he saw the cab draw up in front of Gilman's house. He saw
+Smalley assist young Gilman out of the cab, and Gilman's mother run
+out to meet them. He was thoughtful for a moment over that, then he
+shrugged his shoulders and strode on.
+
+On the train that night as he swaggered into the dining-car, owning
+it, in effect, and all it contained, he saw, seated alone at a far
+table, no less a person than Horace G. Daw, as black and as natty as
+ever, and with a mustache grown long enough to curl a little bit at
+the ends.
+
+"Hello, old pal," greeted Daw. "Where now?"
+
+"I'm going out alone into the cold, cold world, to make fortunes and
+spend them."
+
+"Half of that stunt is a good game," commented Mr. Daw.
+
+Wix chuckled.
+
+"Both ends of it look good to me," he stated. "I've found the recipe
+for doing it, and it was you that tipped off the plan."
+
+"I certainly am the grand little tipper-off," agreed Daw, going back
+in memory over their last meeting. "You got to that three thousand,
+did you?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Wix. "I only used it to get a little more. Our friend
+Gilman has his all back again. Of course, I didn't use your plan as it
+laid. It was too raw, but it gave me the suggestion from which I doped
+out one of my own. I've got to improve my system a little, though. My
+rake-off's too small. In the wind-up I handled twenty-one thousand
+dollars, and only got away with eight thousand-odd of it for myself."
+
+"You haven't it all with you?" asked Daw, a shade too eagerly.
+
+Wix chuckled, his broad shoulders heaving and his pink face rippling.
+
+"No use, kind friend," said he. "Just dismiss it from your active but
+greedy mind. If anybody gets away unduly with a cent of this wad, all
+they need to do is to prove it to me, and I'll make them a present of
+the balance. No, my dark-complected brother, the bulk of it is in a
+safe place in little old New York, where I can go get it as I need it;
+but I have enough along to buy, I think. It seems to me you bought
+last," and they both grinned at the reminiscence.
+
+"I wasn't thinking of trying to annex any of that coin," lied Mr. Daw
+glibly, and changing entirely his attitude toward Mr. Wix as his
+admiration grew; "but I was thinking that we might cook up something
+together. I'll put up dollar for dollar with you. I've just been
+harvesting, myself."
+
+Again Wix chuckled.
+
+"Declined with thanks," he returned. "I don't mind trailing around a
+bit with you when we get to New York, and also meeting the carefully
+assorted selection of dead-sure-thing geniuses who must belong to your
+set, but I'll go no further. For one thing, I don't like the idea of a
+partner. It cramps me to split up. For another thing, I wouldn't like
+to hook up in business with you. You're not safe enough; you trifle
+too much with the law, which is not only foolish but unnecessary."
+
+"Yes?" retorted Daw. "How about this eight thousand or so that you
+committed mayhem on Filmore to get?"
+
+"Good, honest money," asserted Wix. "I hate to boast about your
+present companion, but I don't owe Filmore a cent. I merely worked up
+a business and sold my share in it. Of course, they didn't know I was
+selling it, but they'll find out when they go over the records, which
+are perfectly straight. If, after buying the chance to go into
+business, they don't know what to do with it, it isn't my fault."
+
+A traveling man who had once been in the office of The La Salle Grain
+and Stock Brokerage Company for an afternoon's flyer, and who
+remembered the cordial ease with which Wix had taken his money, came
+over to the table.
+
+"Hello, Wix; how's tricks?" he hailed.
+
+Wix looked up at him blankly but courteously.
+
+"Beg pardon," he returned.
+
+The face of the traveling man fell.
+
+"Aren't you Mr. Wix, of Filmore?"
+
+"I'm afraid not," replied Wix, smiling with great cordiality. "Sorry
+to disappoint you, old man."
+
+"Really, I beg your pardon," said the traveling man, perplexed. "It is
+the most remarkable resemblance I ever saw. I would have sworn you
+were Wix. He used to run a brokerage shop in the Grand Hotel in
+Filmore."
+
+"Never was in the town," lied Wix.
+
+The man turned away. Daw looked after him with an amused smile.
+
+"By the way, Wix, what is your name now?"
+
+"By George, I haven't decided! I was too busy getting rid of my only
+handicap to think up a substitute. I'll tell you in a minute," and on
+the spur of the moment he invented a quite euphonious name, one which
+was to last him for a great many years.
+
+"Wallingford," he announced. "How does that hit you? J. Rufus
+Wallingford!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+ J. RUFUS PROVES A SAD, SAD DISAPPOINTMENT TO
+ SOME CLEVER PEOPLE
+
+
+They were glad to see Blackie Daw back on Broadway--that is, in the
+way that Broadway is glad; for they of the Great White Way have no
+sentiments and no emotions, and but scant memories. About Blackie's
+companion, however, they were professionally curious.
+
+"Who is this large, pink Wallingford person, and where did you get
+it?" asked Mr. Phelps, whose more familiar name was Green-Goods Harry.
+
+Mr. Daw, standing for the moment with Mr. Phelps at the famous old
+cheese-and-crackers end of the Fifth Avenue bar, grinned.
+
+"He's an educated Hick," he responded, "and I got him out of the heart
+of the hay-fever district, right after he'd turned a classy little
+trick on the easy producers of his childhood home. Sold 'em a bankrupt
+bucket-shop for eight thousand, which is going _some_!"
+
+Mr. Phelps, natty and jaunty and curly-haired, though shifty of eye,
+through long habit of trying to watch front and back doors both at
+once, looked with a shade more interest across at the imposing white
+vest of young J. Rufus where he stood at the bar with fat and somber
+Badger Billy. There was a cocksure touch to the joviality of young
+Wallingford which was particularly aggravating to an expert like Mr.
+Phelps. Young Wallingford was so big, so impressive, so sure of
+pleasing, so certain the world was his oyster, that it seemed a shame
+not to give his pride a tumble--for his own sake, of course.
+
+"Has he got the eight thousand on him, do you think?" asked the
+green-goods one, his interest rapidly increasing.
+
+"Not so you could notice it," replied Daw with conviction. "He's a
+wise prop, I tell you. He's probably lugging about five hundred in his
+kick, just for running expenses, and has a time-lock on the rest."
+
+"We might tinker with the lock," concluded Harry, running his fingers
+through his hair to settle the curls; "it's worth a try, anyhow."
+
+"You'll bounce right off," declared Mr. Daw. "I tried to put a sweet
+one over in his home town, and he jolted the game so quick he made
+its teeth rattle."
+
+"Then you owe him one," persisted Mr. Phelps, whom it pained to see
+other people have money. "Do you mean to say that any pumpkin husker
+can't be trimmed?"
+
+"Enjoy yourself," invited Mr. Daw with a retrospective smile, "but
+count me out. I'm going to Boston next week, anyhow. I'm going to open
+a mine investment office there. It's a nice easy money mining
+district."
+
+"For pocket mining," agreed his friend dryly.
+
+Young Wallingford, in his desire for everybody to be happy, looked
+around for them at this juncture, and further conversation was out of
+the question. The quartet lounged out of the Fifth Avenue bar and
+across Broadway in that dull way peculiar to their kind. At the
+Hoffman House bar they were joined by a cadaverous gentleman known to
+the police as Short-Card Larry, whose face was as that of a corpse,
+but whose lithe, slender fingers were reputed to have brains of their
+own, and the five of them sat down for a dull half-hour. Later they
+had dull dinner together, strolled dully into four theaters, and,
+still dull, wound up in the apartments of Daw and J. Rufus.
+
+"What do you think of them?" asked Blackie in their first aside
+moment.
+
+"They give me the pip," announced J. Rufus frankly. "Why do they hate
+themselves so? Why do they sit in the darkest corners and bark at
+themselves? Can't they ever drink enough to get oiled happy?"
+
+"Not and do business with strangers on Broadway," Daw explained.
+"Phelps has been shy about thin glassware for five years, ever since
+he let an Indiana come-on outdrink him and steal his own money back;
+Billy Banting stops after the third glass of anything, on account of
+his fat; the only time Larry Teller ever got pinched was for getting
+spifflicated and telling a reporter what police protection cost him."
+
+"If I wasn't waiting to see one of them bite himself and die of poison
+I'd cut 'em out," returned Mr. Wallingford in the utmost disgust. "Any
+one of them would slung-shot the others for the price of a cigarette.
+Don't they ever get interested in anything?"
+
+"Nothing but easy marks," replied Mr. Daw with a grin. "The way
+they're treating you is a compliment. They're letting you just be one
+of them."
+
+"One of them! Take it back, Blackie!" protested Wallingford. "Why,
+they're a bunch of crooks!"
+
+In deep dejection young Wallingford, rejoining his guests, ordered
+three lemonades and a quart of champagne. There was a trifle more of
+animation among them now, however, since they had been left alone for
+a few moments. They told three or four very hilarious stories, in each
+of which the nub of the joke hinged on an utter disregard of every
+human decency. Then, quite casually and after a lull, Badger Billy
+smoothed down his smart vest and cleared his throat.
+
+"What do you fellows say to a little game of stud?" he proposed.
+
+"Sure!" agreed Wallingford with alacrity. "That's the first live noise
+I've heard to-day," and he went to the 'phone at once to order up some
+cards and chips.
+
+With his back turned, the three lemonade drinkers exchanged pleased
+smiles. It was too easy! Mr. Daw let them smile, and reposed
+calmly upon the couch, entirely disinterested. Professional ethics
+forbade Mr. Daw to interfere with the "trimming" of the jovial Mr.
+Wallingford, and the instincts of a gentleman, with which, of course,
+they were all perfectly provided, prevented him from taking any part
+in that agreeable operation. To his keen amusement the game was very
+brief--scarcely more than twenty minutes.
+
+It was Short-Card Larry who, with a yawn, discovered suddenly how late
+it was and stopped the game. As he rose to go, young Wallingford,
+chuckling, was adding a few additional bills to the plethoric roll in
+his pocket.
+
+"What made you chop the game, Larry?" asked Green-Goods Harry in
+impatient wonder. "We'd ought to strung it along a while. What made
+you let him have that hundred and fifty so quick?"
+
+"Let him!" retorted Larry savagely. "He took it! Twice I gave him aces
+back to back on my deal, and he turned them down without a bet. On his
+own deal he bet his head off on a pair of deuces, with not one of us
+three able to draw out on him; and right there he cops that hundred
+and fifty himself. He's too fresh!"
+
+"Well," said Badger Billy philosophically, "he'll come for more."
+
+"Not of mine, he won't," snorted the dexterous one. "I can't do any
+business against a man that's next. I hope he chokes."
+
+"There you go again, letting your temper get the best of you,"
+protested Mr. Phelps, himself none too pleased. "This fresh lollop has
+coin, and it ought to be ours."
+
+"Ought to be? It _is_ ours," growled Larry. "We'll get it if we have
+to mace him, at noon, on Madison Square."
+
+In the meantime J. Rufus was chuckling himself to sleep. He rose at
+eleven, breakfasted at one, and was dressing and planning to besiege
+New York upon his own account, when the telephone advised him that Mr.
+Phelps was down-stairs with a parched throat, and on the way up to get
+a drink!
+
+"Fine business!" exclaimed J. Rufus with a cordiality which had
+nothing whatever to do with the puzzled expression on his brow.
+"What'll you have? I'll order it while you're on your way up."
+
+"Nothing stronger than a Scotch highball," was the reply, whereupon
+young Wallingford, as soon as the telephone was clear, ordered the
+materials therefor.
+
+"Fine business," he repeated to himself musingly as he stood with his
+hand still on the receiver after he had hung it up; "also rough work.
+This thirst is too sudden."
+
+He was still most thoughtful when Mr. Phelps knocked at the door, and
+had yet more food for contemplation when the caller began talking with
+great enthusiasm about his thirst, explaining the height and breadth
+and thickness thereof, its atomic weight, its color and the excellent
+style of its finish.
+
+"If I just had that thirst outside of me where I could get at it, I
+could make an airship of it," he imaginatively concluded.
+
+"Gas or hot air?" inquired young Mr. Wallingford, entirely unmoved, as
+he poured the highballs and dosed both quite liberally with the
+Scotch, whereat Mr. Phelps almost visibly winced, though gamely
+planning to drink with every appearance of enjoyment.
+
+"Where's Daw?" he asked, after two sips which he tried to make seem
+like gulps.
+
+"Gone out to a print-shop to locate a couple of gold mines," announced
+Wallingford dryly, holding his own opinion as to the folly of Mr.
+Daw's methods. They were so unsanctioned of law.
+
+"Sorry for that," said Mr. Phelps, who was nevertheless relieved to
+hear it, for Mr. Daw was rather in the way. "We've got a great game
+on; a Reuben right from Reubensville, with five thousand of pa's
+money in his jeans. I wanted you fellows to come and look him over."
+
+"What's the use?" returned Wallingford. "Come down to the lobby and
+I'll show you a whole procession of them."
+
+"No, but they're not so liberal as this boy," protested Phelps
+laughing. "He just naturally hones and hones and hones to hand us this
+nice little bundle of kale, and we're going to accommodate him. You
+can get in on the split-up if you want to. Daw would have first
+choice, of course, if he was here, but since he isn't you might as
+well come in. Five thousand iron men are hardly worth bending to pick
+up, I guess."
+
+"Oh, I don't know," objected Wallingford condescendingly. "It would
+make cigarette money, anyhow, if there are not too many to tear it
+apart."
+
+"It takes just four," Phelps informed him: "look-out, spieler,
+panel-man and engraver."
+
+Wallingford shook his head, refusing even to speculate on the duties
+of the four named actors in the playlet.
+
+"Four makes it hardly union wages," he objected.
+
+Green-Goods Harry cast at him a look of quick dislike.
+
+"I know, but wait till you see the sample," he insisted. "The fun's
+worth more than the meat. He's the rawest you ever saw; wants green
+goods, you know; thinks there really is green-goods, and stands ready
+to exchange his five thousand of the genuine rhino for twenty of the
+phoney stuff. Of course you know how this little joke is rimmed up. We
+count out the twenty thousand in real money and wrap it up in bales
+before both of his eyes, then put it in a little satchel of which we
+make Mr. Alfred Alfalfa a present. While we're giving him the solemn
+talk about the po-lice Badger Billy switches in another satchel with
+the same kind of looking bales in it, but made out of tissue-paper
+with twenties top and bottom; then we all move, and Henry Whiskers
+don't dare make a holler because he's in on a crooked play himself;
+see?"
+
+"I see," assented Wallingford still dryly. "I've been reading the
+papers ever since I was a kid. What puzzles me is how you can find
+anybody left in the world who isn't hep."
+
+"There's a new sucker born every minute," returned Mr. Phelps airily,
+whereat Wallingford, detecting that Mr. Phelps held his intelligence
+and education so cheaply as to offer this sage remark as original,
+inwardly fumed.
+
+"Come on and look him over, anyhow," insisted Phelps, rising.
+
+Wallingford arose reluctantly.
+
+"What's the matter with your highball?" he demanded.
+
+"It's great Scotch!" said Mr. Phelps enthusiastically, and drank about
+a tablespoonful with great avidity. "Come on; the boys are waiting,"
+and he surged toward the door.
+
+Wallingford finished his own glass contemplatively and followed with a
+trace of annoyance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ WALLINGFORD HELPS IN A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET
+ PURELY FOR ACCOMMODATION
+
+
+Into the back room of a flashy saloon just off Broadway Mr. Phelps led
+the way, after pausing outside to post Wallingford carefully on all
+their new names, and here they found Billy Banting and Larry Teller in
+company with a stranger, one glance at whom raised Wallingford's
+spirits quite appreciably, for he was so obviously made up.
+
+He was a raw-boned young fellow who wore an out-of-date derby, a
+cheap, made cravat which rode his collar, a cheap suit of loud-checked
+clothes that was entirely too tight for him, and the trousers of
+which, two inches too short, were rounded stiffly out below the knees,
+like stove-pipes, by top-boots which were wrinkled about the ankles.
+Moreover, the stranger spoke with a nasal drawl never heard off the
+stage.
+
+Wallingford, with a wink from Phelps, was introduced to Mr. Pickins
+as Mr. Mombley. Then, leaning down to Mr. Pickins with another
+prodigious wink at Wallingford, Phelps said in a stage-whisper to the
+top-booted one:
+
+"Mr. Mombley is our engraver. Used to work in the mint."
+
+"Well, I'll swan!" drawled Mr. Pickins. "I'd reckoned to find such a
+fine gove'ment expert a older man."
+
+With a sigh Wallingford took up his expected part.
+
+"I'm older than I look," said he. "Making money keeps a man young."
+
+"I reckon," agreed Mr. Pickins, and "haw-hawed" quite broadly. "And
+did you really make this greenback?" he asked, drawing from his vest
+pocket a crinkled new ten-dollar-bill which he spread upon the table
+and examined with very eager interest indeed.
+
+"This is one of that last batch, Joe," Short-Card Larry negligently
+informed Wallingford, with a meaning wink. "I just gave it to him as a
+sample."
+
+"By jingo, it's scrumptious work!" said Mr. Pickins admiringly.
+
+"Yes, they'll take that for a perfectly good bill anywhere," asserted
+Wallingford. "Just spend it and see," and he pushed the button. "Bring
+us a bottle of the best champagne you have in the house," he directed
+the waiter, and with satisfaction he noted the startled raising of
+heads all around the table, _including the head of Mr. Pickins_.
+
+"I don't like to brag on myself," continued Wallingford, taking on
+fresh animation as he began to see humor in the situation, "but I
+think I'm the grandest little money-maker in the city, in my special
+line. I don't go after small game very often. A ten is the smallest I
+handle. Peters," he suddenly commanded Phelps, "show him one of those
+lovely twenties."
+
+"I don't think I have one of the new ones," said Phelps, moistening
+his lips, but nevertheless reaching for his wallet. "I think the only
+twenties I have are those that we put through the aging process."
+
+Wallingford calmly took the wallet from him and as calmly leafed over
+the bills it contained.
+
+"No, none of these twenties is from the new batch," he decided,
+entering more and more into the spirit of the game, "but this
+half-century is one that we're all proud of. Just examine that, Mr.
+Pickins," and closing the wallet he handed it back to Phelps, passing
+the fifty-dollar bill to the stranger. "Billy, give me one of those
+twenties. I'm bound to show Mr. Pickins one of our best output."
+
+Badger Billy, being notorious even among his fellows as a tight-wad,
+swallowed hard, but he produced a small roll of bills and extracted
+the newest twenty he could find. During this process it had twice
+crossed Billy's mind to revolt; but, after all, Wallingford was
+evincing an interest in the game that might be worth while.
+
+"That's it," approved Wallingford, running it through his fingers and
+passing it over to Pickins. He got up from his place and took the
+vacant chair by that gentleman. "I just want you to look at the nifty
+imitation of engine work in this scroll border," he insisted with vast
+enthusiasm, while Mr. Pickins cast a despairing glance, half-puzzled
+and half-bored, at the others of the company, themselves awed into
+silence.
+
+He was still explaining the excellent work in the more intricate
+portions of the two designs when the waiter appeared with the wine,
+and Wallingford only interrupted himself long enough nonchalantly to
+toss the ten-dollar bill on the tray after the glasses were filled.
+Then, with vast fervor, he returned to the counterfeiting business,
+with the specimens before him as an inspiring text.
+
+The waiter brought back two dollars in silver.
+
+"Just keep the change," said Wallingford grandly, and then, as the
+waiter was about to withdraw, he quickly handed up the fifty and the
+twenty-dollar bills to him. "Just take this twenty, George," said he
+to the waiter, "and run down to the cigar-store on the corner and buy
+some of those dollar cigars. You might as well get us about three
+apiece. Then take this fifty and get us a box for _The Prince of
+Pikers_ to-night. Hustle right on, now," and he gave the waiter a
+gentle but insistent shove on the arm that had all the effect of
+bustling him out of the room. "We'll show Mr. Pickins a good time," he
+exultantly declared. "We'll show him how easy it is to live on soft
+money like this."
+
+[Illustration: "Just keep the change," said Wallingford grandly]
+
+Wallingford had held the floor for fifteen solid minutes. Now he
+paused for some one else to offer a remark, his eager eye glowing
+with the sense of a duty not only well, but brilliantly, performed,
+as it roved from one to the other in search of approval. But feeble
+encouragement was in any other eye. Four men could have throttled him,
+singly and in company. Wallingford was too enthusiastic an actor. He
+was taking the part entirely too well, and a vague doubt began to
+cross the minds of the other gentlemen in the party as to whether he
+would do or not. It was Short-Card Larry who first recovered his poise
+and broke the dismal silence.
+
+"Show him one or two of those new hundreds, Mombley," he invited
+Wallingford with almost a snarl.
+
+Wallingford merely smiled in a superior way.
+
+"You know I never carry any but the genuine," he said in mild
+reproach. "It wouldn't do, you know. Anyhow, are we sure that Mr.
+Pickins wants to invest?"
+
+Mr. Pickins drew a long breath and once more plunged into the
+character which he had almost doffed.
+
+"Invest? Well, I reckon!" he nasally drawled. "If I can get twenty
+thousand dollars as good money as that for five, I'd be a blame fool
+not to take it. And I got the five thousand, too."
+
+Things were coming back to a normal basis now, and the others cheered
+up.
+
+"Look here," Mr. Pickins went on, and, reaching down, he drew off with
+much tugging one of the high boots, in the top of which had reposed a
+package of greenbacks: ten crisp, nice-looking five-hundred-dollar
+bills.
+
+For just a moment Wallingford eyed that money speculatively, then he
+picked up one of the bills and slid it through his fingers.
+
+"It's good money, I suppose," he observed. "You can hardly tell the
+good from the bad these days, except by offering to spend it. We might
+break one of these--say for an automobile ride."
+
+"No, you don't," hurriedly interposed Mr. Pickins, losing his nasal
+drawl for the moment and reaching for the bill, which he put back in
+the package, snapping a weak rubber band around it. "I reckon I don't
+let go of one of these bills till I see something in exchange. I--I
+ain't no greenhorn!"
+
+His nasal drawl had come back, and now seemed to be the cue for all
+the others to affect laughter.
+
+"To be sure he's not," said Mr. Phelps, reaching over to slap him on
+the back in all the jovial heartiness with which a greenhorn is
+supposed to be encouraged. "You're wise, all right, Pickins. We
+wouldn't do business with you if you weren't. You see, we're putting
+ourselves in danger of the penitentiary and we have to be careful.
+More than that, wise people come back; and, with a dozen or so like
+Mr. Pickins shoving the queer for us, we put out about all we can
+make. Nobody in the business, Mr. Pickins, gets as high a price for
+green-goods as we do, and nobody in the business keeps all their
+customers as we do. That's because our output is so good."
+
+This, which was one of the rehearsed speeches, went off very well, and
+they began to feel comfortable again.
+
+"That's me, by Jinks!" announced Pickins, slapping his leg. "I'll be
+one of your steady customers, all right. When'll I get this first
+twenty thousand?"
+
+"Right away," said Mr. Phelps, rising. "Just wait a moment till I talk
+it over with the engraver and see if he has the supply ready."
+
+"The supply's all right," declared Wallingford. "These boys will 'tend
+to the business with you, Mr. Pickins. I'm very glad to have met you.
+I'll probably see you to-night at the show. I have to go back and look
+after a little more engraving just now." And, shaking hands cordially
+with Mr. Pickins, he rose to go.
+
+"Wait a minute, Mombley," said Phelps amidst a general scowl, and
+he walked outside with Wallingford. "Fine work, old man," he
+complimented, keeping his suavity with no little effort. "We can
+go right in and pick our bunch of posies any minute."
+
+"Go right ahead!" said Wallingford heartily. "I'm glad to have helped
+you out a little."
+
+Mr. Phelps looked at him in sour speculation.
+
+"Of course you're in on it," he observed with a great air of making a
+merely perfunctory remark.
+
+"Me?" inquired Wallingford in surprise. "Not on your life. I only
+played engraver for accommodation. I thought I did a grand little
+piece of work, too."
+
+"But we can't go through without you," insisted Mr. Phelps
+desperately, ignoring the other's maddening complacency and sticking
+to the main point. "It takes twenty thousand and we only have five
+thousand apiece. We're looking to you for the other five."
+
+Wallingford looked him squarely in the eyes, with an entire change of
+manner, and chuckled.
+
+"There are four reasons, Phelps, why I won't," he kindly explained.
+"The first is, I never do anything in partnership; second, I never
+pike; third, I won't take a fall out of any game that has the
+brown-and-white-striped clothes at the end of it; fourth, Billy might
+not get the satchels switched right; _extra, I won't fool with any
+farmer that strikes a match on the sole of his boot_!"
+
+The fifth and extra reason was so unexpected and was laid before Mr.
+Phelps with such meaning emphasis that that gentleman could only drop
+his jaw and gape in reply. Wallingford laid both hands on his
+shoulders and chuckled in his face.
+
+"You're a fiercely unimaginative bunch," he said. "Let's don't try to
+do any more business together. Just come up to my room to-night and
+have a friendly game of stud poker."
+
+At last Green-Goods Harry found his tongue.
+
+"You go to hell!" said he.
+
+Back in their common sitting-room, Wallingford found Daw studying some
+gaudy samples of stock certificates. "Blackie, did you tell this gang
+of yours that they didn't drink enough to suit me?" Wallingford
+demanded.
+
+Blackie grinned.
+
+"They wanted to know why you wouldn't warm up," he admitted.
+
+"I see the pretty, pretty lights at last," Wallingford chuckled. "I
+was sure there was something doing when Curly Harry came up here
+claiming a thirst, and went so far as to drink champagne on top of a
+highball."
+
+"He's taking stomach and liver dope right now," Blackie guessed. "You
+see, these Broadway boys are handicapped when they run across a man
+who still has a lining. They lost theirs years ago."
+
+"They lost everything years ago. I'm disappointed in them, Blackie. I
+had supposed that these people of the metropolis had Herman the Great
+looking like a Bowery waiter when it came to smooth work; but they've
+got nothing but thumbs."
+
+"You do them deep wrong, J. Rufus Wallingford Wix," admonished
+Blackie. "I've trailed with this crowd four or five years. They're
+always to be found right here and they always have coin--whether they
+spend it or not."
+
+"They get it gold-bricking New Yorkers, then," declared Wallingford
+contemptuously. "They couldn't cold deck anybody on the rural free
+delivery routes. They wear the lemon sign on their faces, and when one
+of their kind comes west of the big hills we padlock all our money in
+our pockets and lock ourselves in jail till they get out of town."
+
+"What have they been doing to you?" asked Blackie. "You've got a
+regular Matteawan grouch."
+
+"They had the nerve to try to ring me in for the fall guy on a
+green-goods play, baited up with a stage farmer from One Hundred and
+Sixtieth Street," asserted Wallingford. "Don't they ever spring a new
+one here?"
+
+Mr. Blackie Daw only laughed.
+
+"I'm afraid they don't," he confessed. "They take the old ones that
+have got the money for years, and work in new props and scenery on
+them, just like they do in the theaters; and that goes for Broadway."
+
+"It don't go for me," declared Wallingford. "If they come after mine
+again I'll get real peevish and take their flash rolls away from
+them."
+
+"Go to it," invited Blackie. "They need a trimming."
+
+"I think I'll hand it to them," said Wallingford savagely, and started
+to walk out.
+
+"Where are you going?" asked the other.
+
+"I don't know," said Wallingford, "but I am going to scare up some
+excitement in the only way possible for a stranger, and that is go out
+and hunt for it by myself. No New Yorker knows where to go."
+
+In the bar Wallingford found a convivial gentleman from Georgia,
+lonesome like himself, with whom he became firm friends in an hour,
+and it was after midnight when, their friendship still further fixed
+by plenty of liquid cement, he left the Georgian at one of the broad,
+bright entrances in charge of a door-man. It being but a few blocks to
+his own hotel, he walked, carrying with complacent satisfaction a
+burden of assorted beverages that would have staggered most men.
+
+It was while he was pausing upon his own corner for a moment to
+consider the past evening in smiling retrospection, that a big-boned
+policeman tapped him on the shoulder. He was startled for a moment,
+but a hearty voice reassured him with:
+
+"Why, hello, Wix, my boy! When did you come to town?"
+
+A smile broke over Wallingford's face as he shook hands with the
+bluecoat.
+
+"Hello, Harvey," he returned. "I never would have looked for you in
+this make-up. It's a funny job for the ex-secretary of the Filmore
+Coal Company."
+
+"Forget it," returned Harvey complacently. "There's three squares a
+day in this and pickings. Where are you stopping?"
+
+Wallingford told him, and then looked at him speculatively.
+
+"Come up and see me when you go off watch," he invited. "But don't ask
+for me under the name of Wix. It's Wallingford now, J. Rufus
+Wallingford."
+
+"No!" said Harvey. "What did you do at home?"
+
+"Not a thing," protested Wallingford. "I can go right back to Filmore
+and play hop-scotch around the county jail if I want to. I just didn't
+like the name, that's all. But I want to talk with you, Harvey. I
+think I can throw about a hundred or so in your way."
+
+"Not me," returned Harvey with a grin. "That's the price of a murder
+in this town."
+
+"Come up, and I'll coax you," laughed Wallingford.
+
+He walked away quite thoughtfully. Harvey Willis, who had left Filmore
+on account of his fine sense of honor--he had embezzled to pay a poker
+debt--seemed suddenly to fit an empty and an aching void.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A THIRD ARM TO THE OLD-FASHIONED DOUBLE CROSS
+
+
+"The fresh Hick!" observed Mr. Pickins savagely. "I'd like to hand him
+a bunch of knuckles."
+
+Mr. Pickins was not now in character, but was clad in quite ordinary
+good clothes; his prominent cheek-bones, however, had become two white
+spots in the midst of an angrily red countenance.
+
+"I don't know as I blame him so much," said Phelps. "The trouble is
+we sized him for about the intelligence of a louse. Anybody who would
+stand for your Hoop-pole County line of talk wouldn't need such a
+careful frame-up to make him lay down his money."
+
+"There's something to that," agreed Short-Card Larry. "I always did
+say your work was too strong, Pick."
+
+"There ain't another man in the crowd can play as good a Rube,"
+protested Mr. Pickins, touched deeply upon the matter of his art. "I
+don't know how many thousands we've cleaned up on that outfit of
+mine."
+
+"Ye-e-es, but this Wallingford person called the turn," insisted
+Phelps. "The only times we ever made it stick was on the kind of
+farmers that work in eleven-story office buildings. You can fool a man
+with a stuffed dog, but you can't fool a dog with it; and you couldn't
+fool Yap Wallingford with a counterfeit yap."
+
+"Well," announced Mr. Pickins, with emphatic finality, "you may have
+my part of him. I'm willing to let him go right back to Oskaloosa, or
+Oshkosh, or wherever it is."
+
+"Not me," declared Phelps. "I want to get him just on general
+principles. He's handed me too much flossy talk. You know the last
+thing he had the nerve to say? He invited us up to play stud poker
+with him."
+
+"Why don't you?" asked Pickins.
+
+"Ask Larry," said Phelps with a laugh, whereat Larry merely swore.
+
+Badger Billy, who had been silently listening with his eyes half
+closed, was possessed of a sudden inventive gift.
+
+"Yes, why don't you?" he repeated. "If I read this village cut-up
+right, and I think I do, he'll take a sporting chance. Get him over to
+the Forty-second Street dump on a proposition to play two-handed stud
+with Harry there, then pull off a phoney pinch for gambling."
+
+"No chance," returned Phelps. "He'd be on to that game; it's a dead
+one, too."
+
+"Not if you work it this way," insisted Billy, in whom the creative
+spirit was still strong. "Tell him that we're all sore at Harry, here;
+that Harry threw the gang last night and got me put away. I'll have
+McDermott take me down and lock me up on suspicion for a couple of
+hours, so you can bring him down and show me to him. Tell him you've
+found a way to get square. Harry's supposed to have a grouch about
+that stud poker taunt and wants to play Wallingford two-handed, five
+thousand a side. Tell him to go into this game, and that just when
+they have the money and the cards on the table, you'll pull off a
+phoney pinch and have your fake officer take the money and cards for
+evidence, then you'll split up with him."
+
+Billy paused and looked around with a triumphant eye. It was a long,
+long speech for the Badger, and a vivid bit of creative work of which
+he felt justly proud.
+
+"Fine!" observed Larry in deep sarcasm. "Then I suppose we give him
+the blackjack and take it all away from him?"
+
+"No, you mutt," returned Billy, having waited for this objection so as
+to bring out the clever part of his scheme as a climax. "Just as we
+have Dan pull off the pinch, in jumps Sprig Foles and pinches Dan for
+impersonating an officer. Then Sprig cops the money and the cards for
+evidence, while we all make a get-away."
+
+A long and thoughtful silence followed the exposition of this great
+scheme of Billy's. It was Phelps who spoke first.
+
+"There's one thing about it," he admitted: "it's a new one."
+
+"Grandest little double cross that was ever pulled over," announced
+Billy in the pride of authorship.
+
+It was a matter of satisfaction, to say nothing of surprise, to
+Short-Card Larry to note the readiness, even the alacrity, with which
+young Wallingford fell into the trap. Would he accept the traitorous
+Mr. Phelps' challenge if guaranteed that he would win? He would! There
+was nothing young Wallingford detested so much as a traitor.
+Moreover, he had a grouch at Mr. Phelps himself.
+
+Short-Card Larry had expected to argue more than this, and, having
+argument still lying heavily upon his lungs, must rid himself of it.
+It must be distinctly understood that the crowd wanted nothing
+whatever out of this. They merely wished to see the foresworn Mr.
+Phelps lose all his money, so that he could not hire a lawyer to
+defend him, and when he was thus resourceless they intended to have
+him arrested on an old charge and "sent over." They were very severe
+and heartless about Mr. Phelps, but they did not want his money. They
+would not touch it! Wallingford could have it all with the exception
+of the two hundred and fifty dollars he would have to pay to the
+experienced plain-clothes-man impersonator whom Larry, having a wide
+acquaintance, would secure.
+
+Mr. Wallingford understood perfectly. He appreciated thoroughly the
+motives that actuated Mr. Larry Teller and his friends, and those
+motives did them credit. He counted himself, moreover, highly
+fortunate in being on hand to take advantage of the situation. Still
+moreover, after the trick was turned he would stand a fine dinner for
+the entire crowd, including Mr. Pickins, to whom Mr. Teller would
+kindly convey his, Mr. Wallingford's, respects.
+
+Accepting this commission with some inward resentment but outward
+pleasure, Mr. Teller suggested that the game be played off that very
+afternoon. Mr. Wallingford was very sorry. That afternoon and evening
+he had business of grave importance. To-morrow evening, however, say
+at about nine o'clock, he would be on hand with the five thousand, in
+bills of convenient denomination. Mr. Teller might call for him at the
+hotel and escort him to the room, although, from having had the
+location previously pointed out to him, Mr. Wallingford was quite sure
+he could find Mr. Teller's apartment, where the contest was to take
+place. Left alone, Mr. Wallingford, in the exuberance of his youth,
+lay back in his big chair and spent five solid minutes in chuckling
+self-congratulation, to the great mystification of the incoming Mr.
+Daw, whom J. Rufus would not quite trust with his reason for mirth.
+Feeling the need of really human companionship at this juncture, young
+Wallingford called up his convivial friend from Georgia and they went
+out to spend another busy and pleasant afternoon and evening, amid a
+rapidly widening circle of friends whom these two enterprising and
+jovial gentlemen had already managed to attach to them. With an eye to
+business, however, Wallingford carefully timed their wanderings so
+that he should return, alone, on foot, to his own hotel a trifle after
+midnight.
+
+As Mr. Teller and Mr. Wallingford, on the following evening at a few
+minutes before nine, turned into the house on Forty-second Street,
+they observed a sturdy figure helping a very much inebriated man up
+the stone steps just before them, but as the sturdy figure inserted a
+latch-key in the door and opened it with one hand while supporting his
+companion with the other arm, the incident was not one to excite
+comment. Just inside the door the inebriated man tried to raise a
+disturbance, which was promptly squelched by the sturdy gentleman, who
+held his charge firmly in a bearlike grip while Mr. Teller and Mr.
+Wallingford passed around them at the foot of the stairs, casting
+smiling glances down at the face of the perpetually-worried landlady,
+who had come to the parlor door to wonder what she ought to do about
+it.
+
+In the second floor back room Mr. Phelps and Mr. Badger already
+awaited them. Mr. Badger's greeting to Larry was the ordinary
+greeting of one man who had seen the other within the hour; his
+greeting to Mr. Wallingford was most cordial and accompanied by the
+merest shade of a wink. Mr. Phelps, on the other hand, was most grim.
+While not denying the semblance of courtesy one gentleman should
+bestow upon another, he nevertheless gave Mr. Wallingford distinctly
+to understand by his bearing that he was out for Mr. Wallingford's
+financial blood, and after the coldest of greetings he asked gruffly:
+
+"Did you bring cards?"
+
+"One dollar's worth," said Wallingford, tossing four packs upon the
+table. "Ordinary drug-store cards, bought at the corner."
+
+"You see them bought, Larry?" inquired Phelps.
+
+"They're all right, Phelps," Mr. Teller assured him.
+
+"Good," said Mr. Phelps. "Then we might just as well get to work right
+away," and from his pocket he drew a fat wallet out of which he
+counted five thousand dollars, mostly in bills of large denomination.
+
+In the chair at the opposite side of the little table Wallingford sat
+down with equal grimness, and produced an equal amount of money in
+similar denominations.
+
+"I don't suppose we need chips," said Phelps. "The game may not last
+over a couple of deals. Make it table stakes, loser of each hand to
+deal the next one."
+
+They opened a pack of cards and cut for the deal, which fell to
+Wallingford, and they began with a mutual five-dollar ante. Upon the
+turn card of the first deal each placed another five. Upon the third
+card, Phelps, being high, shoved forward a five-dollar bill, which
+Wallingford promptly raised with fifty. Scarcely glancing at his
+hole-card, Phelps let him take the pot, and it became Phelps' deal.
+
+It was a peculiar game, in that Phelps kept the deal from then on,
+betting mildly until Wallingford raised, in which case Wallingford was
+allowed to take down the money. By this means Wallingford steadily
+won, but in such small amounts that Mr. Phelps could have kept playing
+for hours on his five thousand dollars in spite of the annoyance of
+maudlin quarreling from the next room. It was not necessary to enter
+such a long test of endurance to gain mere time, however, for in less
+than a half-hour the door suddenly burst open, its latch-bar losing
+its screws with suspicious ease, and a gaunt but muscular-looking
+individual with a down-drooping mustache strode in upon them,
+displaying a large shining badge pinned on his vest underneath his
+coat.
+
+"Every man keep his seat!" commanded this apparition. "The place is
+pinched as a gambling joint."
+
+Mr. Phelps made a grab for the money on the table.
+
+"Drop that!" said the new-comer, making a motion toward his hip
+pocket, and Mr. Phelps subsided in his chair.
+
+The others had posed themselves most dramatically, and now they sat in
+motionless but trembling obedience to the law, while the man with the
+tin badge produced from his pocket a little black bag into which he
+stuffed the cards and all the money on the table.
+
+"It's a frame-up!" shouted Mr. Phelps.
+
+Loud voices and the overturning of chairs from the room just ahead
+interrupted them at this moment, and not only Mr. Badger and Mr.
+Teller and Mr. Phelps looked annoyed, but the man with the shining
+badge glanced apprehensively in that direction, especially as, added
+to the sudden uproar, there was the unmistakable clang of a
+patrol-wagon in the street.
+
+Simultaneously with this there bounded into the room a large gentleman
+with a red face and a husky voice, who whipped a revolver from his
+pocket the minute he passed the threshold and leveled it at the man
+with the badge, while all the others sprang from their chairs.
+
+"Hands up!" said he, in a hurried but businesslike manner, himself
+apparently annoyed with and apprehensive of the adjoining disturbance
+and the clanging in the street. "This is a sure-enough pinch, but it
+ain't for gambling, you can bet your sweet life! You're all pulled for
+a bunch of cheap sure-thing experts, but this guy has got the
+lock-step comin' to him for impersonating an officer. You've played
+that gag too long, Dan Blazer. Give me that evidence!" and he snatched
+the black bag from the hand of the man with the badge.
+
+Short-Card Larry, standing near what was apparently a closet door, now
+took his cue and threw it open, and, grabbing Wallingford by the arm,
+suddenly pulled him forward. "This is the real thing," he said in a
+hoarse whisper. "We've got to make a get-away or go up. They're
+fierce on us here if the pinch once comes."
+
+"Hello, boys," broke in a third new voice, and then the real shock
+came. The third new voice was not in the play at all, and the
+consternation it wrought was more than ludicrous.
+
+Wallingford, drawing back for a moment, was nearly knocked off his
+feet by fat Badger Billy's dashing past him through that door to the
+back stairway, closely followed by Mr. Phelps, and Mr. Phelps was
+trailed almost as closely by the gaunt man of the badge. Glancing
+toward the door, Mr. Wallingford smiled beatifically. The cause of all
+this sudden exodus was huge Harvey Willis, in his blue suit and brass
+buttons and helmet, with a club in his hand, who, making one dive for
+the husky red-faced man as he, too, was bent on disappearing, whanged
+him against the wall with a blow upon the head from his billy; and as
+the red-faced man fell over, Harvey grabbed the black bag. The crash
+of a breaking water-pitcher from the adjoining room, the shrill voice
+of a protesting and frightened landlady as she came tearing up the
+stairs, and the clamor of one of those lightning-collected mobs in
+front of the house around the patrol-wagon, created a diversion in
+the midst of which Harvey Willis started out into the hall, a
+circumstance which gave the dazed red-faced man an opportunity to
+stagger down the back stairway and out through the alley after his
+companions, whom Wallingford had already followed. They were not
+waiting for him, by any means, but this time were genuinely interested
+in getting away from the law, each man darkly suspicious of all the
+others, and Wallingford, alone, serene in mind.
+
+In the hall, Willis, with a grin, thrust the black bag into his big
+pocket, and turned his attention to the terrified landlady and his
+brother officer of the wagon, who was just then mounting the stairs.
+
+"Case of plain coke jag," he explained, and burst into the noisy room,
+from which the two presently emerged with the shrieking and inebriated
+man who had been brought up-stairs but a short while before.
+
+In Wallingford's room that night, Blackie Daw was just starting for
+Boston when Harvey Willis, now off duty, came up with the little black
+bag, which he dropped upon the table, sitting down in one of the big
+chairs and laughing hugely.
+
+"Mr. Daw, shake hands with Mr. Willis, a friend of mine from
+Filmore," said Wallingford. "Order a drink, Daw."
+
+As he spoke, he untied the bag, and, taking its lower corners, sifted
+the mixture of cards and greenbacks upon the table. Daw, in the act of
+shaking hands, stopped with gaping jaws.
+
+"What in Moses is that?" he asked.
+
+"Merely a little contribution from your Broadway friends," Wallingford
+explained with a chuckle. "Harvey, what do I owe out of this?"
+
+"Well," said Harvey, sitting down again and naming over the cast of
+characters on his fingers, "there's seven dollars for the room, and
+the tenner I gave Sawyer to go down on Park Row and hunt up a coke
+jag. Sawyer gets fifty. We ought to slip a twenty to the wagon-man.
+Sawyer will have to pay about a ten-case note for broken furniture,
+and I suppose you'll want to pay this poor coke dip's fine. That's
+all, except me."
+
+"Ninety-seven dollars, besides the fine," said Wallingford, counting
+it up. "Suppose we say a hundred and fifty to cover all expenses, and
+about three hundred and fifty for you. How would that do?"
+
+"Fine!" agreed Harvey. "Stay right here and keep me busy at the
+price."
+
+"Not me," said Wallingford warmly. "I only did this because I was
+peevish. I don't like this kind of money. It may not be honest money.
+I don't know how Phelps and Banting and Teller got this money."
+
+Blackie Daw came solemnly over and shook hands with him.
+
+"Stay amongst our midst, J. Rufus," he pleaded. "We need an infusion
+of live ones on Broadway. Our best workers have grown jaded and
+effete, and our reputation is suffering. Stay, oh, stay!"
+
+"No," refused J. Rufus positively. "I don't want to have anything more
+to do with crooks!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+ IN WHICH J. RUFUS HEARS OF SOME EGYPTIANS
+ WORTH SPOILING
+
+
+It was in a spirit of considerable loneliness that Wallingford came
+back from seeing Blackie Daw to the midnight train, for he had grown
+to like Blackie very well indeed. Moreover, his friend from Georgia
+was gone, and quite disconsolate, for him, he stood in front of the
+hotel wondering about his next move. Fate sent him a cab, from which
+popped a miniature edition of the man from Georgia. The new-comer,
+who had not waited for the cab door to be opened for him, immediately
+offered to bet his driver the price of the fare that the horse
+would eat bananas. He was a small, clean, elderly gentleman, of
+silvery-white hair and mustache, who must have been near sixty, but
+who possessed, temporarily at least, the youth and spirits of thirty;
+and he was one of that sort of looking men to whom one instinctively
+gives a title.
+
+"Can't take a chance, Governor," said the driver, grinning. "I might
+as well go jump off the dock as go back to the stand without them four
+dollars. I'm in bad, anyhow."
+
+"I'll bet you the tip, then," offered the very-much-alive elderly
+gentleman, flourishing a five-dollar bill.
+
+"All right," agreed the driver, eying the money. "Nothing or two
+dollars."
+
+"No, you don't! Not with Silas Fox, you don't!" promptly disputed that
+gentleman. "First comes out of the dollar change two bits for bananas,
+and then the bet is nothing or a dollar and a half that your horse'll
+eat 'em. Why, any horse'll eat bananas," he added, turning suddenly to
+Wallingford. With the habit of shrewdness he paused for a thorough
+inspection of J. Rufus, whose bigness and good grooming and jovial
+pinkness of countenance were so satisfactory that Mr. Fox promptly
+made up his mind the young man could safely be counted as one of the
+pleasures of existence.
+
+"I'll bet _you_ this horse'll eat bananas," he offered.
+
+"I'm not acquainted with the horse," objected Wallingford, with no
+more than reasonable caution. "I don't even know its name. What do you
+want to bet?"
+
+"Anything from a drink to a hundred dollars."
+
+J. Rufus threw back his head and chuckled in a most infectious manner,
+his broad shoulders shaking and his big chest heaving.
+
+"I'll take you for the drink," he agreed.
+
+Two strapping big fellows in regulation khaki came striding past the
+hotel, and Mr. Fox immediately hailed them.
+
+"Here, you boys," he commanded, with a friendly assurance born of the
+feeling that to-night all men were brothers; "you fellows walk across
+the street there and get me a quarter's worth of real ripe bananas."
+
+The soldiers stopped, perplexed, but only for an instant. The driver
+of the cab was grinning, the door-man of the hotel was grinning, the
+prosperous young man by the curb was grinning, and the well-dined and
+wined elderly gentleman quite evidently expected nothing in this world
+but friendly complaisance.
+
+"All right, Senator," acquiesced the boys in khaki, themselves
+catching the grinning contagion; and quite cheerfully they accepted a
+quarter, wheeled abreast, marched over to the fruit stand, bought the
+ripest bananas on sale, wheeled, and marched back.
+
+Selecting the choicest one with great gravity and care, Mr. Silas Fox
+peeled it and prepared for the great test. The driver leaned forward
+interestedly; the two in khaki gathered close behind; the large young
+man chuckled as he watched; the horse poked forward his nose gingerly,
+then sniffed--then turned slowly away!
+
+Mr. Fox was shocked. He caught that horse gently by the opposite jaw,
+and drew the head toward him. This time the horse did not even sniff.
+It shook its head, and, being further urged, jerked away so decidedly
+that it drew its tormentor off the curb, and he would have fallen had
+not Wallingford caught him by the arm.
+
+"I win," declared the driver with relief, gathering up his lines.
+
+"Not yet," denied Mr. Fox, and stepping forward he put his arm around
+the horse's neck and tried to force the banana into its mouth.
+
+This time the horse was so vigorous in its objection that the man came
+near being trampled underfoot, and it was only on the unanimous vote
+of the big man and the two in khaki that he profanely gave up the
+attempt.
+
+"Not that I mind losing the bet," announced Mr. Fox in apology, "but
+I'm disappointed in the be damned horse. That horse loves bananas and
+I know it, but he's just stubborn. Here's your money," and he gave the
+driver his five-fifty; "and here's the rest of the bananas. When you
+get back to the barn you try that horse and see if he won't eat 'em,
+after he's cooled down and in his stall."
+
+"All right," laughed the driver, and started away.
+
+As he turned the corner he was peeling one of the bananas. The loser
+looked after the horse reluctantly, and sighed in finality.
+
+"Come on, young man, let's go get that drink," he said.
+
+Delighted to have found company of happy spirit, Wallingford promptly
+turned with the colonel into the hotel bar.
+
+"Can you beat it?" asked one big soldier of the other as both looked
+after the departing couple in pleased wonder.
+
+At about the same second the new combination was falling eagerly and
+vigorously into conversation upon twelve topics at once.
+
+"You can't do anything without you have a pull," was Silas Fox's
+fallacious theory of life, as summed up in the intimate friendship of
+the second bottle. "That's why I left New Jersey. I had a National
+Building and Loan Association organized down there that would have
+been a public benefactor and a private joy; in business less than six
+months, and already nine hundred honest working-men paying in their
+dollar and a quarter a week; eleven hundred and fifty a week for us to
+handle, and the amount growing every month."
+
+"That's a pretty good start," commented J. Rufus, considering the
+matter carefully as he eyed the stream of ascending bubbles in his
+hollow-stemmed glass. "No matter what business you're in, if you have
+a package of clean, new, fresh dollars every week to handle, some of
+it is bound to settle to the bottom; but there mustn't be too many to
+swallow the settlings."
+
+"Six of us on the inside," mused the other. "Doc Turner, who sells
+real estate only to people who can't pay for it; Ebenezer Squinch, a
+lawyer that makes a specialty of widows and orphans and damage claims;
+Tom Fester, who runs the nicest little chattel-mortgage company that
+ever collected a life income from a five-dollar bill; Andy Grout, who
+has been conducting a prosperous instalment business for ten years on
+the same old stock of furniture; and Jim Christmas, who came in from
+the farm ten years ago to become a barber, shaving nothing but notes."
+
+Young Wallingford sat lost in admiration.
+
+"What a lovely bunch of citizens to train a growing young dollar; to
+teach it to jump through hoops and lay down and roll over," he
+declared. "And I suppose you were in a similar line, Judge?" he
+ventured.
+
+"Nothing like it," denied the judge emphatically. "I was in a decent,
+respectable loan business. Collateral loans were my specialty."
+
+"I see," said J. Rufus, chuckling. "All mankind were not your
+brothers, exactly, but your brothers' children."
+
+"Making me the universal uncle, yes," admitted Mr. Fox, then he
+suddenly puffed up with pride in his achievements. "And I do say," he
+boasted, "that I could give any Jew cards and spades at the game and
+still beat him out on points. I reckon I invented big casino, little
+casino and the four aces in the pawn brokerage business. Let alone my
+gage of the least a man would take, I had it fixed so that they could
+slip into my place by the front door, from the drug-store on one side,
+from the junk-yard on the other, from the saloon across the alley in
+the rear, and down-stairs, from the hall leading to Doc Turner's
+office."
+
+Lost in twinkling-eyed admiration of his own cleverness he lapsed into
+silence, but J. Rufus, eager for information, aroused him.
+
+"But why did you blow the easy little new company?" he wanted to know.
+"I could understand it if you had been running a local building-loan
+company, for in that the only salaried officer is the secretary, who
+gets fifty cents a year, and the happy home-builders pile up double
+compound interest for the wise members who rent; but with a national
+company it's different. A national building-loan company's business is
+to collect money to juggle with, for the exclusive benefit of the
+officers."
+
+"You're a bright young man," said Mr. Fox admiringly. "But the
+business was such a cinch it began to get crowded, and so the
+lawmakers, who were mostly stock-holders in the three biggest
+companies, had a spasm of virtue, and passed such stringent laws for
+the protection of poor investors that no new company could do any
+business. We tried to buy a pull but it was no use; there wasn't pull
+enough to go round; so I'm going to retire and enjoy myself. This
+country's getting too corrupt to do business in," and Mr. Fox relapsed
+into sorrowful silence over the degeneracy of the times.
+
+When his sorrow had become grief--midway of another bottle--a house
+detective prevailed upon him to go to bed, leaving young Wallingford
+to loneliness and to thought--also to settle the bill. This, however,
+he did quite willingly. The evening had been worth much in an
+educational way, and, moreover, it had suggested vast, immediate
+possibilities. These possibilities might have remained vague and
+formless--mere food for idle musing--had it not been for one important
+circumstance: while the waiter was making change he picked some folded
+papers from the floor and laid them at Wallingford's hand. Opened,
+this packet of loose leaves proved to be a list of several hundred
+names and addresses. There could be no riddle whatever about this
+document; it was quite obviously a membership roster of the defunct
+building-loan association.
+
+"The judge ought to have a duplicate of this list; a single copy's so
+easy to lose," mused Wallingford with a grin; so, out of the goodness
+of his heart, he sat up in his room until very late indeed, copying
+those pages with great care. When he sent the original to Mr. Fox's
+room in the morning, however, he very carelessly omitted to send the
+duplicate, and, indeed, omitted to think of remedying the omission
+until after Mr. Fox had left the hotel for good.
+
+Oh, well, a list of that sort was a handy thing for anybody to have
+around. The names and addresses of nine hundred people naive enough to
+pay a dollar and a quarter a week to a concern of whose standing they
+knew absolutely nothing, was a really valuable curiosity indeed. It
+was pleasant to think upon, in a speculative way.
+
+Another inspiring thought was the vision of Doc Turner and Ebenezer
+Squinch and Tom Fester and Andy Grout and Jim Christmas, with plenty
+of money to invest in a dubious enterprise. It seemed to be a call to
+arms. It would be a noble and a commendable thing to spoil those
+Egyptians; to smite them hip and thigh!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+ INTRODUCING A NOVEL MEANS OF EATING CAKE AND
+ HAVING IT TOO
+
+
+Doc Turner and Ebenezer Squinch and Tom Fester, all doing business
+on the second floor of the old Turner building, were thrown into a
+fever of curiosity by the tall, healthy, jovial young man with the
+great breadth of white-waistcoated chest, who had rented the front
+suite of offices on their floor. His rooms he fitted up regardless
+of expense, and he immediately hired an office-boy, a secretary
+and two stenographers, all of whom were conspicuously idle. Doc
+Turner, who had a long, thin nose with a bluish tip, as if it had
+been case-tempered for boring purposes, was the first to scrape
+acquaintance with the jovial young gentleman, but was chagrined to
+find that though Mr. Wallingford was most democratic and easily
+approachable, still he was most evasive about his business. Nor
+could any of his office force be "pumped."
+
+"The People's Mutual Bond and Loan Company" was the name which a sign
+painter, after a few days, blocked out upon the glass doors, but the
+mere name was only a whet to the aggravated appetites of the other
+tenants. Turner and Fester and Squinch were in the latter's office,
+discussing the mystery with some trace of irritation, when the source
+of it walked in upon them.
+
+"I'm glad to find you all together," said young Wallingford breezily,
+coming at once to the point of his visit. "I understand that you
+gentlemen were once a part of the directorate of a national building
+and loan company which suspended business."
+
+Ebenezer Squinch, taking the chair by virtue of his being already
+seated with his long legs elevated upon his own desk, craned forward
+his head upon an absurdly slender neck, which much resembled that of
+a warty squash, placed the tips of his wrinkled fingers together and
+gazed across them at Wallingford quite judicially.
+
+"Suppose we were to admit that fact?" he queried, in non-committal
+habit.
+
+"I am informed that you had a membership of some nine hundred when you
+suspended business," Wallingford went on, "and among your effects you
+have doubtless retained a list of that membership."
+
+"Doubtless," assented Lawyer Squinch after a thoughtful pause,
+deciding that he might, at least partially, admit that much.
+
+"What will you take for that list, or a copy of it?" went on Mr.
+Wallingford.
+
+Mr. Turner, Mr. Squinch and Mr. Fester looked at one another in turn.
+In the mind of each gentleman there instantly sprang a conjecture, not
+as to the actual value of that list, but as to how much money young
+Wallingford had at his command. Both Mr. Fester and Mr. Turner sealing
+their mouths tightly, Mr. Fester straightly and Mr. Turner pursily,
+looked to Mr. Squinch for an adequate reply, knowing quite well that
+their former partner would do nothing ill-considered.
+
+"M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m," nasally hesitated Mr. Squinch after long
+cogitation; "this list, Mr. Wallingford, is very valuable indeed, and
+I am quite sure that none of us here would think of setting a price on
+it until we had called into consultation our other former directors,
+Mr. Grout and Mr. Christmas."
+
+"Let me know as soon as you can, gentlemen," said Mr. Wallingford. "I
+would like a price by to-morrow afternoon at two o'clock, at least."
+
+Another long pause.
+
+"I think," stated Mr. Squinch, as deliberately and as carefully as if
+he were announcing a supreme court decision--"I think that we may
+promise an answer by to-morrow."
+
+They were all silent, very silent, as Mr. Wallingford walked out, but
+the moment they heard his own door close behind him conjecture began.
+
+"I wonder how much money he's got," speculated fish-white Doc Turner,
+rubbing his claw-like hands softly together.
+
+"He's stopping at the Telford Hotel and occupies two of the best rooms
+in the house," said blocky Mr. Fester, he of the bone-hard countenance
+and the straight gash where his lips ought to be.
+
+"He handed me a hundred-dollar bill to take the change out of for the
+first month's rent in advance," supplemented Doc Turner, who was
+manager of the Turner block.
+
+"He wears very large diamonds, I notice," observed Squinch. "I
+imagine, gentlemen, that he might be willing to pay quite two thousand
+dollars."
+
+"He's young," assented Mr. Turner, warming his hands over the thought.
+
+"And reckless," added Mr. Fester, with a wooden appreciation that was
+his nearest approach to a smile.
+
+Their estimate of the youth and recklessness of the lamb-like Mr.
+Wallingford was such that they mutually paused to muse upon it, though
+not at all unpleasantly.
+
+"Suppose that we say twenty-five hundred," resumed Mr. Squinch. "That
+will give each of the five of us five hundred dollars apiece. At that
+rate I'd venture to speak for both Grout and Christmas."
+
+"We three have a majority vote," suggested Doc Turner. "However, it's
+easy enough to see them."
+
+"Need we do so?" inquired Mr. Squinch, in slow thought. "We might--"
+and then he paused, struck by a sudden idea, and added hastily: "Oh,
+of course, we'll have to give them a voice in the matter. I'll see
+them to-night."
+
+"All right," assented Doc Turner, rising with alacrity and looking at
+his watch. "By the way, I have to see a man. I pretty near overlooked
+it."
+
+"That reminds me," said Mr. Fester, heaving himself up ponderously and
+putting on the hat which should have been square, "I have to
+foreclose a mortgage this afternoon."
+
+Mr. Squinch also rose. It had occurred to all three of them
+simultaneously to go privately to the two remaining members and buy
+out their interest in the list for the least possible money.
+
+J. Rufus found the full board in session, however, when he walked into
+Mr. Squinch's office on the following afternoon. Mr. Grout was a
+loose-skinned man of endless down-drooping lines, the corners of his
+eyelids running down past his cheek-bones, the corners of his nose
+running down past his mouth, the corners of his mouth running down
+past his chin. Mr. Christmas had over-long, rusty-gray hair, bulbous
+red ears, and an appalling outburst of scarlet veins netted upon
+his copper-red countenance. Notwithstanding their vast physical
+differences, however, Wallingford reflected that he had never seen
+five men who, after all, looked more alike. And why not, since they
+were all of one mind?
+
+By way of illustrating the point, Mr. Grout and Mr. Christmas, finding
+that the list in question had some value, and knowing well their
+former partners, had steadfastly refused to sell, and the five of
+them, meeting upon the common ground of self-interest, had agreed to
+one thing--that they would ask five thousand dollars for the list, and
+take what they could get.
+
+When the price was named to him, Mr. Wallingford merely chuckled, and
+observed, as he turned toward the door:
+
+"You are mistaken, gentlemen. I did not want to buy out your
+individual businesses. I am willing to give you one thousand dollars
+in stock of my company, which will be two shares each."
+
+The gentlemen could not think of that. It was preposterous. They would
+not consider any other than a cash offer to begin with, nor less than
+twenty-five hundred to end with.
+
+"Very well, then," said J. Rufus; "I can do without your list," which
+was no matter for wonder, since he had a duplicate of it in his desk
+at that very moment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Henry Smalzer was the first man on that defunct building and loan
+company list, and him Wallingford went to see. He found Mr. Smalzer in
+a little shoe repair shop, with a shoe upturned on his knee and held
+firmly in place by a strap passing under his foot. Mr. Smalzer had
+centrifugal whiskers, and long habit of looking up without rising from
+his work had given his eyes a coldly suspicious look. Moreover,
+socialistic argument, in red type, was hung violently upon the walls,
+and Mr. Wallingford, being a close student of the psychological moment
+and man, merely had a loose shoe-button tightened.
+
+The next man on the list was a barber with his hair parted in the
+middle and hand-curled in front. In the shop was no literature but the
+Police Gazette, and in the showcase were six brands of stogies and one
+brand of five-cent cigars. Here Mr. Wallingford merely purchased a
+shave, reflecting that he could put a good germicide on his face when
+he returned to the hotel.
+
+He began to grow impatient when he found that his third man kept a
+haberdashery, but, nevertheless, he went in. A clerk of the pale-eyed,
+lavender-tie type was gracing the front counter, but in the rear, at a
+little standing desk behind a neat railing, stood one who was
+unmistakably the proprietor, though he wore a derby hat cocked on his
+head and a big cigar cocked in the opposite corner of his mouth.
+Tossed on the back part of the desk was a race-track badge, and the
+man was studying a form sheet!
+
+"Mr. Merrill, I believe," said Wallingford confidently approaching
+that gentleman and carelessly laying his left hand--the one with the
+three-carat diamond upon the third finger--negligently upon the rail.
+
+Mr. Merrill's keen, dark-gray eyes rested first upon that three-carat
+ring, then upon the three-carat stone in Mr. Wallingford's carmine
+cravat, then upon Mr. Wallingford's jovial countenance with the
+multiplicity of smile wrinkles about the eyes, and Mr. Merrill himself
+smiled involuntarily.
+
+"The same," he admitted.
+
+"Mr. Merrill," propounded Wallingford, "how would you like to borrow
+from ten dollars to five thousand, for four years, without interest
+and without security?"
+
+Mr. Merrill's eyes narrowed, and the flesh upon his face became quite
+firm.
+
+"Not if I have to pay money for it," he announced, and the
+conversation would have ended right there had it not been for
+Wallingford's engaging personality, a personality so large and
+comprehensive that it made Mr. Merrill reflect that, though this
+jovial stranger was undoubtedly engineering a "skin game," he was
+quite evidently "no piker," and was, therefore, entitled to courteous
+consideration.
+
+"What you have to pay won't break you," said Wallingford, laughing,
+and presented a neatly engraved card conveying merely the name of
+The People's Mutual Bond and Loan Company, the fact that it was
+incorporated for a hundred thousand dollars, and that the capital was
+all paid in. "A loan bond," added Mr. Wallingford, "costs you one
+dollar, and the payments thereafter are a dollar and a quarter a
+week."
+
+Mr. Merrill nodded as he looked at the card.
+
+"I see," said he. "It's one of those pleasant little games, I suppose,
+where the first man in gets the money of the next dozen, and the last
+five thousand hold the bag."
+
+"I knew you'd guess wrong," said Wallingford cheerfully. "The plan's
+entirely different. Everybody gets a chance. With every payment you
+sign a loan application and your receipt is numbered, giving you four
+numbered receipts in the month. Every month one-fourth of the loan
+fund is taken out for a grand annual distribution, and the balance is
+distributed in monthly loans."
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Merrill, the firmness of his facial muscles
+relaxing and the cold look in his eyes softening. "A lottery? Now I'm
+listening."
+
+"Well," replied Wallingford, smiling, "we can't call it that, you
+know."
+
+"I'll take a chance," said Mr. Merrill.
+
+Mr. Wallingford, with rare wisdom, promptly stopped argument and
+produced a beautifully printed "bond" from his pocket, which he made
+out in Mr. Merrill's name.
+
+"I might add," said J. Rufus, after having taken another careful
+inspection of Mr. Merrill, "that you win the first prize, payable in
+the shape of food and drink. I'd like to have you take dinner with me
+at the hotel this evening."
+
+Mr. Merrill, from force of habit, looked at his watch, then looked at
+Mr. Wallingford speculatively.
+
+"Don't mind if I do," said he, quite well satisfied that the dinner
+would be pleasant.
+
+In his own carpenter-shop Wallingford found Mr. Albert Wright at a
+foot-power circular-saw, with his hair and his eyebrows and his
+mustache full of the same fine, white wood dust that covered his
+overalls and jumper; and up over the saw, against the wall, was tacked
+the time-yellowed placard of a long-since-eaten strawberry festival.
+With his eyes and his mind upon this placard, Mr. Wallingford
+explained his new boon to humanity: the great opportunity for a
+four-year loan, without interest or security, of from ten dollars to
+five thousand.
+
+"But this is nothing more nor less than a lottery, under another
+name," objected Mr. Wright, poising an accusing finger, his eyes, too,
+unconsciously straying to the strawberry festival placard.
+
+"Not a bit of it," denied Wallingford, shocked beyond measure. "It is
+merely a mutual benefit association, where a large number of people
+pool their small sums of money to make successive large ones. For
+instance, suppose that a hundred of you should band together to put in
+one dollar a week, the entire hundred dollars to go to a different
+member each week? Each one would be merely saving up a hundred
+dollars, but, in place of every one of the entire hundred of you
+having to wait a hundred weeks to save his hundred dollars, one of you
+would be saving it in one week, while the longest man in would only
+have to pay the hundred weeks. It is merely a device, Mr. Wright, for
+concentrating the savings of a large number of people."
+
+Mr. Wright was forcibly impressed with Wallingford's illustration,
+but, being a very bright man, he put that waving, argumentative
+finger immediately upon a flaw.
+
+"Half of that hundred people would not stay through to the end, and
+somebody would get left," he objected, well pleased with himself.
+
+"Precisely," agreed Mr. Wallingford. "That is just what our company
+obviates. Every man who drops out helps the man who stays in, by not
+having any claim upon the redemption fund. The redemption fund saves
+us from being a lottery. When you have paid in two hundred and fifty
+dollars your bond matures and you get your money back."
+
+"Out of--" hesitated Mr. Wright, greatly perplexed.
+
+"The redemption fund. It is supplied from returned loans."
+
+Again the bright Mr. Wright saw a radical objection.
+
+"Half of those people would not pay back their loans," said he.
+
+"We figure that a certain number would not pay," admitted Wallingford,
+"but there would be a larger proportion than you think who would. For
+instance, you would pay back your loan at the end of four years,
+wouldn't you, Mr. Wright?"
+
+Mr. Wright was hastily sure of it, though he became thoughtful
+immediately thereafter.
+
+"So would a large majority of the others," Wallingford went on.
+"Honesty is more prevalent than you would imagine, sir. However, all
+our losses from this source will be made up by lapsation.
+_Lapsation!_"
+
+Mr. Wallingford laid emphatic stress upon this vital principle and
+fixed Mr. Wright's mild blue eyes with his own glittering ones.
+
+"A man who drops a payment on his bond gets nothing back--that is a
+part of his contract--and the steady investor reaps the benefit, as he
+should. Suppose you hold bond number ten; suppose at the time of
+maturity, bonds number three, five, six, eight and nine have lapsed,
+after having paid in from one-fourth to three-fourths of their money;
+that leaves only bonds one, two, four, seven and ten to be paid from
+the redemption fund. I don't suppose you understand how large a
+percentage of lapsation there is. Let me show you."
+
+From his pocket Mr. Wallingford produced a little red book, showing
+how in industrial and fraternal insurance the percentage of lapsation
+amounts to a staggering percentage, thus reducing by forfeited
+capital the cost of insurance in those organizations.
+
+"So you see, Mr. Wright," concluded Wallingford, snapping shut the
+book and putting it in his pocket, "this, in the end, is only a
+splendid device for saving money and for using it while you are saving
+it."
+
+On this ground, after much persuasion, he sold a bond to the careful
+Mr. Wright, and quit work for the day, well satisfied with his two
+dollars' commission. At a fifteen-dollar dinner that evening Mr.
+Merrill found him a good fellow, and, being interested not only in
+Wallingford's "lottery" but in Wallingford himself, gave him the names
+of a dozen likely members. Later he even went so far as to see some of
+them himself on behalf of the company.
+
+Two days after that Mr. Wallingford called again on his careful
+carpenter, and from that gentleman secured a personal recommendation
+to a few friends of Mr. Wright's particular kind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+ WHEREIN BLACKIE DAW PLAYS A BRIEF CHARACTER
+ BIT
+
+
+Andy Grout came into Doc Turner's office in a troubled mood, every
+down-drooping line in his acid countenance absolutely vertical.
+
+"We've made a mistake," he squeaked. "This young Wallingford is a
+hustler, and he's doing some canvassing himself. In the past week he's
+taken at least forty members for his loan company, and every man Jack
+of them are old members of ours."
+
+Doc Turner began rubbing his frosted hands together at a furious rate.
+
+"Squinch has sold us out!" he charged. "He's let Wallingford copy that
+list on the sly!"
+
+"No, I don't think so," said Grout, more lugubrious than ever. "I made
+some inquiries. You know, a lot of these fellows are customers of
+mine, and I find that he just happened to land on some of them in the
+first place. One recommends him to the others, just as we got them.
+If we don't sell him that list right away he won't need it."
+
+Together they went to Squinch and explained the matter, very much to
+that gentleman's discomfiture and even agitation.
+
+"What's his plan of operation, anyhow?" complained Squinch.
+
+"I don't understand it," returned Andy. "I found out this much,
+though: the members all expect to get rich as soon as the company
+starts operating."
+
+Mr. Squinch pounded his long finger-tips together for some time while
+he pondered the matter.
+
+"It might be worth while to have a share or two of stock in his
+company, merely to find out his complete plan," he sagely concluded.
+"If he's getting members that easy it's quite evident there is some
+good money to be made on the inside."
+
+This was the unanimous opinion of the entire five members of the board
+of directors, and as each member was in positive pain on the subject
+of "good money on the inside," they called a meeting that very
+afternoon in Mr. Squinch's office, inviting Mr. Wallingford to attend,
+which he did with inward alacrity but outward indifference.
+
+"Mr. Wallingford," said Mr. Squinch, "we have about decided to accept
+your offer for our list, but before doing so we will have to ask you
+to explain to us the organization of your company."
+
+"Very simple," Wallingford told them cheerfully. "It's incorporated
+for a hundred thousand dollars; a thousand shares of a hundred dollars
+each."
+
+"All paid in?" Mr. Squinch wanted to know.
+
+"All paid in," replied Mr. Wallingford calmly.
+
+"Indeed!" commented Mr. Squinch. "Who owns the stock?"
+
+"My four office assistants own one share each and I own the balance."
+
+A smile pervaded the faces of all but one of the members of the board
+of directors of the defunct National Building and Loan Association.
+Even Tom Fester's immovable countenance presented a curiously strained
+appearance. Strange as it may seem, the dummy-director idea was no
+novelty in New Jersey.
+
+"I take it, then, that the paid-in capitalization of the company is
+not represented in actual cash," said Mr. Squinch.
+
+"No," admitted Wallingford cheerfully. "As a matter of fact, at our
+first meeting the directors paid me ninety-five thousand dollars for
+my plan of operation."
+
+Again broad smiles illuminated the faces of the four, and this time
+Tom Fester actually accomplished a smile himself, though the graining
+might be eternally warped.
+
+"Then you started in business," sagely deduced Mr. Squinch, with the
+joined finger-tip attitude of a triumphant cross-examiner, "having but
+a total cash capitalization of five thousand dollars."
+
+"Exactly," admitted Wallingford, chuckling. There was no reservation
+whatever about Mr. Wallingford. He seemed to regard the matter as a
+very fair joke.
+
+"You are a very bright young man," Mr. Squinch complimented him, and
+that opinion was reflected in the faces of the others. "And what is
+your plan of loans, Mr. Wallingford?"
+
+"Also very simple," replied the bright young man. "The members are in
+loan groups, corresponding to the lodges of secret societies, and, in
+fact, their meetings are secret meetings. Each member pays in a dollar
+and a quarter a week, and the quarter goes into the expense fund."
+
+The five individually and collectively nodded their heads.
+
+"Expense fund," interpolated Doc Turner, his blue-tipped nose
+wrinkling with the enjoyment transmitted from his whetting palms,
+"meaning yourself."
+
+"Exactly," agreed Wallingford. "The dollar per week goes into the loan
+fund, but at the start there will be no loans made until there is a
+thousand dollars in the fund. Ten per cent. of this will be taken out
+for loan investigations and the payment of loan officers."
+
+"Meaning, again, yourself," squeaked Andy Grout, his vertical lines
+making obtuse bends.
+
+"Exactly," again agreed Wallingford. "Twenty-five per cent. goes to
+the grand annual loan, and the balance will be distributed in loans as
+follows: One loan of two hundred and fifty dollars, one loan of one
+hundred, one of fifty, four of twenty-five and fifteen of ten dollars
+each. These loans will be granted without other security than an
+unindorsed note of hand, payable in four years, without interest, and
+the loans will be made at the discretion of the loan committee,
+meeting in secret session."
+
+Mr. Squinch drew a long breath.
+
+"A lottery!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Hush!" said J. Rufus, chuckling. "Impossible. Every man gets his
+money back. Each member takes out a bond which matures in about four
+years, if he keeps up his steady payments of a dollar and a quarter a
+week without lapsation beyond four weeks, which four weeks may be made
+up on additional payment of a fine of twenty-five cents for each
+delinquent week, all fines, of course, going into the expense fund."
+
+Doc Turner's palms were by this time quite red from the friction.
+
+"And how, may I ask, are these bonds to be redeemed?" asked Mr.
+Squinch severely.
+
+"In their numbered order," announced Mr. Wallingford calmly, "from
+returned loans. When bond number one, for instance, is fully
+paid up, its face value will be two hundred and fifty dollars. If
+there is two hundred and fifty dollars in the redemption fund at that
+time--which the company, upon the face of the bonds, definitely
+refuses to guarantee, not being responsible for the honesty of its
+bond-holders--bond number one gets paid; if not, bond number one waits
+until sufficient money has been returned to the fund, and number
+two--or number five, say, if two, three and four have lapsed--waits
+its redemption until number one has been paid."
+
+A long and simultaneous sigh from five breasts attested the
+appreciation of his auditors for Mr. Wallingford's beautiful plan of
+operation.
+
+"No," announced Mr. Squinch, placing his finger-tips ecstatically
+together, "your plan is not a lottery."
+
+"Not by any means," agreed Doc Turner, rubbing his palms.
+
+Jim Christmas, who never committed himself orally if he could help it,
+now chuckled thickly in his throat, and the scarlet network upon his
+face turned crimson.
+
+"I think, Mr. Wallingford," said Mr. Squinch, "I think that we will
+accept your offer of two shares of stock each for our list."
+
+Mr. Wallingford, having succeeded in giving these gentlemen a grasping
+personal interest in his profits, diplomatically withheld his smile
+for a private moment, and, turning over to each of the five gentlemen
+two shares of his own stock in the company, accepted the list.
+Afterward, in entering the item in his books, he purchased for the
+company, from himself, ten shares of stock for one thousand dollars,
+paying himself the cash, and charged the issue of stock to the expense
+fund. Then he sat back and waited for the next move.
+
+It could not but strike such closely calculating gentlemen as the new
+members that here was a concern in which they ought to have more than
+a paltry two shares each of stock. Each gentleman, exercising his
+rights as a stock-holder, had insisted on poring carefully over the
+constitution and by-laws, the charter, the "bonds," and all the other
+forms and papers. Each, again in his capacity of stock-holder, had
+kept careful track of the progress of the business, of the agents that
+were presently put out, and of the long list of names rapidly piling
+up in the card-index; and each made hints to J. Rufus about the
+purchase of additional stock, becoming regretful, however, when they
+found that the shares were held strictly at par.
+
+In this triumphant period Wallingford was aggravatingly jovial, even
+exasperating, in the crowing tone he took.
+
+"How are we getting along? Fine!" he declared to each stock-holder in
+turn. "Inside of six months we'll have a membership of ten thousand!"
+And they were forced to believe him.
+
+Probably none of the ex-members of the defunct loan association was so
+annoyed over the condition of affairs as Ebenezer Squinch, nor so
+nervously interested.
+
+"I thought you intended to begin collecting your weekly payments when
+you had two hundred and fifty members," he protested to Wallingford,
+"but you have close to five hundred now."
+
+"That's just the point," explained Wallingford. "I'm doing so much
+better than I thought that I don't intend to start the collections
+until I have a full thousand, which will let me have four thousand in
+the very first loan fund, making two hundred and fifty a week to the
+expense fund and a hundred a week for the loan committee, besides one
+thousand dollars toward the grand annual distribution. That will give
+me twenty-six hundred to be divided in one loan of a thousand, one of
+five hundred, one of two hundred and fifty, two of a hundred, four of
+fifty, ten of twenty-five, and twenty of ten dollars each; a grand
+distribution of thirty-nine loans in all. That keeps it from being
+a piker bet; and think what the first distribution and every
+distribution will do toward getting future membership! And they'll
+grow larger every month. I don't think it'll take me all that six
+months to get my ten thousand members."
+
+Mr. Squinch, over his tightly pressed finger-tips, did a little rapid
+figuring. A membership of ten thousand would make a total income for
+the office, counting expense fund and loan committee fund, of three
+thousand five hundred per week, steadily, week in and week out, with
+endless possibilities of increase.
+
+"And what did you say you would take for a half interest?" he asked.
+
+"I didn't say," returned Wallingford, chuckling, "because I wouldn't
+sell a half interest under any consideration. I don't mind confessing
+to you, though, that I do need some money at once, so much so that I
+would part with four hundred and ninety-nine shares, right now, and
+for spot cash, for a lump sum of twenty-five thousand dollars."
+
+"Bound to keep control himself," Mr. Squinch reported to his
+_confreres_, after having reluctantly confessed to himself that he
+could not take care of the proposition alone. "I don't blame him so
+much, either, for he's got a vast money-maker."
+
+"Money without end," complained Andy Grout, his mouth stretching
+sourly down to the shape of a narrow croquet wicket; "and the longer
+we stay out of this thing the more money we're losing. It's better
+than any building-loan."
+
+There was a curious hesitation in Andy Grout's voice as he spoke of
+the building-loan, for he had been heartbroken that they had been
+compelled to give up this lucrative business, and he was not over it
+yet.
+
+Doc Turner rubbed his perpetually lifeless hands together quite
+slowly.
+
+"I don't know whether we're losing money or not," he interjected.
+"There is no question but that Wallingford will make it, but I suppose
+you know why he won't sell a half interest."
+
+"So he won't lose control," said Squinch, impatient that of so obvious
+a fact any explanation should be required.
+
+"But why does he want to keep control?" persisted Doc Turner. "Why, so
+he can vote himself a big salary as manager. No matter how much he
+made we'd get practically no dividends."
+
+It was shrewd Andy Grout whose high squeak broke the long silence
+following this palpable fact.
+
+"It seems to me we're a lot of plumb idiots, anyhow," he shrilled. "He
+wants twenty-five thousand for less than fifty per cent. of the
+stock. That's five thousand apiece for us. I move we put in the five
+thousand dollars apiece, but start a company of our own."
+
+Mr. Grout's suggestion was a revelation which saved Jim Christmas from
+bursting one of his red veins in baffled cupidity. Negotiations with
+Mr. Wallingford for any part of his stock suddenly ceased. Instead,
+within a very short time there appeared upon the door of the only
+vacant office left in the Turner block, the sign: "The People's
+Cooperative Bond and Loan Company."
+
+Mr. Wallingford did not seem to be in the slightest degree put out by
+the competition. In fact, he was most friendly with the new concern,
+and offered Doc Turner, who had been nominated manager of the new
+company, his assistance in arranging his card-index system, or upon
+any other point upon which he might need help.
+
+"There's room enough for all of us," he said cheerfully. "Of course, I
+think you fellows ought to pay me a royalty for using my plan, but
+there's no way for me to compel you to do it. There's one thing we
+ought to do, however, and that is to take steps to prevent a lot of
+other companies from jumping in and spoiling our field. I think I'll
+get right after that myself. I have a pretty strong pull in the state
+department."
+
+They were holding this conversation three days after the sign went
+up, and Mr. Squinch, entering the office briskly to report a new
+agent that he had secured, frowned at finding Mr. Wallingford
+there. Business was business with Mr. Squinch, and social calls
+should be discouraged. Before he could frame his objection in words,
+however, another man entered the office, a stranger, a black-haired,
+black-eyed, black-mustached young man, of quite ministerial appearance
+indeed, as to mere clothing, who introduced himself to Doc Turner as
+one Mr. Clifford, and laid down before that gentleman a neatly folded
+parchment, at the same time displaying a beautiful little gold-plated
+badge.
+
+"I am the state inspector of corporations," said Mr. Clifford, "and
+this paper contains my credentials. I have come to inspect your plan
+of operation, and to examine all printed forms, books and minutes."
+
+Mr. Wallingford rose to go, but a very natural curiosity apparently
+led him to remain standing, while Doc Turner, with a troubled glance
+at Ebenezer Squinch, rose to collect samples of all the company's
+printed forms for the representative of the law.
+
+Mr. Wallingford sat down again.
+
+"I might just as well stay," he observed to Doc Turner, "because my
+interests are the same as yours."
+
+Mr. Clifford looked up at him with a very sharp glance, as both Mr.
+Turner and Mr. Squinch took note. At once, however, Mr. Clifford went
+to work. In a remarkably short space of time, seeming, indeed, to have
+known just where to look for the flaw, he pointed out a phrase in the
+"bond," the phrase pertaining to the plan of redemption.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he gravely, "I am very sorry to say that the state
+department can not permit you to do business with this bond, and that
+any attempt to do so will result in the revoking of your charter. I
+note that this is bond number one, and assume from this fact that you
+have not yet sold any of them. You are very lucky indeed not to have
+done so."
+
+A total paralysis settled upon Messrs. Turner and Squinch, a paralysis
+which was only relieved by the counter-irritant of Wallingford's
+presence. To him Mr. Squinch made his first observation, and it was
+almost with a snarl.
+
+"Seems to me this rather puts a spoke in your wheel, too,
+Wallingford," he observed.
+
+"Is this Mr. Wallingford?" asked Mr. Clifford, suddenly rising with a
+cordial smile. "I am very glad indeed to meet you, Mr. Wallingford,"
+he said as he shook hands with that gentleman. "They told me about you
+at the state department. As soon as I've finished here I'll drop in to
+look at your papers, just as a matter of form, you know."
+
+"If you refuse to let us operate," interposed Mr. Squinch in his most
+severely legal tone, "you will be compelled to refuse Mr. Wallingford
+permission to operate also!"
+
+"I am not so sure about that," replied Mr. Clifford suavely. "The
+slightest variation in forms of this sort can sometimes make a very
+great difference, and I have no doubt that I shall find such a
+divergence; no doubt whatever! By the way, Wallingford," he said,
+turning again to that highly pleased gentleman, "Jerrold sent his
+respects to you. He was telling me a good story about you that I'll
+have to go over with you by and by. I want you to take dinner with me
+to-night, anyhow."
+
+[Illustration: "I shall be very much pleased," said Wallingford]
+
+Jerrold was the state auditor.
+
+"I shall be very much pleased," said Wallingford. "I'll just drop into
+the office and get my papers laid out for you."
+
+"All right," agreed Mr. Clifford carelessly. "I don't want to spend
+much time over them."
+
+Other fatal flaws Mr. Clifford found in the Turner and Company plan of
+operation, and when he left the office of The People's Cooperative
+Bond and Loan Company, the gentlemen present representing that concern
+felt dismally sure that their doom was sealed.
+
+"We're up against a pull again," said Doc Turner despondently. "It's
+the building-loan company experience all over again. You can't do
+anything any more in this country without a pull."
+
+"And it won't do any good for us to go up to Trenton and try to get
+one," concluded Mr. Squinch with equal despondency. "We tried that
+with the building-loan company and failed."
+
+In the office of The People's Mutual Bond and Loan Company there was
+no despondency whatever, for Mr. Wallingford and the dark-haired
+gentleman who had given his name as Mr. Clifford were shaking hands
+with much glee.
+
+"They fell for it like kids for a hoky-poky cart, Blackie," exulted
+Wallingford. "They're in there right this minute talking about the
+cash value of a pull. That was the real ready-money tip of all the
+information I got from old Colonel Fox."
+
+They had lit cigars and were still gleeful when a serious thought came
+to Mr. Clifford, erstwhile Mr. Daw.
+
+"This is a dangerous proposition, though, J. Rufus," he objected.
+"Suppose they actually take this matter up with the state department?
+Suppose they even go there?"
+
+"Well, they can't prove any connection between you and me, and you
+will be out of the road," said Wallingford. "I don't mind confessing
+that it's nearer an infraction of the law than I like, though, and
+hereafter I don't intend to come so close. It isn't necessary. But in
+this case there's nothing to fear. These lead-pipe artists are scared
+so stiff by their fall-down on the building-loan game that they'll
+take their medicine right here and now. They'll come to me before
+to-morrow night, now that I've got them, to collect their money in a
+wad in the new company. They might even start work to-night."
+
+He rose from the table in his private office and went to the door.
+
+"Oh, Billy!" he called.
+
+A sharp-looking young fellow with a pen behind his ear came from the
+other room.
+
+"Billy, here's a hundred dollars for you," said Wallingford.
+
+"Thank you," said Billy. "Who's to be thugged?"
+
+"Nobody," replied Wallingford, laughing. "It's just a good-will gift.
+By the way, if Doc Turner or any of that crowd back there makes any
+advances to you to buy your share of stock, sell it to them, and
+you're a rank sucker if you take less than two hundred for it. Also
+tell them that you can get three other shares from the office force at
+the same price."
+
+Billy, with great deliberation, took a pin from the lapel of his coat
+and pinned his hundred-dollar bill inside his inside vest pocket, then
+he winked prodigiously, and without another word withdrew.
+
+"He's a smart kid," said Blackie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+ WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT OF THE MANAGEMENT
+ OF HIS OWN COMPANY
+
+
+In the old game of "pick or poe" one boy held out a pin, concealed
+between his fingers, and the other boy guessed whether the head or
+point was toward him. It was a great study in psychology. The boy who
+held the pin had to do as much guessing as the other one. Having held
+forward heads the first time, should he reverse the pin the second
+time, or repeat heads? In so far as one of the two boys correctly
+gaged the elaborateness of the other's mental process he was winner.
+At the age when he played this game Wallingford usually had all the
+pins in school. Now he was out-guessing the Doc Turner crowd. He had
+foreseen every step in their mental process; he had foreseen that
+they would start an opposition company; he had foreseen their
+extravagant belief in his "pull," knowing what he did of their
+previous experience, and he had foreseen that now they would offer
+to buy up the stock held by his office force, so as to secure control,
+before opening fresh negotiations for the stock he had offered them.
+
+That very night Doc Turner called at the house of Billy Whipple to ask
+where he could get a good bird-dog, young Whipple being known as a
+gifted amateur in dogs. Billy, nothing loath, took Doc out to the
+kennel, where, by a fortunate coincidence, of which Mr. Turner had
+known nothing, of course, he happened to have a fine set of puppies.
+These Mr. Turner admired in a more or less perfunctory fashion.
+
+"By the way, Billy," he by and by inquired, "how do you like your
+position?"
+
+"Oh, so-so," replied Billy. "The job looks good to me. Wallingford has
+started a very successful business."
+
+"How much does he pay you?"
+
+Billy reflected. It was easy enough to let a lie slip off his tongue,
+but Turner had access to the books.
+
+"Twenty-five dollars a week," he said.
+
+"You owe a lot to Wallingford," observed Mr. Turner. "It's the best
+pay you ever drew."
+
+"Yes, it is pretty good," admitted Billy; "but I don't owe Wallingford
+any more than I owe myself."
+
+In the dark Mr. Turner slowly placed his palms together.
+
+"You're a bright boy," said Mr. Turner. "Billy, I don't like to see a
+stranger come in here and gobble up the community's money. It ought
+to stay in the hands of home folks. I'd like to get control of that
+business. If you'll sell me your share of stock I might be able to
+handle it, and if I can I'll advance your wages to thirty-five dollars
+a week."
+
+"You're a far pleasanter man than Wallingford," said Billy amiably.
+"You're a smarter man, a better man, a handsomer man! When do we start
+on that thirty-five?"
+
+"Very quickly, Billy, if you feel that way about it." And the friction
+of Mr. Turner's palms was perfectly audible. "Then I can have your
+share of stock?"
+
+"You most certainly can, and I'll guarantee to buy up three other
+shares in the office if you want them."
+
+"Good!" exclaimed Turner, not having expected to accomplish so much of
+his object so easily. "The minute you lay me down those four shares
+I'll hand you four hundred dollars."
+
+"Eight," Billy calmly corrected him. "Those shares are worth a hundred
+dollars apiece any place now. Mine's worth more than two hundred to
+me."
+
+"Nonsense," protested the other. "Tell you what I'll do, though. I'll
+pay you two hundred dollars for your share and a hundred dollars
+apiece for the others."
+
+"Two," insisted Billy. "We've talked it all over in the office, and
+we've agreed to pool our stock and stand out for two hundred apiece,
+if anybody wants it. As a matter of fact, I have all four shares in my
+possession at this moment," and he displayed the certificates, holding
+up his lantern so that Turner could see them.
+
+The sight of the actual stock, the three other shares which the astute
+Billy had secured on the promise of a hundred and fifty dollars per
+share immediately after Wallingford's pointer, clenched the business.
+
+It was scarcely as much a shock to Wallingford as the Turner crowd had
+expected it to be when those gentlemen, having purchased four hundred
+and ninety-nine shares of Wallingford's stock at his own price, sat
+in the new stock-holders' meeting, at the reorganization upon which
+they had insisted, with five hundred and three shares, and J. Rufus
+made but feeble protest when the five of them, voting themselves into
+the directorate, decided to put the founder of the company on an
+extremely meager salary as assistant manager, and Mr. Turner on a
+slightly larger salary as chief manager.
+
+"There's no use of saying anything," he concluded philosophically.
+"You gentlemen have played a very clever game and I lose; that's all
+there is to it."
+
+He thereupon took up the burden of the work and pushed through the
+matter of new memberships and of collections with a vigor and ability
+that could not but commend itself to his employers. The second week's
+collections were now coming in, and it was during the following week
+that a large hollow wheel with a handle and crank, mounted on an axle
+like a patent churn, was brought into the now vacated room of the
+defunct People's Cooperative Bond and Loan Company.
+
+"What's this thing for?" asked Wallingford, inspecting it curiously.
+
+"The drawing," whispered Doc Turner.
+
+"What drawing?"
+
+"The loans."
+
+"You don't mean to say that you're going to conduct this as a
+lottery?" protested Wallingford, shocked and even distressed.
+
+"Sh! Don't use that word," cautioned Turner. "Not even among
+ourselves. You might use it in the wrong place some time."
+
+"Why not use the word?" Wallingford indignantly wanted to know.
+"That's what you're preparing to do! I told you in the first place
+that this was not by any means to be considered as a lottery; that it
+was not to have any of the features of a lottery. Moreover, I shall
+not permit it to be conducted as a lottery!"
+
+Doc Turner leaned against the side of the big wooden wheel and stared
+at Wallingford in consternation.
+
+"What's the matter with you?" he demanded. "Have you gone crazy, or
+what?"
+
+"Sane enough that I don't intend to be connected with a lottery! I
+have conscientious scruples about it."
+
+"May I ask, then, how you propose to decide these so-called loans?"
+inquired Turner, with palm-rubbing agitation.
+
+"Examine the records of the men who have made application," explained
+Wallingford; "find out their respective reputations for honesty,
+reliability and prompt payment, and place the different loans,
+according to that information, in as many different towns as
+possible."
+
+Doc Turner gazed at him in scorn for a full minute.
+
+"You're a damned fool!" he declared. "Why, you yourself intended to
+conduct this as a secret society, and I had intended to have
+representatives from at least three of the lodges attend each
+drawing."
+
+To this Wallingford made no reply, and Turner, to ease his mind,
+locked the door on the lottery-wheel and went in to open the mail. It
+always soothed him to take money from envelopes. A great many of the
+letters pertaining to the business of the company were addressed to
+Wallingford in person, and Turner slit open all such letters as a
+matter of course. Half-way down the pile he opened one, addressed to
+Wallingford, which made him gasp and re-read. The letter read:
+
+     DEAR JIM:
+
+     They have found out your new name and where you are, and
+     unless you get out of town on the first train they'll
+     arrest you sure. I don't need to remind you that they don't
+     hold manslaughter as a light offense in Massachusetts.
+
+     Let me know your new name and address as soon as you have
+     got safely away.
+
+                         YOUR OLD PAL.
+
+Doc Turner's own fingers were trembling as he passed this missive to
+Wallingford, whose expectant eyes had been furtively fixed upon the
+pile of letters for some time.
+
+"Too bad, old man," said Turner, tremulously aghast. "Couldn't help
+reading it."
+
+"My God!" exclaimed Wallingford most dramatically. "It has come at
+last, just as I had settled down to lead a quiet, decent, respectable
+life, with every prospect in my favor!" He sprang up and looked at his
+watch. "I'll have to move on again!" he dismally declared; "and I
+suppose they'll chase me from one cover to another until they finally
+get me; but I'll never give up! Please see what's coming to me, Mr.
+Turner; you have the cash in the house to pay me, I know; and kindly
+get my stock certificates from the safe."
+
+Slowly and thoughtfully Turner took from the safe Wallingford's four
+hundred and ninety-seven shares of stock, in four certificates of a
+hundred shares each, one of fifty and one of forty-seven. Wallingford
+hurried them into an envelope, sitting down to write the address upon
+it.
+
+"What are you going to do with those?" asked Turner with a thoughtful
+frown.
+
+"Send them to my friend in Boston and have him sell them for what he
+can get," replied Wallingford with a sigh. "If the purchasers send any
+one here to find out about the business, you'll, of course, give them
+every facility for investigation."
+
+"To be sure; to be sure," returned Turner. "But, say--"
+
+He paused a moment, and Wallingford, in the act of writing a hasty
+note to go with the stock certificates, hesitated, his pen poised just
+above the paper.
+
+"What is it?" he asked.
+
+"You'll probably have to sell those shares at a sacrifice,
+Wallingford."
+
+"I have no doubt," he admitted.
+
+Doc Turner's palms rubbed out a slow decision while Wallingford
+scratched away at his letter.
+
+"Um-m-m-m-m-m-m--I say!" began Turner gropingly. "Rather than have
+those shares fall into the hands of strangers we might possibly make
+you an offer for them ourselves. Wait till I see Squinch."
+
+He saw Squinch, he saw Tom Fester, he telephoned to Andy Grout, and
+the four of them gathered in solemn conclave. The consensus of the
+meeting was that if they could secure Wallingford's shares at a low
+enough figure it was a good thing. Not one man among them but had
+regretted deeply the necessity of sharing any portion of the earnings
+of the company with Wallingford, or with one another, for that matter.
+Moreover, new stock-holders might "raise a rumpus" about their methods
+of conducting the business, as Wallingford had started to do. Gravely
+they called Wallingford in.
+
+"Wallingford," said Mr. Squinch, showing in his very tone his
+disrespect for a criminal, "Mr. Turner has acquainted us with the fact
+that you are compelled to leave us, and though we already have about
+as large a burden as we can conveniently carry, we're willing to allow
+you five thousand dollars for your stock."
+
+"For four hundred and ninety-seven shares! Nearly fifty thousand
+dollars' worth!" gasped Wallingford, "and worth par!"
+
+"It is a debatable point," said Mr. Squinch, placing his finger-tips
+together, and speaking with cold severity, "as to whether that stock
+is worth par or not at the present moment. I should say that it is
+not, particularly the stock that _you_ hold."
+
+"Even at a sacrifice," insisted Wallingford, "my friend ought to be
+able to get fifty dollars a share for me."
+
+"You must remember, Mr. Wallingford," returned the severe voice, "that
+you are not so free to negotiate as you seemed to be an hour or so
+ago. In a word, you are a fugitive from justice, and I don't know,
+myself, but what our duty, anyhow, would be to give you up."
+
+Not one man there but would have done it if it had been to his
+advantage.
+
+"You wouldn't do that!" pleaded Wallingford, most piteously indeed.
+"Why, gentlemen, the mere fact that I am in life-and-death need of
+every cent I can get ought to make you more liberal with me;
+particularly in view of the fact that I made this business, that I
+built it up, and that all its profits that you are to reap are due to
+me. Why, at twenty thousand the stock would be a fine bargain."
+
+This they thoroughly believed--but business is business!
+
+"Utterly impossible," said Mr. Squinch.
+
+The slyly rubbing palms of Mr. Turner, the down-shot lines of Andy
+Grout's face, the compressed lips of Tom Fester, all affirmed Mr.
+Squinch's decided negative.
+
+"Give me fifteen," pleaded Wallingford. "Twelve--ten."
+
+They would not. To each of these proposals they shook emphatic heads.
+
+"Very well," said Wallingford, and quietly wrote an address on the
+envelope containing his certificates. He tossed the envelope on the
+postal scales, sealed it, took stamps from his drawer and pasted them
+on. "Then, gentlemen, good day."
+
+"Wait a minute," hastily protested Mr. Squinch. "Gentlemen, suppose we
+confer a minute."
+
+Heads bent together, they conferred.
+
+"We'll give you eight thousand dollars," said Squinch as a result of
+the conference. "We'll go right down and draw it out of the bank in
+cash and give it to you."
+
+There was not a trace of hesitation in Wallingford.
+
+"I've made my lowest offer," he said. "Ten thousand or I'll drop these
+in the mail box."
+
+They were quite certain that Wallingford meant business, as indeed he
+did. He had addressed the envelope to Blackie Daw and he was quite
+sure that he could make the shares worth at least ten thousand.
+
+Once more they conferred.
+
+"All right," agreed Mr. Squinch reluctantly. "We'll do it--out of
+charity."
+
+"I don't care what it's out of, so long as I get the money," said
+Wallingford.
+
+In New York, where Wallingford met Blackie Daw by appointment, the
+latter was eager to know the details.
+
+"The letter did the business, I suppose, eh, Wallingford?"
+
+"Fine and dandy," assented Wallingford. "A great piece of work, and
+timed to the hour. I saw the envelope in that batch of mail before I
+made my play."
+
+"Manslaughter!" shrieked Blackie by and by. "On the level, J. Rufus,
+did you ever kill anything bigger than a mosquito?"
+
+"I don't know. I think I made quite a sizable killing down in Doc
+Turner's little old town," he said complacently.
+
+"I don't think so," disputed Blackie thoughtfully. "I may be a
+cheese-head, but I don't see why you sold your stock, anyhow. Seems to
+me you had a good graft there. Why didn't you hold on to it? It was a
+money-maker."
+
+"No," denied Wallingford with decision. "It's an illegal business,
+Blackie, and I won't have anything to do with an illegal business. The
+first thing you know that lottery will be in trouble with the federal
+government, and I'm on record as never having conducted any part of it
+after it became a lottery. Another thing, in less than a year that
+bunch of crooks will be figuring on how to land the capital prize for
+themselves under cover. No, Blackie, a quick turn and legal safety for
+mine, every time. It pays better. Why, I cleaned up thirty thousand
+dollars net profit on this in three months! Isn't that good pay?"
+
+"It makes a crook look like a fool," admitted Blackie Daw.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+ BEAUTY PHILLIPS STEPS INTO THE SPOT-LIGHT FOR
+ HER GRAND SPECIALTY
+
+
+Of course Blackie got his "bit" out of the spoils and hurried away
+to pursue certain fortune-making plans of his own, while young
+Wallingford, stopping in New York, prepared as elaborately to spend
+one. It was some trouble at first to find the most expensive things in
+New York, but at last he located them in the race-track and in Beauty
+Phillips, the latter being the moderately talented but gorgeous "hit"
+of _The Pink Canary_; and the thoroughbreds and Beauty made a splendid
+combination, so perfect in their operations that one beautiful day
+Wallingford awoke to the fact that the time had almost arrived to go
+to work. At the moment he made this decision, the Beauty, as richly
+colored and as expressionless as a wax model, was sitting at his side
+in the grand-stand, with her eyes closed, jabbing a hole at random in
+the card of the fifth race.
+
+"Bologna!" exclaimed Wallingford, noting where the fateful pin-hole
+had appeared. "It's a nice comic-supplement name; but I'll go down to
+the ring and burn another hundred or so on him."
+
+The band broke into a lively air, and the newest sensation of
+Broadway, all in exquisite violet from nodding plume to silken hose,
+looked out over the sunlit course in calm rumination. Her companion,
+older but not too old, less handsome but not too ill-favored, less
+richly dressed but not too plainly, nudged her.
+
+"There goes your Money and Moonshine song again, dearie," she
+observed.
+
+Still calmly, as calmly as a digestive cow in pleasant shade, the star
+of _The Pink Canary_ replied:
+
+"Don't you see I'm trying not to hear it, mother?"
+
+The eyes of "Mrs. Phillips" narrowed a trifle, and sundry tiny but
+sharp lines, revealing much but concealing more, flashed upon her brow
+and were gone. J. Rufus glanced in perplexity at her as he had done a
+score of times, wondering at her self-repression, at her unrevealed
+depths of wisdom, at her clever acting of a most difficult role; for
+Beauty Phillips, being a wise young lady and having no convenient
+mother of her own, had hired one, and by this device was enabled to
+remain as placidly Platonic as a plate of ice-cream. Well, it was
+worth rich gifts merely to be seen in proprietorship of her at the
+supper places.
+
+Wallingford rose without enthusiasm.
+
+"Bologna won't win!" he announced with resigned conviction.
+
+"Sure not!" agreed Beauty Phillips. "Bologna will stop to think at the
+Barrier, and finish in the road of the next race."
+
+"Bologna has to win," Wallingford rejoined, disputing both her and
+himself. "There's only a little over a thousand left in your Uncle
+Jimmy's bank-roll."
+
+"And you had over forty thousand when Sammy Harrison introduced us,"
+said the Beauty with a sigh. "Honest, Pinky, somebody has sure put a
+poison curse on you. You're a grand little sport, but on the level,
+I'm afraid to trail around with you much longer. I'm afraid I'll lose
+my voice or break a leg."
+
+"Old pal," agreed J. Rufus, "the hex is sure on me, and if I don't
+walk around my chair real quick, the only way I'll get to see you will
+be to buy a gallery seat."
+
+"I was just going to talk with you about that, Jimmy," stated the
+Beauty seriously. "You've been a perfect gentleman in every respect,
+and I will say I never met a party that was freer with his coin; but
+I've got to look out for my future. I won't always be a hit, and I've
+got to pick out a good marrying proposition while the big bouquets
+grow with my name already on 'em. Of course, you know, I couldn't
+marry you, because nothing less than a million goes. If you only had
+the money now--"
+
+She looked up at him with a certain lazy admiration. He was
+tremendously big; and rather good-looking, too, she gaged, although
+the blue eyes that were set in his jovial big countenance were
+entirely too small.
+
+In reply to her unfinished sentence J. Rufus chuckled.
+
+"Don't you worry about that, little one," said he. "I only wear you on
+my arm for the same reason that I wear this Tungsten-light boulder in
+my necktie: just to show 'em I'm the little boy that can grab off the
+best there is in the market. Of course it'd be fine and dandy to win
+you for keeps, but I know where you bought your ticket for, long ago.
+You'll end by getting your millionaire. In six months he'll go dippy
+over some other woman, and then you'll get your alimony, which is not
+only a handy thing to have around the house, but proves that you're
+perfectly respectable."
+
+"You've got some good ideas, anyhow," she complimented him, and then
+she sighed. "The only trouble is, every time one lines up that I
+think'll do, I find he's got a wife hid away some place."
+
+"And it isn't set down in her lines to fix up alimony for some other
+woman," commented the pseudo Mrs. Phillips.
+
+A couple of men, one nattily dressed and with curly hair, and the
+other short and fat and wearing a flaming waistcoat, passed on their
+way down to the betting-shed and carelessly tipped their hats.
+
+"Do you know those two cheaps?" she inquired, eying their retreating
+backs with disfavor.
+
+Again Wallingford chuckled.
+
+"Know them!" he replied. "I should say I do! Green-Goods Harry Phelps
+and Badger Billy Banting? Why, they and their friends, Short-Card
+Larry Teller and Yap Pickins, framed up a stud poker game on me the
+first week I hit town, with the lovely idea of working a phoney pinch
+on me; but I got a real cop to hand them the triple cross, and took
+five thousand away from them so easy it was like taking four-o'clock
+milk from a doorstep."
+
+"I'm glad of it," she said, with as much trace of vindictiveness as
+her beauty specialist would have permitted. "They're an awful
+low-class crowd. They came over to my table one night in Shirley's,
+after I'd met them only once, and butted in on a rich gentleman friend
+of mine from Washington. They run up an awful bill on him and never
+offered even to buy cigars, and then when he was gone for a minute to
+pick out our wagon, they tried to get fresh with me right in front of
+mother. I'm glad somebody stung 'em."
+
+A very thick-set man, with an inordinately broad jaw and an
+indefinable air of blunt aggressiveness, came past them and nodded to
+J. Rufus with a grudging motion toward his shapeless slouch hat.
+
+"Who's that?" she asked.
+
+"Jake Block," he replied. "A big owner with so much money he could bed
+his horses in it, and an ingrowing grouch that has put a crimp in his
+information works. He's never been known to give out a tip since he
+was able to lisp 'mamma.' He eats nothing but _table d'hote_ dinners
+so he won't have to tell the waiters what he likes."
+
+Jake Block, on some brief errand to the press box, returned just as J.
+Rufus was starting down to the betting-shed, and he stopped a moment.
+
+"How are you picking them to-day, Wallingford?" he asked
+perfunctorily, with his eye on Beauty Phillips.
+
+"Same way," confessed Wallingford. "I haven't cashed a ticket in
+the meeting. I have the kind of luck that would scale John D.
+Rockefeller's bank-roll down to the size of a dance-program lead
+pencil."
+
+"Well," said Jake philosophically, his eyes still on the Beauty,
+"sometimes they come bad for a long time, and then they come worse."
+
+At this bit of wisdom J. Rufus politely laughed, and the silvery voice
+of Beauty Phillips suddenly joined his own; whereupon J. Rufus, taking
+the hint, introduced Mr. Block to Miss Phillips and her mother. Mr.
+Block promptly sat down by them.
+
+"I've heard a lot about you," he began, "but I've not been around to
+see _The Pink Canary_ yet. I don't go to the theater much."
+
+"You must certainly see my second-act turn. I sure have got them
+going," the Beauty asserted modestly. "What do you like in this race,
+Mr. Block?"
+
+"I don't like anything," he replied almost gruffly. "I never bet
+outside of my own stable."
+
+"We're taking a small slice of Bologna," she informed him. "I suppose
+he's about the--the wurst of the race. Guess that's bad, eh? I made
+that one up all by myself, at that. I think I'll write a musical
+comedy next. But how do you like Bologna?" she hastily added, her own
+laugh freezing as she saw her feeble little joke passed by in
+perplexity.
+
+"You never can tell," he replied evasively. "You see, Miss Phillips, I
+never give out a tip. If you bet on it and it don't win you get sore
+against me. If I hand you a winner you'll tell two or three people
+that are likely to beat me to it and break the price before I can get
+my own money down."
+
+Beauty Phillips' wide eyes narrowed just a trifle.
+
+"I guess it's all the same," remarked J. Rufus resignedly. "If you
+have a hoodoo over you you'll lose anyhow. I've tried to pick 'em
+forty ways from the ace. I've played with the dope and against it and
+lost both ways. I've played hunches and coppered hunches, and lost
+both ways. I've played hot information straight and reverse, and lost
+both ways. I've nosed into the paddock and made a lifetime hit with
+stable boys, jockeys, trainers, clockers and even owners, but every
+time they handed me a sure one I got burned. Any horse I bet on turns
+into a crawfish."
+
+The saddling bell rang.
+
+"You'd better hurry if you want to get a bet on Sausage," admonished
+the beautiful one, and J. Rufus, excusing himself, made his way down
+to the betting-shed, where he was affectionately known as The Big
+Pink, not only on account of his complexion but on account of the huge
+carnation Beauty Phillips pinned on him each day.
+
+At the first book he handed up three one-hundred-dollar bills.
+
+"A century each way on Bologna," he directed.
+
+"Welcome to our city!" greeted the red-haired man on the stool, and
+then to the ticket writer: "Twelve hundred to a hundred, five hundred
+to a hundred, and two hundred to a hundred on Bologna for The Big
+Pink. Johnnie, you will now rub prices on Bologna and make him
+fifteen, eight and three; then run around and tell the other boys that
+The Big Pink's on Bologna, and it's a pipe for the books at any odds."
+
+Wallingford chuckled good-naturedly. In other days he would have
+called that bit of pleasantry by taking another hundred each way
+across, at the new odds, but now his funds were too low.
+
+"Some of these days, Sunset," he threatened the man on the stool,
+"I'll win a bet on you and you'll drop dead."
+
+"I'll die rich if your wad only holds out till then," returned Sunset,
+laughing.
+
+With but very little hope J. Rufus returned to the grand-stand, where
+royalty sat like a warm and drowsy garment upon Beauty Phillips; for
+Beauty was on the stage a queen, and outside of working-hours a
+princess. Jake Block was still there, and making himself agreeable to
+a degree that surprised even himself, and he was there yet when
+Bologna, true to form, came home contentedly following the field. He
+joined them again at the close of the sixth race, when Carnation, a
+horse which the Beauty had picked because of his name, was just nosed
+out of the money, and he walked with them down to the carriage gate.
+As Block seemed reluctant to leave, he was invited to ride into the
+city in the automobile J. Rufus had hired by the month, and accepted
+that invitation with alacrity. He also accepted their invitation to
+dinner, and during that meal he observed:
+
+"I think, Miss Phillips, I'll go around and see _The Pink Canary_
+to-night, and after the show I'd like to have you and your mother and
+Wallingford take supper with me, if you have no other engagement."
+
+"Sure," said Beauty Phillips, too eagerly for Wallingford's entire
+comfort; and so it was settled.
+
+Wallingford, although he had seen the show until it made him deathly
+weary, went along and sat with Block in a stage box. During one of the
+dull spots the horseman turned to his companion very suddenly.
+
+"This Beauty Phillips could carry an awful handicap and still take the
+Derby purse," he announced. "She beats any filly of her hands and age
+I ever saw on a card."
+
+"She certainly does," assented J. Rufus, suave without, but irritated
+within.
+
+"I see you training around with her all through the meet. Steady
+company, I guess."
+
+"Oh, we're very good friends; that's all," replied Wallingford with
+such nonchalance as he could muster.
+
+"Nothing in earnest, then?"
+
+"Not a thing."
+
+"Then I believe I will enter the handicap myself, that is if you don't
+think you can haul down the purse."
+
+"Go in and win," laughed J. Rufus, concealing his trace of
+self-humiliation. He had no especial interest in Beauty Phillips, but
+he did not exactly like to have her taken away from him. It was too
+much in evidence that he was a loser. However, he was distinctly "down
+and out" just now, for Beauty Phillips quite palpably exerted her
+fascinations in the direction of that box, and Jake Block was most
+obviously "hooked;" so much so that at supper he revealed his interest
+most unmistakably, and parted from them reluctantly at the curb,
+feeling silly but quite determined.
+
+Wallingford made no allusion to Miss Phillips' capture of the
+horseman, even after they had reached the flat, where he had gained
+the rare privilege of calling, and where the Beauty's "mother" always
+remained in the parlor with them, awake or asleep.
+
+Rather sheepishly, J. Rufus produced from his pocket a newspaper
+clipping of the following seductive advertisement, which he passed
+over to the Beauty:
+
+                                             BOSTON.
+
+     Yesterday we slipped across, for the benefit of our happy
+     New York and Brooklyn subscribers, that juicy watermelon,
+     _Breezy_, a ten to one shot and the play on this section of
+     hot dog was so strong it put a crimp in the bookies as deep
+     as the water jump. To-morrow we have another lallapalooza
+     at long odds that will waft under the wire and have the
+     blanket on about the time the field is kicking dust at the
+     barrier. This peacherino has been under cover throughout
+     the meeting, but to-morrow it will be ripe and you want to
+     get in on the killing.
+
+     Will wire you the name of this pippin for five dollars;
+     full service twenty dollars a week.
+
+                         NATIONAL CLOCKERS' ASSOCIATION.
+
+"I fell for this," he explained, after she had read it with a
+sarcastic smile; "poked a fi'muth in a letter cold, and let 'em have
+it."
+
+The Beautiful One regarded him with pity.
+
+"Honest, Pinky," she commented, "your soft spot's growing. If you
+don't watch out the specialists'll get you. Do you suppose that if
+these cheap touts had such hot info. as that, they'd peddle it out, in
+place of going down to the track and coming back with all the money in
+the world in their jeans?"
+
+"Sure not," said he patiently. "They don't know any more about it than
+the men who write the form sheets; but we've tried everything from
+stable-dope to dreaming numbers and can't get one of them to run for
+us. So I'm taking a chance that the National Strong Arm Association
+might shut their eyes in the dark and happen to pass me the right name
+without meaning it."
+
+"There's some sense to that," admitted the Beauty reflectively.
+"You'll get the first wire to-morrow morning, won't you? Just my luck.
+It's matinee day and I'd like to see you try it."
+
+"That's all right," said J. Rufus. "I'll have the money to show you as
+a surprise at dinner."
+
+The Beauty hesitated.
+
+"I--I'm engaged for dinner to-morrow," she stated, half reluctantly.
+
+He was silent a moment.
+
+"Block? That means supper, too."
+
+"Yes. You see, Jimmy, I've just got to give 'em all a try-out."
+
+"Of course," he admitted. "But he won't do. I'll bet you a box of
+gloves against a box of cigars."
+
+"I won't bet you," she replied, laughing. "I've got a hunch that I'd
+lose."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+ WHEREIN THE BROADWAY QUARTET EVENS UP AN
+ OLD SCORE
+
+
+At his hotel the next day, about noon, J. Rufus got the promised wire.
+It consisted of only one word: "Razzoo."
+
+Alone, J. Rufus went out to the track, and on the race in which Razzoo
+was entered at average odds of ten to one, he got down six hundred
+dollars, reluctantly holding back, for his hotel bill, three hundred
+dollars--all he had in the world. Then he shut his eyes, and with
+large self-contempt waited for Razzoo to finish by lamplight. To his
+immense surprise Razzoo won by two lengths, and with a contented
+chuckle he went around to the various books and collected his
+winnings, handing to each bookmaker derogatory remarks calculated to
+destroy the previous _entente cordiale_.
+
+On his way out, puffed with huge joy and sitting alone in the big
+automobile, he was hailed by a familiar voice.
+
+"Well, well, well! Our old friend, J. Rufus!" exclaimed Harry Phelps,
+he of the natty clothes and the curly hair.
+
+With Mr. Phelps were Larry Teller and Billy Banting and Yap Pickins.
+
+"Jump in," invited J. Rufus with a commendable spirit, forgiving them
+cheerfully for having lost money to him, and, despite the growl of
+protest from lean Short-Card Larry, they invaded the tonneau.
+
+"You must be hitting them up some, Wallingford," observed Mr. Phelps
+with a trace of envy. "I know they're not furnishing automobiles to
+losers these days."
+
+"Oh, I'm doing fairly well," replied Wallingford loftily. "I cleaned
+'em up for six thousand to-day."
+
+The envy on the part of the four was almost audible.
+
+"What did you play?" asked Badger Billy, with the eager post-mortem
+interest of a loser.
+
+"Only one horse in just one race," explained Wallingford. "Razzoo."
+
+"Razzoo!" snorted Short-Card Larry. "Was you in on that assassination?
+Why, that goat hasn't won a race since the day before Adam ate the
+apple, and the jockey he had on to-day couldn't put up a good ride on
+a street car. How did you happen to land on it?"
+
+Blandly Wallingford produced the telegram he had received that
+morning.
+
+"This wire," he condescendingly explained, "is from the National
+Clockers' Association of Boston, Massachusetts, United States of
+America, who are charitable enough to pass out long-shot winners, at
+the mere bag-o'-shells service-price of five dollars per day or twenty
+per week."
+
+They looked from the magic word "Razzoo" to the smiling face of J.
+Rufus more in sorrow than in anger.
+
+"And they happened to hand you a winner!" said the cadaverous Mr.
+Teller, folding the telegram dexterously with the long, lean fingers
+of one hand, and passing it back as if he hated to see it.
+
+"Winner is right," agreed J. Rufus. "I couldn't pick 'em any other
+way, and I took a chance on this game because it's just as good a
+system as going to a clairvoyant or running the cards."
+
+There was a short laugh from the raw-boned Mr. Pickins.
+
+"I don't suppose they'll ever do it again," he observed, "but I feel
+almost like taking a chance on it myself."
+
+"Go to it," advised J. Rufus heartily. "Go to it, and come home with
+something substantial in your pocket, like this," and most brazenly,
+even in the face of what he knew of them, young Wallingford flaunted
+before their very eyes an assorted package of orange-colored
+bank-bills, well calculated to excite discord in this company. "Lovely
+little package of documents," he said banteringly; "and I suppose you
+burglars are already figuring how you can chisel it away from me."
+
+They smiled wanly, and the smile of Larry Teller showed his teeth.
+
+"No man ever pets a hornet but once," said Billy, the only one sturdy
+enough to voice his discomfiture.
+
+Wallingford beamed over this tribute to his prowess.
+
+"Well, you get a split of it, anyhow," he offered. "I'll take you all
+to dinner, then afterward we'll have a little game of stud poker if
+you like--with police interference barred."
+
+They were about to decline this kind invitation when Short-Card Larry
+turned suddenly to him, with a gleam of the teeth which was almost a
+snarl.
+
+"We'll take you," he said. "Just a little friendly game for small
+stakes."
+
+J. Rufus elevated his eyebrows a trifle, but smiled. Inwardly he felt
+perfectly competent to protect himself.
+
+"Fine business," he assented. "Suppose we have dinner in my rooms. I'm
+beginning to get them educated at my hotel."
+
+At the hotel he stopped for a moment at the curb to give his chauffeur
+some instructions, while the other four awaited him on the steps.
+
+"How'd you come to fall for this stud game, Larry?" inquired Phelps.
+"I can't see poker merely for health, and this Willy Wisdom won't call
+any raise of over two dollars when he's playing with us."
+
+"I know he won't," snapped Larry, setting his jaws savagely, "but
+we're going to get his money just the same. Billy, you break away and
+run down to Joe's drug-store for the K.O."
+
+They all grinned, with the light of admiration dawning in their eyes
+for Larry Teller. "K.O." was cipher for "knock-out drops," a pleasant
+little decoction guaranteed to put a victim into fathomless slumber,
+but not to kill him if his heart was right.
+
+"How long will it be until dinner's ready, Wallingford?" asked Billy,
+looking at his watch as J. Rufus came up.
+
+"Oh, about an hour, I suppose."
+
+"Good," said Billy. "I'll just have time. I have to go get some money
+that a fellow promised me, and if I don't see him to-night I may not
+see him at all. Besides, I'll probably need it if you play your usual
+game."
+
+"Nothing doing," replied Wallingford. "I only want to yammer you
+fellows out of a hundred apiece, and the game will be as quiet as a
+peddler's pup."
+
+J. Rufus conducted the others into the sitting-room of his suite and
+sent for a waiter. There was never any point lacking in Wallingford's
+hospitality, and by the time Billy came back he was ready to serve
+them a dinner that was worth discussing. The dinner despatched, he had
+the table cleared and brought out cards and chips. It was a quiet,
+comfortable game for nearly an hour, with very mild betting and plenty
+to drink. It was during the fifth bottle of wine, dating from the
+beginning of the dinner, that Short-Card Larry, by a dexterous
+accident, pitched Wallingford's stack of chips on the floor with a
+toss of the deck. Amid the profuse apologies of Larry, Mr. Phelps, who
+was at Wallingford's left, stooped down to help that gentleman pick up
+his chips, and in that moment Badger Billy quietly emptied the
+colorless contents of a tiny vial in Wallingford's glass. J. Rufus
+never was able to remember what happened after that.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Silk pajama clad, but still wearing portions of his day attire, he
+awoke next day with a headache, and a tongue that felt like a
+shredded-wheat biscuit. He held his head very level to keep the leaden
+weight in the top of it from sliding around and bumping his skull, and
+opened the swollen slits that did him painful duty for eyelids wide
+enough to let him find the telephone, through which instrument he
+ordered a silver-fizz. Of the butler who brought it he asked what time
+it was.
+
+"One o'clock, sir," replied the butler with the utmost gravity.
+
+One o'clock! J. Rufus pondered the matter slowly.
+
+"Morning or afternoon," he huskily asked.
+
+"Afternoon, sir," and this time the butler permitted himself the
+slightest trace of a smile as he noted the electric lights, still
+blazing in sickly defiance of the bright sunshine which crept in
+around the edges of the double blinds.
+
+"Huh!" grunted J. Rufus, and pondered more.
+
+Half dozing, he stood, glass in hand, for full five minutes, while the
+butler, with a lively appreciation of tips past and to come, stood
+patiently holding his little silver tray, with check and pencil
+waiting for the signature. At the expiration of that time, however,
+the butler coughed once, gently; once, normally; the third time very
+loudly. These means failing, he dropped the tray clattering to the
+floor, and with a cheerful "Beg your pardon, sir," picked it up. Not
+knowing that he had been asleep again, Wallingford took a sip of the
+refreshing drink and walked across to a garment which lay upon the
+chair, feeling through the pockets one after the other. In one pocket
+there was a little silver, but in the others nothing. He gave a coin
+to the butler and signed the check in deep thoughtfulness, then sat
+down heavily and dozed another fifteen minutes. Awakening, he found
+the glass at his hand on the serving-bench, and drank about a fourth
+of the contents very slowly.
+
+"Spiked!" he groaned aloud.
+
+He had good reason to believe that his wine had been "doctored," for
+never before had anything he drank affected him like this. Another
+glance at the garment of barren pockets reminded him to look about for
+the coat and vest he had worn the night before. They were not visible
+in his bedroom, and, still carrying the glass of life-saving mixture
+with him, he made his way into his sitting-room and surveyed the
+wreck. On the table was a confusion of cards and chips, and around its
+edge stood five champagne glasses, two of them empty, two half full,
+one full. Against the wall stood a row of four empty quart bottles. In
+an ice pail, filled now with but tepid water, there reposed a fifth
+bottle, neck downward. Five chairs were grouped unevenly about the
+table, one of them overturned and the others left at random where they
+had been pushed back. The lights here, also, were still burning.
+Heaped on a chair in the corner were the coat and vest he sought, and
+he went through their pockets methodically, reaching first for his
+wallet. It was perfectly clean inside. In one of the vest-pockets he
+found a soiled, very much crumpled two-dollar bill, and the first
+stiff smile of his waking stretched his lips.
+
+"I wonder how they overlooked this?" he questioned.
+
+Again his eyes turned musingly to those five empty bottles, and again
+the conviction was borne in upon him that the wine had been drugged.
+Under no circumstances could his share, even an unequal share, of five
+bottles of champagne among five persons have worked this havoc in him.
+
+"Spiked," he concluded again in a tone of resignation. "At last they
+got to me."
+
+The silver-fizz was flat now, but every sip of it was nevertheless
+full of reviving grace, and he sat in the big leather rocker to think
+things over. As he did so his eye caught something that made him start
+from his chair so suddenly that he had to put both hands to his head.
+Under the table was a bit of light orange paper. A fifty-dollar bill!
+In that moment--that is, after he had painfully stooped down to get it
+and had smoothed it out to assure himself that it was real--this
+beautifully printed government certificate looked to him about the
+size of a piano cover. An instant before, disaster had stared him in
+the face. This was but Thursday morning, and, having paid his hotel
+bill on Monday, he had the balance of the week to go on; but for that
+week he would have been chained to this hotel. Now he was foot-loose,
+now he was free, and his first thought was of his only possible
+resource, Blackie Daw, in Boston!
+
+It took two hours of severe labor on the part of a valet, two
+bell-boys and a barber to turn the Wallingford wreck into his usual
+well-groomed self, but the hour of sailing saw him somnolently, but
+safely ensconced on a Boston packet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ THE BROADWAY QUARTET CONTINUES TO TAKE
+ WALLINGFORD'S MONEY
+
+
+Blackie Daw's most recent Boston address had been: "Yellow Streak
+Mining Company, Seven Hundred and Ten Marabon Building," and yet when
+J. Rufus paused before number seven hundred and ten of that building
+he found its glass door painted with the sign of the National
+Clockers' Association. Worried by the fact that Blackie had moved, yet
+struck by the peculiar coincidence of his place being occupied by the
+concern that had given him the tip on Razzoo, he walked into the
+office to inquire the whereabouts of his friend. He found three girls
+at a long table, slitting open huge piles of envelopes and removing
+from them money, postal orders and checks--mostly money, for the sort
+of people who patronized the National Clockers' Association were
+quite willing to "take a chance" on a five- or a twenty-dollar bill
+in the mails. Behind a newspaper, in a big leather chair near a
+flat-top mahogany desk, with his feet conveniently elevated on the
+waste-basket, sat a gentleman who, when he moved the paper aside to
+see whom his visitor might be, proved to be Blackie Daw himself.
+
+"Hello, none other than the friend of me childhood!" exclaimed
+Blackie, springing to his feet and extending his hand. "What brings
+you here?"
+
+"Broke," replied Wallingford briefly. "They cleaned me. Got any
+money?"
+
+Mr. Daw opened the top drawer of his desk, and it proved to be nearly
+full of bills, thrown loosely in, with no attempt at order or sorting.
+"Money's the cheapest thing in Boston," he announced, waving his hand
+carelessly over the contents of the drawer. "Help yourself, old man.
+The New York mail will bring in plenty more. They've had two winners
+there this week, and when it does fall for anything, N'Yawk's the
+biggest yap town on earth."
+
+Wallingford, having drawn up a chair with alacrity, was already
+sorting bills, smoothing them out and counting them off in hundreds.
+
+"And all on pure charity--picking out winning horses for your
+customers!" laughed Wallingford. "This is a real gold mine you've hit
+at last."
+
+"Pretty good," agreed Blackie. "I'd have enough to start a mint of my
+own if I didn't lose so much playing the races."
+
+"You don't play your own tips, I hope," expostulated Wallingford,
+pausing to inspect a tattered bill.
+
+"I should say not," returned Daw with emphasis. "If I did that I'd
+have to play every horse in every race. You see, every day I wire the
+name of one horse to all my subscribers in Philadelphia, another to
+Baltimore, another to Washington, and so on down the list. One of
+those horses has to win. Suppose I pick out the horse Roller Skate
+for Philadelphia. Well, if Roller skates home that day I advertise in
+the Philadelphia papers the next morning, and, besides that, every
+fall-easy that got the tip advertises me to some of his friends, and
+they all spike themselves to send in money for the dope. Oh, it's a
+great game, all right."
+
+"It's got yegging frazzled to a pulp," agreed Wallingford. "But I
+oughtn't to yell police. I got the lucky word my first time out. I
+played Razzoo and cleaned up six thousand dollars on the strength of
+your wire."
+
+"Go on!" returned Blackie delightedly. "You don't mean to say you're
+sorting some of your own money there?"
+
+"I sure am," laughed Wallingford, picking up a five-dollar bill. "I
+think this must be it. What's the New York horse to-day?"
+
+Blackie consulted a list that lay on his desk.
+
+"Whipsaw," he said.
+
+"Whipsaw! By George, Blackie, if there's any one thing I'd like to do,
+it'd be to whipsaw some friends of yours on Broadway." Whereupon he
+told Blackie, with much picturesque embellishment, just how Messrs.
+Phelps, Teller, Banting and Pickins had managed to annex the Razzoo
+money.
+
+Blackie enjoyed that recital very much.
+
+"The Broadway Syndicate is still on the job," he commented. "Well, J.
+Rufus, let this teach you how to take a joke next time."
+
+"I'm not saying a word," replied Wallingford. "Any time I let a
+kindergarten crowd like that work a trick on me that was invented
+right after Noah discovered spoiled grape juice, I owe myself a month
+in jail. But watch me. I'll make moccasins out of their hides, all
+right."
+
+"Go right ahead, old man, and see if I care," consented Blackie.
+"Slam the harpoon into them and twist it."
+
+"I will," asserted Wallingford confidently. "I don't like them because
+they're grouches; I don't like them because they're cheap; I don't
+like their names, nor their faces, nor the town they live in. Making
+money in New York's too much like sixteen hungry bulldogs to one bone.
+The best dog gets it, but he finishes too weak for an appetite. What
+kind of a horse is this Whipsaw you're sending out to-day?"
+
+"I don't know. Where's the dope on Whipsaw, Tillie?"
+
+A girl with a freckled face and a keen eye and a saucy air went over
+to the filing-case and searched out a piece of cardboard a foot
+square. Blackie glanced over it with an experienced eye.
+
+"Maiden," said he; "been in four races, and the best he ever did was
+fourth in a bunch of goats that only ambled all the way around the
+track because that was the only way they could get back to the
+stable."
+
+The mail carrier just then came in with a huge bundle of letters.
+
+"New York mail," observed Blackie. "After that Razzoo thing it ought
+to be rich pickings."
+
+"Pickings!" exclaimed J. Rufus, struck by a sudden idea. "See if
+Pickins or Teller or any of that crowd have contributed. Pickins said
+they were going to try it out, just to see if lightning could really
+strike twice in the same place."
+
+Blackie wrote a number of names on a slip of paper and handed it to
+Tillie.
+
+"Look for these names in the mail," he directed, "and if a
+subscription comes in from any one of them let me know it."
+
+Wallingford had idly picked up the card containing Whipsaw's record.
+
+It was a most accurate typewritten sheet, giving age, pedigree,
+description and detailed action in every race; but the point that
+caught Wallingford's eye was the name of the owner.
+
+"One of Jake Block's horses, by George!" he said, and fell into silent
+musing from which he was interrupted by the girl, who was laughing.
+
+"Here's your party," she said to Blackie, handing him an envelope.
+"This twenty's in it, and I think it's bad money."
+
+Blackie passed the bill to Wallingford, who slipped it through
+experienced fingers.
+
+"You couldn't pass this one on an organ-grinder's monkey," he said,
+chuckling. "But that's all right; just put 'em on the wiring-list,
+anyhow. Make 'em lose their money. It's the only way you can get
+even."
+
+The girl looked to Blackie for instructions, and he nodded his head.
+
+"Who sent it?" asked Wallingford idly.
+
+"Peters is the name signed here," replied Blackie. "That means Harry
+Phelps. I gave Tillie all the aliases this bunch of crimples carry
+around with them, knowing they'd probably send it in that way."
+
+Wallingford nodded comprehendingly.
+
+"They'd rather do even the square thing crooked. Well, you know what
+to do."
+
+"I'll send them special picks," declared Blackie with a grin. "Nothing
+but a list of crabs that would come in third in a two-horse race. But
+come on outside; we're too far from cracked ice," and grabbing an
+uncounted handful of bills from the drawer of his desk, Blackie
+stuffed them in his pocket and led the way out.
+
+It was at luncheon that Blackie made his first protest.
+
+"What's the matter with you, J. Rufus?" he demanded. "I never saw you
+insult food and drink before."
+
+"I'm thinking," returned Wallingford solemnly. "I hate to do it, for
+it interferes with my appetite; but here's a case where I must. I have
+got to put one over on that Broadway bunch or lose my self-respect."
+
+That evening, on the way down to the boat, their feet cocked
+comfortably on the opposite seat of a cab, Wallingford formulated a
+more or less vague plan.
+
+"Tell you what you do, Blackie," he directed; "you send to Phelps and
+to me, until I give you the word, a daily tip on sure losers. In the
+meantime, bank all your money, and don't make a bet on any race."
+
+"What are you going to do?" asked Blackie curiously.
+
+"Land a sure winner for us and a loser for the Broadway Syndicate.
+Hold yourself ready when I wire you to take a quick train for my
+hotel, loaded down with all the money you can grab together."
+
+"Fine!" returned Blackie. "You wire me that it's all fixed, and when I
+start for New York there'll be a financial stringency in Boston."
+
+Returning to New York, Wallingford caught Beauty Phillips at breakfast
+about noon, and in a most charming morning gown, for the Beauty was
+consistent enough to be neat even when there was none but "mother" to
+see.
+
+"Hello, Mr. Mark, from Easyville," she hailed him. "I heard all about
+you."
+
+"You did!" he demanded, surprised. "Who told you?"
+
+"Phelps and Banting," she said. "They had the nerve to come up in the
+grand-stand yesterday and tell Mr. Block and me all about it; told me
+how much you won and how they got it away from you at poker."
+
+"Did they tell you they put knock-out drops in my wine?" demanded
+Wallingford.
+
+"They didn't do that!" she protested.
+
+"Exactly what they did. Whether we played poker afterward, I don't
+know. I'd just as soon as not believe they went through my pockets."
+
+"I wouldn't put it past them a bit," she agreed, and then her
+indignation began to grow. "Say, ain't it a shame! Now, if I hadn't
+gone out to dinner with Mr. Block, you'd have been with me. I'd have
+had that lovely diamond brooch you promised me out of your first
+winnings, and we'd have had all the rest of it to bet with for a few
+days. Honest, Pinky, I feel as if it were my fault!"
+
+"Don't you worry about that," Wallingford cordially reassured her. "It
+was my own fault; but I wasn't looking for anything worse than a knife
+in my back or a piece of lead pipe behind the ear. There's no use in
+crying over spilled milk. The thing to do now is to get even, and I
+want you to help me."
+
+"Don't you mix in, Beauty," admonished the hired mother, but the
+Beauty was thoughtful for a while. "Mother" was there to give good
+advice, but the Beauty only took it if she liked it.
+
+"I really can't afford it," she said, by and by; "but I've got some
+principles about me, and I don't like to see a good sport like you
+take a rough dose from a lot of cheaps like them; so you show me how
+and I'll mix in just this once."
+
+Wallingford hesitated in turn.
+
+"How do you like Block?" he inquired.
+
+Beauty Phillips sniffed her dainty nose in disdain.
+
+"He won't do," she announced with decision. "I've found out all about
+him. He's got enough money to star me in a show of my own for the next
+ten years, but he's not furnished with the brand of manners I like.
+I'll never marry a man I can't stand. I've got a _few_ principles
+about me! Why, yesterday he tried to treat me real lovely, but do you
+know, he wouldn't give me the name of a horse, even when he put a
+hundred down for me in the third race? There I sat, with a string of
+'em just prancing around the track, and not one to pull for. Then
+after the race is over he comes and tosses me five hundred dollars. 'I
+got you four to one on the winner,' says he. Why, it was just like
+_giving me money_! Jimmy, I'm going out to dinner with him to-night,
+then I'm going to turn him back into the paddock, and you can pal
+around with me again until I find a man with plenty of money that I
+could really love."
+
+"Don't spill the beans," advised Wallingford hastily. "Block thinks
+you're about the maple custard, don't he?"
+
+"He's crazy about me," confessed the Beauty complacently.
+
+"Fine work. Well, just you string him along till he gives you the
+name of a sure winner in advance; jolly it out of him."
+
+"Not on your three-sheet litho!" negatived the Beauty. "I never yet
+worked one mash against another. I guess you'd expect to play even on
+that tip, eh?"
+
+"Sure, we'll play it," admitted Wallingford; "but better than that,
+I'll shred this Harry Phelps crowd so clean they'll have to borrow car
+fare."
+
+She thought on this possibility with sparkling eyes. She was against
+the "Phelps crowd" on principle. Also--well, Wallingford had always
+been a perfect gentleman.
+
+"Are you sure you can do it?" she wanted to know.
+
+"It's all framed up," he asserted confidently; "all I want is the name
+of that winner."
+
+The Beauty considered the matter seriously, and in the end silently
+shook hands with him. The _pro tem_. Mrs. Phillips sniffed.
+
+This was on a Saturday, a matinee day, and Wallingford went out to the
+track alone, contenting himself with extremely small bets, merely to
+keep his interest alive. The day's racing was half over before he ran
+across the Broadway Syndicate. They were heartily glad to see him.
+They greeted him with even effervescent joy.
+
+"Where have you been, J. Rufus?" asked Phelps. "We were looking for
+you all over yesterday. We thought sure you'd be out at the track
+playing that Boston Gouge Company's tips."
+
+"Your dear chum was in the country, resting up," replied Wallingford,
+with matter-of-fact cheerfulness. "By George, I never had wine put me
+down and out so in my life"--whereat the cadaverous Short-Card Larry
+could not repress a wink for the benefit of Yap Pickins. "What was the
+good-thing they wired yesterday?"
+
+"Whipsaw!" scorned Phelps. "Say, do you see that horse out
+there?"--and he pointed to a selling-plater, up at the head of the
+stretch, which was being warmed up by a stable-boy. "Well, that's
+Whipsaw, just coming in from yesterday's last race."
+
+Wallingford chuckled.
+
+"They're bound, you know, to land on a dead one once in a while," he
+grunted; "but I'm strong for their game, just the same. You remember
+what that Razzoo thing that they tipped off did for me the other day."
+
+"Yes?" admitted Phelps with a rising inflection and a meaning grin.
+"Nice money you won on him. It spends well."
+
+"Enjoy yourselves," invited Wallingford cordially. "I've no kick
+coming. I'm through with stud poker till they quit playing it with a
+hole-card."
+
+"I don't blame you," agreed Short-Card Larry solemnly. "Anybody that
+would bet a four-flush against two aces in sight, the way you did when
+Billy won that three-thousand-dollar pot from you, ought never to play
+anything stronger than ping-pong for the cigarettes."
+
+Wallingford nodded, with the best brand of suavity he could muster
+under the irritating circumstances.
+
+"I suppose I did play like a man expecting his wife to telephone," he
+admitted. "Excuse me a minute; I want to get a bet down on this race."
+
+"Whom do you like?" asked Pickins.
+
+"Rosey S."
+
+The four began to laugh.
+
+"That's the hot Boston tip," gasped Phelps. "Say, Wallingford, don't
+give your money to the Mets. Let us make a book for you on that
+skate."
+
+"You're on," agreed J. Rufus, delighted that the proposition should
+come from them, for he had been edging in that direction himself.
+"I'll squander a hundred on the goat at the first odds we see."
+
+They went into the betting-shed. Rosey S. was quoted at six to one.
+Even as they looked the price was rubbed, and ten to one was chalked
+in its place. The laughter of the quartet was long and loud as they
+pulled money from their pockets.
+
+"The first odds goes, Big Pink," Banting reminded him.
+
+Wallingford produced his hundred dollars, and quietly noted that the
+eyes of the quartet glistened as they saw the size of the roll from
+which he extracted it. They had not been prepared to find that he
+still had plenty of money. Jake Block passed near them, and
+Wallingford hailed him.
+
+"Hold stakes for us, Jake, on a little private bet?" he asked.
+
+"Sure thing," acquiesced Jake. "What is it?"
+
+"These fellows are trying to win out dinner-money on me. They're
+giving me six hundred to one against Rosey S."
+
+Block glanced up at the board and noted the increased odds, but it was
+no part of his policy to interfere in anything.
+
+"All right," he said, taking the seven hundred dollars and stuffing
+the money in his pocket. "You don't want to lay a little more, do you,
+at that odds?"
+
+"No," declined Wallingford. "I'm unlucky when I press a bet."
+
+Rosey S. put up a very good race for place, but dropped back in the
+finish to a chorus of comforting observations from the quartet, who,
+to make matters more aggravating, had played the winner for place at a
+good price.
+
+Jake Block came to them right after the race and handed over the
+money. He was evidently in a great hurry. Wallingford started to talk
+to him, but Block moved off rapidly, and it dawned upon J. Rufus that
+the horseman wanted to "shake" him so as not to have to invite him to
+dinner with himself and Beauty Phillips.
+
+Sunday morning he went around to that discreet young lady's flat for
+breakfast, by appointment. "Mrs. Phillips" met him with unusual
+warmth.
+
+"I've been missing you," she stated with belated remembrance of
+certain generous gifts. "Say," she added with sudden indignation, "you
+may have my share of Block for two peanuts. What do you suppose he
+did? Offered me five dollars to boost him with Beauty. _Five
+dollars!_"
+
+"The cheap skate!" exclaimed Wallingford sympathetically.
+
+The Beauty came in and greeted him with a flush of pleasure.
+
+"Well," she said, "I got it, all right. The horse runs in the fourth
+race Friday, and its name is Whipsaw."
+
+"Whipsaw!" exclaimed Wallingford. "He's stringing you."
+
+"No, he isn't," she declared positively. "It was one o'clock last
+night before I got him thawed out enough to give up, and I had to let
+him hold my hand, at that," and she rubbed that hand vigorously as if
+it still had some stain upon it. "He told me all about the horse. He
+says it's the one good thing he's going to uncover for this meeting.
+He tried Whipsaw out on his own breeding-farm down in Kentucky,
+clocking him twice a week, and he says the nag can beat anything on
+this track. Block's been breaking him to run real races, entering
+against a lot of selling-platers, with instructions to an iron-armed
+jockey to hold in so as to get a long price. Friday he intends to send
+the horse in to win and expects to get big odds. I'm glad it's over
+with. We promised to go out to Claremont this afternoon with Block,
+but that settles him. To-morrow I'm going out with you."
+
+J. Rufus shook his head.
+
+"No, you mustn't," he insisted. "You must string this boy along till
+after the race Friday. He might change his mind or scratch the horse
+or something, but if he knows you have a heavy bet down, and he's
+still with you, he'll go through with the program."
+
+"I can't do it," she protested.
+
+He turned to her slowly, took both her hands, and gazed into her eyes.
+
+"Yes, you can, Beauty," he said. "We've been good pals up to now, and
+this is the last thing I'll ever ask of you."
+
+She looked at him a moment with heightening color, then she dropped
+her eyes.
+
+"Honest, Pinky," she confessed, "sometimes I do wish you had a lot of
+money."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+ IN WHICH WALLINGFORD AND BLACKIE DAW ENJOY
+ THEMSELVES
+
+
+On Monday, nearing noon, Wallingford dropped into a flashy cafe just
+off Broadway, where he knew he would be bound to find some one of his
+quartet. He found Short-Card Larry there alone, his long, thin fingers
+clasped around a glass of buttermilk.
+
+"Hello, Wallingford," he said, grinning. "Going out to the track
+to-day?"
+
+"I'm not going to miss a race till the meeting closes," asserted
+Wallingford. "I've a good one to-day that I'm going to send in a
+couple of hundred on."
+
+"What is it?" asked Larry.
+
+"Governor."
+
+"Governor!" snorted Larry. "Who's in the race with him?" He drew a
+paper to him and turned to the entries. "Why," he protested, "there
+isn't a plug in that race that can't come back to hunt him."
+
+"That's all right," said Wallingford. "I'm for the National Clockers'
+Association, and I'm going to play their picks straight through."
+
+"Here's a match," offered Larry scornfully. "Set fire to your money
+and save yourself the trouble of the trip."
+
+"Maybe you'd like to save it from the flames. What odds will you give
+me?"
+
+This being an entirely different proposition, Larry began to think
+much better of the horse.
+
+"Five to one," he finally decided, after studying over the entries
+again. "Don't know whether that's the track odds or not. But you can
+take it or leave it."
+
+"I'll take it," agreed Wallingford, and tossed his money on the bar.
+
+Mr. Teller drew a check-book from his pocket, and Wallingford,
+glancing at the top of the stub as Larry filled out the blank for a
+thousand, noted with satisfaction the splendid balance that was there.
+Evidently the gang was well in funds. They had, no doubt, been quite
+busy of late.
+
+"Of course you'll cash that," requested Wallingford, not so much on
+account of this particular bet as to establish a precedent.
+
+"Sure," agreed Teller; "although I'll only have to deposit it again."
+
+"I'm betting the two hundred you don't, remember," said Wallingford,
+and they signed a memorandum of the bet, which they deposited with the
+rock-jawed proprietor, after that never-smiling gentleman had
+nonchalantly opened his safe and cashed Larry's check.
+
+On Tuesday morning, Governor having lost and Short-Card Larry having
+imprudently exulted to his friends over the two-hundred-dollar
+winning, Mr. Teller came around to Wallingford's hotel with his pocket
+full of money to find there Badger Billy and Mr. Phelps, both of whom
+had come on similar business.
+
+"I suppose you got his coin on to-day's sure thing," observed Larry
+with a scowl, he being one to whom a bad temper came naturally.
+
+"Three hundred of it," said fat Badger Billy triumphantly. "To-day he
+has a piece of Brie _fromage_ by the name of Handicass."
+
+"Which ought to be called Handcase," supplemented Phelps, and the two
+threw back their heads and roared. "The cheese is expected to skipper
+home about the time the crowd realizes they're off." And they all
+enjoyed themselves in contemplation of what was going to happen to
+Handicass.
+
+"Got any more?" demanded Larry.
+
+"Not this morning," returned Wallingford, accepting his role of
+derided "come-on" with smiling fortitude. "I want to save some for
+to-morrow's bet."
+
+"You see," explained Billy Banting, purring up his red cheeks with
+laughter, "Wallingford's playing a system of progression. He hikes the
+bet every day, expecting to play even in the finish."
+
+"I see," said Larry, grinning; "but don't you fellows hook all this
+easy money. Count me in for a piece of to-morrow's bet."
+
+He had a chance. Handicass ran to consistent form with all the other
+"picks"--except the one accident, Razzoo--of the National Clockers'
+Association, and on Wednesday, Wallingford bet four hundred on the
+"information" which that concern wired to him and to Mr. Phelps. On
+that day, too, having received at breakfast-time a report from Beauty
+Phillips that the Whipsaw horse was still "meant," he wrote careful
+instructions to Blackie Daw, then held his thumbs and crossed his
+fingers and touched wood and looked at the moon over the proper
+shoulder, and did various other things to keep Fate from sending home
+one of those tips as an accidental winner on either Wednesday or
+Thursday.
+
+Nothing of that disastrous sort happened, however, and his pet
+enemies, the quartet, having won from J. Rufus on Saturday, Monday,
+Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, had by this time pooled their
+interests and constituted themselves Wallingford's regular bookmaking
+syndicate. Their only fear on Friday morning, after Phelps had
+received his wire from Boston, was that Wallingford would not care to
+bet that day, since the horse which had been given out was that
+notorious tail-ender, Whipsaw! They invaded J. Rufus' apartments as
+soon as they got the wire, and were relieved to find that Wallingford
+was still firm in his allegiance to the National Clockers'
+Association.
+
+They were a little surprised, however, to find Blackie Daw at
+breakfast with Wallingford, but they greeted that old comrade with
+great cordiality, coupled with an inward fear that he might interfere
+with their designs upon Wallingford.
+
+"You haven't been making a book against J. Rufus on the day's races,
+have you?" inquired Phelps.
+
+"Not yet," said Blackie, laughing, "but I'm willing. What's he on?"
+
+"Whipsaw," interposed Wallingford.
+
+Blackie laughed softly.
+
+"I don't know the horse," he said, "but I just seem to remember that
+he's the joke of the track."
+
+"No," explained Larry; "he's too painful to be a joke."
+
+"What odds do you expect to get, Wallingford?" asked Blackie, reaching
+for his wallet.
+
+"Hold on a minute," said Phelps hastily. "You don't want to butt in on
+this, Daw. We've been making book for J. Rufus all week, and it's our
+money. You hold stakes."
+
+"Don't you worry," snapped Wallingford, suddenly displaying temper;
+"there will be enough to go around. I'll cover every cent you four
+have or can get," and he pushed his chair back from the table. "This
+is my last day in the racing game, and I'm going to plunge on Whipsaw.
+I've turned into cash every resource I had in the world. I've even
+soaked my diamonds and watch to get more. Now come on and cover my
+coin." From his pocket he produced a thick bundle of bills of large
+denomination. "What odds do I get? The last time Whipsaw was in a
+race he opened at twelve to one and I ought to get fifteen at least
+to-day. Here's a thousand at that odds."
+
+"Not on your life!" said Short-Card Larry. "I wouldn't put up fifteen
+thousand to win one on any game."
+
+"What'll you give me, then? Come on for this easy money. Give me ten?"
+
+No, they would not give him ten.
+
+"Give me eight?"
+
+They hesitated. He immediately slid the money in his pocket.
+
+"You fellows are kidding. You don't want to make book for me. I'll
+take this coin out to the track and get it down at the long odds."
+
+His display of contemptuous anger decided them.
+
+"I'll take my share," asserted Short-Card Larry, he of the quick
+temper, and among them the four made up the money to cover
+Wallingford's bet.
+
+"Here's the stakes, Blackie," said Wallingford, passing over the money
+toward him. "You're all willing he should hold the money?"
+
+They were. They knew Blackie.
+
+"Moreover," observed Yap Pickins meaningly, "we'll keep close to him."
+
+"Here's another thousand that you can cover at five to one," offered
+Wallingford, counting out the money.
+
+Now they were as eager as he.
+
+"We'll take you," said Teller, "but I'll have to go out and get more
+mezuma."
+
+"All right. Bring all you can scrape together and I'll cover the
+balance of it at two to one."
+
+For just one moment they were suspicious.
+
+"Look here," said Billy Banting, "do you know something about this
+horse?"
+
+"If I did I wouldn't tell. Don't you know that I can get from fifteen
+to twenty at the track? Why do you suppose I want to make such a
+sucker bet as this? It's because I'd rather have your money than
+anybody else's; because I want to _break_ you!"
+
+He was fairly trembling with simulated anger now.
+
+"If that's the case you'll be accommodated," said Teller with an oath.
+"Come on, boys; we'll bring up a chunk of money that'll stop all this
+four-flush conversation."
+
+Mr. Phelps, having already "produced to his limit," stayed with
+Wallingford while the others went out. First of all, they dropped in
+at a quiet pool-room where they were known, and made inquiries about
+Whipsaw. They were answered by a laugh, and an offer to "take them on
+for all they wanted at their own odds," and, reassured, they
+scattered, to raise all the money they could. They returned in the
+course of an hour and counted down a sum larger than Wallingford had
+thought the four of them could control. He was to find out later that
+they had not only converted their bank accounts and all their other
+holdings into currency, but had borrowed all their credit would stand
+wherever they were known. Wallingford, covering their first five
+thousand with one, calmly counted out an amount equal to one-half of
+all the rest they had put down, passed it over to Blackie to hold,
+then flaunted more money in their faces.
+
+"This is at evens if you can scrape up any more," he offered
+sneeringly. "Go soak your jewelry."
+
+Before making that suggestion he had noted the absence of Larry's ring
+and of Billy's studded watch-charm. Phelps was the only one who still
+wore anything convertible, a loud cravat-pin, an emerald, set with
+diamonds.
+
+"Give you two hundred against your pin," said he to Phelps, and the
+latter promptly took the bet.
+
+"Are you all in?" asked Wallingford.
+
+They promptly acknowledged that they were "all in."
+
+"All right, then; we'll have a drink and go out to the track. You'll
+want to see this race, _because I win_!"
+
+They were naturally contemptuous of this view, even hilariously
+contemptuous, and they offered to lend Wallingford money enough, after
+the race, "to sneak out of town and hide."
+
+While they were taking the parting drink Blackie Daw slipped into
+Wallingford's bedroom for just one moment "to get a handkerchief."
+There he found, mopping his brow, a short, thick-set chap known as
+Shorty Hampton, a perfectly reliable and discreet betting
+commissioner.
+
+"I was just goin' to duck," growled Shorty in a gruff whisper. "I've
+got two or three other parties to see. I've been suffocating in this
+damned little room for the last hour, waitin'."
+
+"All right. Here's the money," said Blackie, and handed him _half the
+stakes which had just been intrusted to his care_. "Spread this in as
+many pool-rooms as you can; get it all down on Whipsaw."
+
+"Three ways?" asked Shorty.
+
+"Straight, every cent of it," insisted Daw. "No place or show-money
+for us to-day."
+
+At the track they saw Beauty Phillips alone in the grand-stand, and
+joined her. Wallingford introduced Blackie, and they chatted with her
+a few moments, then Wallingford took him away. He did not care to have
+Jake Block see them with her until after the fourth race. As they
+moved off she gave Wallingford a quick, meaning little nod.
+
+True to Pickins' threat the quartet kept very close indeed to Daw,
+but, during the finish of the rather exciting third race, Blackie,
+manoeuvering so that Wallingford was just behind him, slipped from
+his pocket the remaining half of the stake-money.
+
+"Well, boys," said Wallingford blandly, the money safely tucked away
+in his own pocket. "I still have a little coin to wager on Whipsaw. Do
+you want it?"
+
+"No; we're satisfied," returned Larry dryly.
+
+"All right, then," said Wallingford. "I'm going down and get it on the
+books."
+
+Harry Phelps sighed.
+
+"It's too bad to see that easy money going away from us, Pink," he
+confessed.
+
+Jake Block spent but little time that afternoon in the grand-stand by
+the side of Beauty Phillips and her mother. From the beginning of the
+racing he was first in the stables and then in the paddock with an
+anxious eye. He was lined up at the fence opposite the barrier for the
+start of the fateful fourth, and he stood there, after the horses had
+jumped away, to watch his great little Whipsaw around the course. But
+Beauty Phillips was not without company. Wallingford sauntered up at
+the sound of the mounting bell and sat confidently by her.
+
+"Did you get it all down, Jimmy?" she asked.
+
+"Every cent," said he, wiping his brow nervously. "Did you?"
+
+"Mother and I are broke if Whipsaw don't win," she confessed with dry
+lips. "What do you suppose makes Mr. Block look up here with such a
+poison face every two or three minutes?"
+
+Wallingford chuckled hugely.
+
+"The odds," he explained. "I've cut them to slivers. I bet all mine
+and Blackie's money with the Phelps crowd, then turned around and bet
+all ours and theirs again. Say, it's murder if I lose. Not even a
+fancy murder, either."
+
+Blackie Daw, attended by three of his guard, came over to join them,
+Blackie evidencing a strong disposition to linger in the rear, for he
+was taking a desperate chance with desperate men. If Whipsaw lost he
+had his course mapped out--down the nearest steps of the grand-stand
+and out to the carriage-gate as fast as his legs would carry him.
+There, J. Rufus' automobile was to be waiting, all cranked up and
+trembling, ready to dart away the moment Blackie should jump in. Just
+as Blackie and the others joined Wallingford and Beauty Phillips,
+Larry Teller came breathlessly up from the betting-shed.
+
+"There's something doing on that Whipsaw horse," he declared
+excitedly. "He opened at twenty to one--and in fifteen minutes of
+play--either somebody that knows something--or a wagonload of
+fool-money--had backed him down to evens. Think of it! Evens!"
+
+There was a sudden roar from the crowd, more like a gigantic groan
+than any other sound. They were off! One horse was left at the post,
+but it was not Whipsaw. Two others trailed behind. The other five were
+away, well bunched. At the quarter, three horses drew into the lead,
+Whipsaw just behind them. At the half, one of the three was dropping
+back, and Whipsaw slowly overtaking it. Now his nose was at her
+flanks; now at the saddle; then the jockeys were abreast; then the
+white jacket and red sleeves of Whipsaw's rider could be seen to the
+fore of the opposing jockey, with the two leaders just ahead. At the
+three-quarters, three horses were neck and neck again, but this time
+Whipsaw was among them. Down the stretch they came pounding, and then,
+and not until then, did Whipsaw, a lithe, shining little brown streak,
+strike into the best stride of which he was capable. A thousand hoarse
+watchers, as they came to the seven-eighths, roared encouragement to
+the horses. Whipsaw's name was much among them, but only in tones of
+anger. Men and even women ran down to the rail and stood on tiptoe
+with red faces, shrieking for Fashion to come on, begging and praying
+Fashion to win, for Fashion carried most of the money; and the
+shrieking became an agony as the horses flashed under the wire,
+Whipsaw a good, clean half length in the lead!
+
+[Illustration: Beauty Phillips discovered she was on her feet]
+
+As the roaring stopped in one high, abrupt wail, Beauty Phillips, who
+never knew emotion or excitement, suddenly discovered, to her vast
+surprise, that she was on her feet! that she was clutching her throat
+for its hoarseness! that she was dripping with perspiration! that she
+was faint and weak and giddy! that her blood was pounding and her
+eyeballs hurt; and that she had been, from the stretch down, jumping
+violently up and down and shrieking the name of Whipsaw! Whipsaw!
+Whipsaw! Whipsaw!
+
+A frenzied hand grabbed Blackie Daw by the elbow.
+
+"Duck, for God's sake, Blackie!" implored the shaking voice of Billy
+Banting. "Go down to the old joint on Thirty-third Street and wait for
+us. We'll split up that stake and all make a get-away."
+
+"Not on your life!" returned Blacked calmly, and pulled Wallingford
+around toward him by the shoulder. "I shall have great pleasure in
+turning over to Mr. Wallingford the combined bets of the Broadway
+Syndicate against that lovely little record-breaker, Whipsaw."
+
+"It's a good horse," said Wallingford with forced calmness, and then
+he began to chuckle, his broad shoulders shaking and his breast
+heaving; "and it was well named. I fawncy the Broadway Syndicate book
+will now go out of business--and with no chance to welch."
+
+"All we wise people knew about it," Blackie condescendingly explained
+to the quartet. "You see, I am running the National Clockers'
+Association."
+
+Before the voiceless Broadway Syndicate was through gasping over this
+piece of news, Jake Block came stalking through the grand-stand.
+Though elated over his victory and flushed with his winnings, he
+nevertheless had time to cast a bitter scowl in the direction of
+Beauty Phillips.
+
+"The next time I hand any woman a tip you may cut my arm off!" he
+declared. "I'm through with you!"
+
+"Who's that?" asked Larry Teller, glaring after the man who had
+mentioned the pregnant word "tip."
+
+"Jake Block, the owner of Whipsaw," Wallingford was pleased to inform
+him.
+
+"It's a frame-up!" shouted Billy Banting.
+
+A strong left hand clutched desperately at Blackie Daw's coat and tore
+the top button off, and an equally strong right hand grabbed into
+Blackie Daw's inside coat-pocket. It was empty, Pickins found, just as
+a stronger hand than his own gripped him until he winced with pain.
+
+"What have you done with the stakes?" shrieked Pickins, trying to
+throw off that grip, but not turning.
+
+"What's it your business? But, if you want to know, all that
+stake-money was bet in the shed and in the books about town--on
+Whipsaw to win!"
+
+The broad-shouldered man who had edged up quite near to them during
+the race, and who had interfered with Pickins, now stepped in front of
+the members of the defunct Broadway Syndicate. They only took one good
+look at him, and then fell back quite clamily. In the broad-shouldered
+giant they had recognized Harvey Willis, the quite capable Broadway
+policeman and friend of Wallingford, off for the day in his street
+clothes.
+
+"Run along, little ones, and play tricks on the ignorant country folks
+from Harlem and Flatbush," advised Beauty Phillips as she took
+Wallingford's arm and turned away with him. "You've been whipsawed!"
+
+She was exceptionally gracious to J. Rufus that evening, but for the
+first time in many days he was extremely thoughtful. A vague unrest
+possessed him and it grew as the Beauty became more gracious. He
+guessed that he could marry her if he wished, but somehow the idea did
+not please him as it might have done a few weeks earlier. He liked the
+Beauty perhaps even better than before, but somehow she was not quite
+the type of woman for him, and he had not realized it until she
+brought him face to face with the problem.
+
+"By the way," he said as he bid her good night, "I think I'll take a
+little run about the country for a while. I'm a whole lot tired of
+this man's town."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+ J. RUFUS SEEKS FOR PROFITABLE INVESTMENT IN
+ THE COUNTRY
+
+
+A rattling old carryall, drawn by one knobby yellow horse and driven
+by a decrepit patriarch of sixty, stopped with a groan and a creak and
+a final rattle at the door of the weather-beaten Atlas Hotel, and a
+grocery "drummer," a beardless youth with pink cheeks, jumped hastily
+out and rushed into the clean but bare little office, followed as
+hastily by a grizzled veteran of the road who sold dry-goods and
+notions and wore gaudy young clothes. Wallingford emerged much more
+slowly, as became his ponderous size. He was dressed in a green summer
+suit of ineffable fabric, wore green low shoes, green silk hose, a
+green felt hat, and a green bow tie, below which, in the bosom of his
+green silk negligee shirt, glowed a huge diamond. Richness and bigness
+were the very essence of him, and the aged driver, recognizing true
+worth when he saw it, gave a jerk at his dust-crusted old cap as he
+addressed him.
+
+"'Tain't no use to hurry now," he quavered. "Them other two'll have
+the good rooms."
+
+J. Rufus, from natural impulse, followed in immediately. There was no
+one behind the little counter, but the young grocery drummer, having
+hastily inspected the sparse entries of the preceding days, had
+registered himself for room two.
+
+"There ain't a single transient in the house, Billy," he said, turning
+to the dry-goods and notion salesman, "so I'll just put you down for
+number three."
+
+A buxom young woman came out of the adjoining dining-room, wiping her
+red hands and arms upon a water-spattered gingham apron.
+
+"Three of us, Molly," said the older salesman. "Hustle up the dinner,"
+and out of pure friendliness he started to chuck her under the chin,
+whereat she wheeled and slapped him a resounding whack and ran away
+laughing. This vigorous retort, being entirely expected, was passed
+without comment, and the two commercial travelers took off their coats
+to "wash up" at the tin basins in the corner. The aged driver,
+intercepting them to collect, came in to Wallingford, who, noting the
+custom, had already subscribed his name with a flourish upon the
+register.
+
+"Two shillin'," quavered the ancient one at his elbow.
+
+Wallingford gave him twice the amount he asked for, and the old man
+was galvanized into instant fluttering activity. He darted out of the
+door with surprising agility, and returned with two pieces of
+Wallingford's bright and shining luggage, which he surveyed reverently
+as he placed them in front of the counter. Two more pieces, equally
+rich, he brought, and on the third trip the proprietor's son, a brawny
+boy of fifteen, clad in hickory shirt, blue overalls and plow shoes,
+and with his sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, helped him in with
+Wallingford's big sole-leather dresser trunk.
+
+"Gee!" said the boy to Wallingford, beaming upon this array of
+expensive baggage. "What do you sell?"
+
+"White elephants, son," replied Wallingford, so gravely that the boy
+took two minutes to decide that the rich stranger was "fresh."
+
+It was not until dinner was called that any one displayed the least
+interest in the register, and then the proprietor, a tall, cowboy-like
+man, with drooping mustaches and a weather-browned face, came in with
+his trousers tucked into his top boots.
+
+"Hello, Joe! Hello, Billy!" he said, nodding to the two traveling men.
+"How's business?"
+
+"Rotten!" returned the grocery drummer.
+
+"Fine!" asserted the dry-goods salesman. "Our house hasn't done so
+much business in five years." _Sotto voce_, he turned to the young
+drummer. "Never give it away that business is on the bum," he said out
+of his years of experience.
+
+The tall proprietor examined the impressively groomed Wallingford and
+his impressive luggage with some curiosity, and went behind the little
+counter to inspect the register.
+
+"I'd like two rooms and a bath," said Wallingford, as the other looked
+up thoughtfully.
+
+"Two! Two?" repeated Jim Ranger, looking about the room. "Some ladies
+with you? Mother or sister, maybe?"
+
+"No," answered Wallingford, smiling. "A bedroom and sitting-room and a
+bath for myself."
+
+"Sitting-room?" repeated the proprietor. "You know, you can sit in
+this office till the 'leven-ten's in every night, and then the
+parlor's--" He hesitated, and, seeing the unresponsive look upon his
+guest's face, he added hastily: "Oh, well, I reckon I can fix it. We
+can move a bed out of number five, and I'll have the bath-tub and the
+water sent up as soon as you need it. This is wash-day, you know, and
+they've got the rinse water in it. I reckon you won't want it before
+to-night, though."
+
+"No," said J. Rufus quietly, and sighed.
+
+Immediately after lunch, J. Rufus, inquiring again for the proprietor,
+was told by Molly that he was in the barn, indicating its direction
+with a vague wave of her thumb. Wallingford went out to the enormous
+red barn, its timbers as firm as those of the hotel were flimsy, its
+lines as rigidly perpendicular as those of the hotel were out of
+plumb, its doors and windows as square-angled as those of the hotel
+were askew. Across its wide front doors, opening upon the same wide,
+cracked old stone sidewalk as the hotel, was a big sign kept fresh and
+bright: "J. H. Ranger, Livery and Sales Stable." Here Wallingford
+found the proprietor and the brawny boy in the middle of the wide barn
+floor, in earnest consultation over the bruised hock of a fine, big,
+draft horse.
+
+"I'd like to get a good team and a driver for this afternoon,"
+observed Wallingford.
+
+"You've come to the right place," declared Jim Ranger heartily, and
+when he straightened up he no longer looked awkward and out of place,
+as he had in the hotel office, but seemed a graceful part of the
+surrounding picture. "Bob, get out that little sorrel team and hitch
+it up to the new buggy for the gentleman," and as Bob sprang away with
+alacrity he turned to Wallingford. "They're not much to look at, that
+sorrel team," he explained, "but they can go like a couple of rats,
+all day, at a good, steady clip, up hill and down."
+
+"Fine," said Wallingford, who was somewhat of a connoisseur in horses,
+and he surveyed the under-sized, lithe-limbed, rough-coated sorrels
+with approval as they were brought stamping out of their stalls,
+though, as he climbed into his place, he regretted that they were not
+more in keeping with the handsome buggy.
+
+"Which way?" asked Bob, as he gathered up the reins.
+
+"The country just outside of town, in all directions," directed
+Wallingford briefly.
+
+"All right," said Bob with a click to the little horses, and
+clattering out of the door they turned to the right, away from the
+broad, shady street of old maples, and were almost at once in the
+country. For a mile or two there were gently undulating farms of rich,
+black loam, and these Wallingford inspected in careful turn.
+
+"Seems to be good land about here," he observed.
+
+"Best in the world," said the youngster. "Was you thinkin' of buyin'
+a farm?"
+
+Wallingford smiled and shook his head.
+
+"I scarcely think so," he replied.
+
+"'Twouldn't do you any good if you was," retorted Bob. "There ain't a
+farm hereabouts for sale."
+
+To prove it, he pointed out the extent of each farm, gave the name of
+its owner and told how much he was worth, to all of which Wallingford
+listened most intently.
+
+They had been driving to the east, but, coming to a fork in the road
+leading to the north, Bob took that turning without instructions,
+still chattering his local Bradstreet. Along this road was again rich
+and smiling farm land, but Wallingford, seeming throughout the drive
+to be eagerly searching for something, evinced a new interest when
+they came to a grove of slender, straight-trunked trees.
+
+"Old man Mescott gets a hundred gallons of maple syrup out of that
+grove every spring," said Bob in answer to a query. "He gets two
+dollars a gallon, then he stays drunk till plumb the middle of summer.
+Was you thinkin' of buyin' a maple grove?"
+
+Wallingford looked back in thoughtful speculation, but ended by
+shaking his head, more to himself than to Bob.
+
+They passed through a woods.
+
+"Good timber land, that," suggested Wallingford.
+
+"Good timber land! I should say it was," said Bob. "There's nigh a
+hundred big walnut trees back in there a ways, to say nothing of
+all the fine oak an' hick'ry, but old man Cass won't touch an ax
+to nothing but underbrush. He says he's goin' to will 'em to his
+grandchildren, and by the time they grow up it'll be worth their
+weight in money. Was you thinkin' of buyin' some timber land?"
+
+Wallingford again hesitated over that question, but finally stated
+that he was not.
+
+"Here's the north road back into town," said Bob, as they came to a
+cross-road, and as they gained the top of the elevation they could
+look down and see, a mile or so away, the little town, its gray roofs
+and red chimneys peeping from out its sheltering of green leaves.
+Just beyond the intersection the side of the hill had been cut away,
+and clean, loose gravel lay there in a broad mass. Wallingford had Bob
+halt while he inspected this.
+
+"Good gravel bank," he commented.
+
+"I reckon it is," agreed Bob. "They come clear over from Highville and
+from Appletown and even from Jenkins Corners to get that gravel, and
+Tom Kerrick dresses his whole family off of that bank. He wouldn't
+sell it for any money. Was you thinkin' of buying a gravel bank,
+mister?"
+
+Instead of replying Wallingford indicated another broken hillside
+farther on, where shale rock had slipped loosely down, like a
+disintegrated slate roof, to a seeping hollow.
+
+"Is that stone good for anything?" he asked.
+
+"Nothing in the world," replied Bob. "It rots right up. If you was
+thinkin' of buyin' a stone quarry now, there's a fine one up the north
+road yonder."
+
+Wallingford laughed and shook his head.
+
+"I wasn't thinking of buying a stone quarry," said he.
+
+Bob Ranger looked shrewdly and yet half-impatiently at the big young
+man by his side.
+
+"You're thinkin' o' buyin' somethin'; I know that," he opined.
+
+Wallingford chuckled and dropped his big, plump hand on the other's
+shoulder.
+
+"Elephant hay only," he kindly explained; "just elephant hay for white
+elephants," whereat the inquisitive Bob, mumbling something to himself
+about "freshness," relapsed into hurt silence.
+
+In this silence they passed far to the northwest of the town, and a
+much-gullied highway led them down toward the broader west road. Here
+again, as they headed straight in to Blakeville with their backs to
+the descending sun, were gently undulating farm lands, but about half
+a mile out of town they came to a wide expanse of black swamp, where
+cat-tails and calamus held sole possession. Before this swamp
+Wallingford paused in long and thoughtful contemplation.
+
+"Who owns this?" he asked.
+
+"Jonas Bubble," answered Bob, recovering cheerfully from his late
+rebuff. "Gosh! He's the richest man in these parts. Owns three hundred
+acres of this fine farmin' land we just passed, owns the mill down
+yander by the railroad station, has a hide and seed and implement
+store up-town, and lives in the finest house anywhere around
+Blakeville; regular city house. That's it, on ahead. Was you thinkin'
+o' buyin' some swamp land?"
+
+To this Wallingford made no reply. He was gazing backward over that
+useless little valley, its black waters now turned velvet crimson as
+they caught the slant of the reddening sun.
+
+"Here's Jonas Bubble's house," said Bob presently.
+
+It was the first house outside of Blakeville--a big, square,
+pretentious-looking place, with a two-story porch in front and a
+quantity of scroll-sawed ornaments on eaves and gables and ridges, on
+windows and doors and cornices, and with bright brass lightning-rods
+projecting upward from every prominence. At the gate stood,
+bare-headed, a dark-haired and strikingly pretty girl, with a rarely
+olive-tinted complexion, through which, upon her oval cheeks, glowed a
+clear, roseate under-tint. She was fairly slender, but well rounded,
+too, and very graceful.
+
+"Hello, Fannie!" called Bob, with a jerk at his flat-brimmed straw
+hat.
+
+"Hello, Bob!" she replied with equal heartiness, her bright eyes,
+however, fixed in inquiring curiosity upon the stranger.
+
+"That's Jonas Bubble's girl," explained Bob, as they drove on. "She's
+a good looker, but she won't spoon."
+
+Wallingford, grinning over the fatal defect in Fannie Bubble, looked
+back at the girl.
+
+"She would make a Casino chorus look like a row of Hallowe'en
+confectionery junk," he admitted.
+
+"Fannie, come right in here and get supper!" shrilled a harsh voice,
+and in the doorway of the Bubble homestead they saw an overly-plump
+figure in a green silk dress.
+
+"Gosh!" said Bob, and hit one of the little sorrel horses a vindictive
+clip. "That's Fannie's stepmother. Jonas Bubble married his hired girl
+two years ago, and now they don't hire any. She makes Fannie do the
+work."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+ WALLINGFORD SPECULATES IN THE CHEAPEST REAL
+ ESTATE PROCURABLE
+
+
+That evening, after supper, Wallingford sat on one of the broad,
+cane-seated chairs in front of the Atlas Hotel, smoking a big, black
+cigar from his own private store, and watched the regular evening
+parade go by. They came, two by two, the girls of the village, up one
+side of Maple Street, passed the Atlas Hotel, crossed over at the
+corner of the livery stable, went down past the Big Store and as far
+as the Campbellite church, where they crossed again and began a new
+round; and each time they passed the Atlas Hotel they giggled, or they
+talked loudly, or pushed one another, or did something to enlarge
+themselves in the transient eye. The grocery drummer and the dry-goods
+salesman sat together, a little aloof from J. Rufus, and presently
+began saying flippant things to the girls as they passed. A wake of
+giggles, after each such occasion, frothed across the street at the
+livery-stable corner, and down toward the Campbellite church.
+
+Molly presently slipped out of the garden gate and went down Maple
+Street by herself. Within twenty minutes she, too, had joined the
+parade, and with her was Fannie Bubble. As these passed the Atlas
+Hotel both the drummers got up.
+
+"Hello, Molly," said the grocery drummer. "I've been waiting for you
+since Hector was a pup," and he caught her arm, while the dry-goods
+salesman advanced a little uncertainly.
+
+"You 'tend to your own business, Joe Cling," ordered Molly, jerking
+her arm away, but nevertheless giving an inquiring glance toward her
+companion. That rigid young lady, however, was looking straight ahead.
+She was standing just in front of Wallingford.
+
+"Come on," coaxed the grocery drummer; "I don't bite. Grab hold there
+on the other side, Billy."
+
+Miss Bubble, however, was still looking so uncompromisingly straight
+ahead that Billy hesitated, and the willing enough Molly, seeing that
+the conference had "struck a snag," took matters into her own vigorous
+hands again.
+
+"You're too fresh," she admonished the grocery drummer. "Let go my
+arm, I tell you. Come on, Fannie," and she flounced away with her
+companion, turning into the gate of the hotel garden. Miss Fannie cast
+back a curious glance, not at the grocery drummer nor the veteran
+dry-goods salesman, but at the quiet J. Rufus.
+
+The discomfited transients gave short laughs of chagrin and went back
+to their seats, but the grocery drummer was too young to be daunted
+for long, and by the time another section or two of the giggling
+parade had passed them he was ready for a second attempt. One couple,
+a tall, thin girl and a short, chubby one, who had now made the
+circuit three times, came sweeping past again, exchanging with each
+other hilarious persiflage which was calculated to attract and tempt.
+
+"Wait a minute," said the grocery drummer to his companion.
+
+He dashed straight across the street, and under the shadow of the big
+elm intercepted the long and short couple. There was a parley in which
+the girls two or three times started to walk away, a further parley in
+which they consented to stand still, a loud male guffaw mingled with a
+succession of shrill giggles, then suddenly the grocery salesman
+called:
+
+"Come on, Billy!"
+
+The dry-goods man half rose from his chair and hesitated.
+
+"Come on, Billy!" again invited the grocery drummer. "We're going down
+to wade in the creek."
+
+A particularly high-pitched set of giggles followed this tremendous
+joke, and Billy, his timid scruples finally overcome, went across the
+street, a ridiculous figure with his ancient body and his youthful
+clothes. Nevertheless, Wallingford felt just a trifle lonesome as he
+watched his traveling companions of the afternoon go sauntering down
+the street in company which, if silly, was at least human. While he
+regretted Broadway, Bob Ranger, dressed no whit different from his
+attire of the afternoon, except that his sleeves were rolled down,
+came out of the hotel and stood for an undecided moment in front of
+the door.
+
+"Hello, Bob!" hailed Wallingford cordially, glad to see any face he
+knew. "Do you smoke?"
+
+"Reckon I do," said Bob. "I was thinkin' just this minute of walkin'
+down to Bud Hegler's for some stogies."
+
+"Sit down and have a cigar," offered Wallingford, producing a
+companion to the one he was then enjoying.
+
+Bob took that cigar and smelled it; he measured its length, its
+weight, and felt its firmness.
+
+"It ain't got any band on it, but I reckon that's a straight
+ten-center," he opined.
+
+"I'll buy all you can get me of that brand for a quarter apiece,"
+offered Wallingford.
+
+"So?" said Bob, looking at it doubtfully. "I reckon I'd better save
+this for Sunday."
+
+"No, smoke it now. I'll give you another one for Sunday," promised
+Wallingford, and he lit a match, whereupon Bob, biting the end off the
+cigar with his strong, white teeth, moistened it all over with his
+tongue to keep the curl of the wrapper down.
+
+With vast gratification he sat down to enjoy that awe-inspiring cigar,
+and, by way of being entertaining, uttered comment upon the passing
+parade--frank, ingeniously told bits of personal history which would
+have been startling to one who had imbibed the conventional idea that
+all country folk are without guile. Wallingford was not so much
+shocked by these revelations, however, as he might have been, for he
+had himself been raised in a country town, though one not so small as
+Blakeville.
+
+It was while Bob was in the midst of this more or less profane history
+that Molly and Fannie Bubble came out of the gate.
+
+"Come here, Molly," invited Bob; "I want to introduce you to a
+friend of mine. He's going to stop here quite a long time. Mr.
+Wallingford--Molly; Miss Bubble--Mr. Wallingford. Come on; let's
+all take a walk," and confidently taking Molly's arm he started up
+the crossing, leaving Miss Bubble to Wallingford.
+
+"It's a beautiful evening, isn't it?" said Fannie, as Wallingford
+caught step with her.
+
+Wallingford had to hark back. Time had been when the line of
+conversation which went with Miss Bubble's opening remark had been as
+familiar to him as his own safety razor, but of late he had been
+entertaining such characters as Beauty Phillips, and conversation with
+the Beauty had consisted of lightning-witted search through the ends
+of the earth and the seas therein for extravagant hyperbole and
+metaphor. Harking back was so difficult that J. Rufus gave it up.
+
+"Lovely evening," he admitted. "I've just been thinking about this
+weather. I've about decided to build a factory to put it up in boxes
+for the Chicago Market. They'd pay any price for it there in the
+fall."
+
+Miss Fannie considered this remark in silence for a moment, and then
+she laughed, a quiet, silvery laugh that startled J. Rufus by its
+musical quality.
+
+"I don't see why you should laugh," protested Wallingford gravely. "If
+a man can get a monopoly on weather-canning it would be even better
+than the sleep-factory idea I've been considering."
+
+"What was that like?" asked Fannie, interested in spite of the fact
+that these jokes were not at all the good old standards, which could
+be laughed at without the painful necessity of thought.
+
+"Well," Wallingford explained, "I figured on building an immense
+dormitory and hiring about a thousand fat hoboes to sleep for me night
+and day. Then I intended to take that sleep and condense it and put it
+up in eight-hour capsules for visitors to New York. There ought to be
+a fortune in that."
+
+Again a little silence and again that little silvery laugh which
+Wallingford found himself watching for.
+
+"You're so funny," said Miss Fannie.
+
+"For a long time I was divided between that and my anti-bum serum as a
+permanent investment," he went on, glancing down at her as he
+extended himself along the line which had seemed to catch her fancy.
+She was looking up at him, her eyes shining, her lips half parted in
+an anticipatory smile, and unconsciously her hand had crept upon his
+arm, where it lay warm and vibrant. "You know," he explained, "they
+inoculate a guinea-pig or a sheep or something with disease germs, and
+from this animal, somehow or other, they extract a serum which cures
+that disease. Well, I propose to get a herd of billy-goats boiling
+spifflicated, and extract from them the jag serum, and with that
+inoculate all the rounders on Broadway at so much per inoc. Then they
+can stand up in front of an onyx bar and guzzle till it oozes out of
+their ears, without any worse effects than a lifting pain in the right
+elbow."
+
+This time the laugh came more slowly, for here was a lot of language
+which, though refreshing, was tangled in knots that must be unraveled.
+Nevertheless, the laugh came, and at the sound of it Wallingford
+involuntarily pressed slightly against his side the hand that lay upon
+his arm. They were passing Hen Moozer's General Merchandise Emporium
+and Post-Office at the time, and upon the rickety porch, its posts,
+benches, and even floors whittled like a huge Rosetta stone, sat a
+group of five young men. Just after the couple had cleared the end of
+the porch a series of derisive meows broke out. It was the old protest
+of town boy against city boy, of work clothes against "Sunday duds,"
+of native against alien; and again J. Rufus harked back. It only
+provoked a smile in him, but he felt a sudden tenseness in the hand
+that lay upon his arm, and he was relieved when Bob and Molly, a half
+block ahead of them, turned hastily down a delightfully dark and shady
+cross street, in the shelter of which Bob immediately slipped his arm
+around Molly's waist. J. Rufus, pondering that movement and regarding
+it as the entirely conventional and proper one, essayed to do
+likewise; but Miss Fannie, discussing the unpleasant habit of her
+young townsmen with some indignation but more sense of humor, gently
+but firmly unwound J. Rufus' arm, placed it at his side and slipped
+her hand within it again without the loss of a syllable.
+
+Wallingford was surprised at himself. In the old days he would have
+fought out this issue and would have conquered. Now, however,
+something had made this bold young man of the world suddenly tame. He
+himself helped Miss Fannie to put him back upon grounds of friendly
+aloofness, and with a gasp he realized that for the first time in his
+life he had met a girl who had forced his entire respect. It was
+preposterous!
+
+Unaccountably, however, they seemed to grow more friendly after that,
+and the talk drifted to J. Rufus himself, the places he had seen, the
+adventures he had encountered, the richness of luxury that he had
+sought and found, and the girl listened with breathless eagerness.
+They did not go back to Maple Street just now, for the Maple Street
+parade was only for the unattached. Instead, they followed the others
+down to the depot and back, and after another half-hour _detour_
+through the quiet, shady street, they found Bob and Molly waiting for
+them at the corner.
+
+"Good night, Fannie," said Molly. "I'm going in. To-morrow's ironing
+day. Good night, Mr. Wallingford."
+
+"Good night," returned Miss Fannie, as a matter of course, and again
+Wallingford harked back. He was to take Miss Fannie home. Quite
+naturally. Why not?
+
+It was a long walk, but by no means too long, and when they had
+arrived at the big, fret-sawed house of Jonas Bubble, J. Rufus was
+sorry. He lingered a moment at the gate, but only a moment, for a
+woman's shrill voice called:
+
+"Is that you, Fannie? You come right in here and go to bed! Who's that
+with you?"
+
+"You'd better go right away, please," pleaded Fannie in a flutter.
+"I'm not allowed to be with strangers."
+
+This would have been the cue for a less adroit and diplomatic caller
+to hurry silently back up the street, and, as a matter of fact, this
+entirely conventional course was all that Mrs. Bubble had looked for.
+She was accordingly shocked when the gate opened, and in place of
+Fannie coming alone, J. Rufus, in spite of the girl's protest, walked
+deliberately up to the porch.
+
+"Is Mr. Bubble at home?" he asked with great dignity.
+
+Mrs. Bubble gasped.
+
+"I reckon he is," she admitted.
+
+"I'd like to see him, if possible."
+
+There was another moment of silence, in which Mrs. Bubble strove to
+readjust herself.
+
+"I'll call him," she said, and went in.
+
+Mr. Jonas Bubble, revealed in the light of the open door, proved to
+be a pursy man of about fifty-five, full of importance from his
+square-toed shoes to his gray sideburns; he exuded importance from
+every vest button upon the bulge of his rotundity, and importance
+glistened from the very top of his bald head.
+
+"I am J. Rufus Wallingford," said that broad-chested young gentleman,
+whose impressiveness was at least equal to Mr. Bubble's importance,
+and he produced a neatly-engraved card to prove the genuineness of his
+name. "I was introduced to your daughter at the hotel, and I came down
+to consult with you upon a little matter of business."
+
+"I usually transact business at my office," said Mr. Bubble pompously;
+"nevertheless, you may come inside."
+
+He led the way into a queer combination of parlor, library,
+sitting-room and study, where he lit a big, hanging gasolene lamp,
+opened his old swinging top desk with a key which he carefully and
+pompously selected from a pompous bunch, placed a plush-covered chair
+for his visitor, and seated himself upon an old leather-stuffed chair
+in front of the desk.
+
+"Now, sir," said he, swinging around to Wallingford and puffing out
+his cheeks, "I am ready to consider whatever you may have to say."
+
+Mr. Wallingford's first action was one well-calculated to inspire
+interest. First he drew out the desk slide at Mr. Bubble's left;
+then from his inside vest pocket he produced a large flat package
+of greenbacks, no bill being of less than a hundred dollars'
+denomination. From this pile he carefully counted out eight thousand
+dollars, and put the balance, which Mr. Bubble hastily estimated at
+about fifteen hundred, back in his pocket. This procedure having been
+conducted with vast and impressive silence, Mr. Wallingford cleared
+his throat.
+
+"I have come to ask a great favor of you," said he, sinking his
+voice to barely above a whisper. "I am a stranger here. I find,
+unfortunately, that there is no bank in Blakeville, and I have more
+money with me than I care to carry about. I learned that you are the
+only real man of affairs in the town, and have come to ask you if you
+would kindly make room for this in your private safe for a day or so."
+
+Mr. Bubble, rotating his thumbs slowly upon each other, considered
+that money in profound silence. The possessor of so much loose cash
+was a gentleman, a man to be respected.
+
+"With pleasure," said Mr. Bubble. "I don't myself like to have so much
+money about me, and I'd advise you, as soon as convenient, to take it
+up to Millford, where I do my banking. In the meantime, I don't blame
+you, Mr. Wallingford, for not wanting to carry this much money about
+with you, nor for hesitating to put it in Jim Ranger's old tin safe."
+
+"Thank you," said Wallingford. "I feel very much relieved."
+
+Mr. Bubble drew paper and pen toward him.
+
+"I'll write you a receipt," he offered.
+
+"Not at all; not at all," protested Wallingford, having gaged Mr.
+Bubble very accurately. "Between gentlemen such matters are entirely
+superfluous. By the way, Mr. Bubble, I see you have a large swamp on
+your land. Do you intend to let it lie useless for ever?"
+
+"What else can I do with it?" demanded Mr. Bubble, wondering. That
+swamp had always been there. Naturally, it would always be there.
+
+"You can't do very much with it," admitted Wallingford. "However, it
+is barely possible that I might see a way to utilize it, if the price
+were reasonable enough. What would you take for it?"
+
+This was an entirely different matter. Mr. Bubble pursed up his lips.
+
+"Well, I don't know. The land surrounding it is worth two hundred
+dollars an acre."
+
+Wallingford grinned, but only internally. He knew this to be a highly
+exaggerated estimate, but he let it pass without comment.
+
+"No doubt," he agreed; "but your swamp is worth exactly nothing
+per square mile; in fact, worth less than nothing. It is only a
+breeding-place of mosquitoes and malaria. How many acres does it
+cover?"
+
+"About forty."
+
+"I suppose ten dollars an acre would buy it?"
+
+"By no means," protested Mr. Bubble. "I wouldn't have a right of way
+split through my farm for four hundred dollars. Couldn't think of it."
+
+It was Wallingford's turn to be silent.
+
+"Tell you what I'll do," he finally began. "I think of settling down
+in Blakeville. I like the town from what I've seen of it, and I may
+make some important investments here."
+
+Mr. Bubble nodded his head gravely. A man who carried over eight
+thousand dollars surplus cash in his pocket had a right to talk that
+way.
+
+"The matter, of course," continued Wallingford, "requires considerable
+further investigation. In the meantime, I stand ready to pay you now a
+hundred dollars for a thirty-day option upon forty acres of your swamp
+land, the hundred to apply upon a total purchase price of one thousand
+dollars. Moreover, I'll make it a part of the contract that no
+enterprise be undertaken upon this ground without receiving your
+sanction."
+
+Mr. Bubble considered this matter in pompous silence for some little
+time.
+
+"Suppose we just reduce that proposition to writing, Mr. Wallingford,"
+he finally suggested, and without stirring from his seat he raised his
+voice and called: "Fannie!"
+
+In reply two voices approached the door, one sharp, querulous,
+nagging, the other, the younger and fresher voice, protesting; then
+the girl came in, followed closely by her stepmother. The girl looked
+at Wallingford brightly. He was the first young man who had bearded
+the lioness at Bubble Villa, and she appreciated the novelty. Mrs.
+Bubble, however, distinctly glared at him, though the eyes of both
+women roved from him to the pile of bills held down with a paper
+weight on Mr. Bubble's desk. Mr. Bubble made way for his daughter.
+
+"Write a little agreement for Mr. Wallingford and myself," directed
+Mr. Bubble, and dictated it, much to the surprise of the women, for
+Jonas always did his own writing. They did not understand that he,
+also, wished to make an impression.
+
+With a delicate flush of self-consciousness in her occupation Fannie
+wrote the option agreement, and later another document, acknowledging
+the receipt of eight thousand dollars to be held in trust. In exchange
+for the first paper J. Rufus gravely handed Mr. Bubble a
+hundred-dollar bill.
+
+"To-morrow," said he, "I shall drop around to see you at your office,
+to confer with you about my proposed enterprise."
+
+As Wallingford left the room, attended by the almost obsequious
+Bubble, he caught a lingering glance of interest, curiosity, and
+perhaps more, from the bright eyes of Fannie Bubble. Her stepmother,
+however, distinctly sniffed.
+
+Meanwhile, Wallingford, at the gate, turned for a moment toward the
+distant swamp where it lay now ebony and glittering silver in the
+moonlight, knitted his brows in perplexity, lit another of his black
+cigars, and strolled back to the hotel.
+
+What on earth should he do with that swamp, now that he had it?
+Something good ought to be hinged on it. Should he form a drainage
+company to restore it to good farming land? No. At best he could only
+get a hundred and fifty dollars an acre, or, say, six thousand dollars
+for the forty. The acreage alone was to cost him a thousand; no
+telling what the drainage would cost, but whatever the figure there
+would not be profit enough to hypothecate. And it was no part of
+Wallingford's intention to do any actual work. He was through for ever
+with drudgery; for him was only creation.
+
+What should he do with that swamp? As he thought of it, his mind's eye
+could see only its blackness. It was, after all, only a mass of dense,
+sticky, black mud!
+
+Still revolving this problem in mind, Wallingford went to his bedroom,
+where he had scarcely arrived when Bob Ranger followed him, his
+sleeves rolled up again and a pail of steaming water in each hand.
+
+"The old man said you was to have a bath when you come in," stated
+Bob. "How hot do you want it?"
+
+"I think I'll let it go till morning and have it cold," replied
+Wallingford, chuckling.
+
+"All right," said Bob. "It's your funeral and not mine. I'll just pour
+this in now and it'll get cool by morning."
+
+In the next room--wherein the bed had been hastily replaced by two
+chairs, an old horsehair lounge and a kitchen table covered with a red
+table-cloth--Wallingford found a huge tin bath-tub, shaped like an
+elongated coal scuttle, dingy white on the inside and dingy green on
+the outside, and battered full of dents.
+
+"How'd you get along?" asked Bob, pausing to wipe the perspiration
+from his brow after he had emptied the two pails of water into the
+tub.
+
+"All right," said Wallingford with a reminiscent smile.
+
+"Old Mrs. Bubble drive you off the place?"
+
+"No," replied Wallingford loftily. "I went in the house and talked a
+while."
+
+"Go on!" exclaimed Bob, the glow of admiration almost shining through
+his skin. "Say, you're a peach, all right! How do you like Fannie?"
+
+"She's a very nice girl," opined Wallingford.
+
+"Yes," agreed Bob. "She's getting a little old, though. She was
+twenty her last birthday. She'll be an old maid pretty soon, but it's
+her own fault."
+
+Then Bob went after more water, and Wallingford, seating himself at
+the table with paper and pencil, plunged into a succession of rambling
+figures concerning Jonas Bubble's black swamp; and he figured and
+puzzled far into the night, with the piquant face of Miss Fannie
+drifting here and there among the figures.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+ WHEREIN BLAKEVILLE HAS OPPORTUNITY TO BECOME
+ A GREAT ART CENTER
+
+
+The next morning Wallingford requisitioned the services of Bob and the
+little sorrel team again, and drove out to Jonas Bubble's swamp.
+Arrived there he climbed the fence, and, taking a sliver of fence rail
+with him, gravely prodded into the edge of the swamp in various
+places, hauling it up in each case dripping with viscid black mud,
+which he examined with the most minute care, dropping tiny drops upon
+the backs of clean cards and spreading them out smoothly with the tip
+of his finger, while he looked up into the sky inquiringly, not one
+gesture of his conduct lost upon the curious Bob.
+
+When he climbed back into the buggy, Bob, finding it impossible longer
+to restrain his quivering curiosity, asked him:
+
+"What's it good for?"
+
+"I can't tell you just yet," said Wallingford kindly, "but if it is
+what I think it is, Bob, I've made a great discovery, one that I am
+sure will not only increase my wealth but add greatly to the riches of
+Blakeville. Do you know where I could find Jonas Bubble at this hour?"
+
+"Down at the mill, sure."
+
+"Drive down there."
+
+As they drove past Jonas Bubble's house they saw Miss Fannie on the
+back porch, in an old wrapper, peeling potatoes, and heard the sharp
+voice of the second Mrs. Bubble scolding her.
+
+"Say," said Bob, "if that old rip was my stepmother I'd poke her
+head-first into that swamp back yonder."
+
+Wallingford shook his head.
+
+"She'd turn it black," he gravely objected.
+
+"Why, it is black," protested Bob, opening his eyes in bewilderment.
+
+In reply to this Wallingford merely chuckled. Bob, regarding him in
+perplexity for a while, suddenly saw that this was a joke, and on the
+way to the mill he snickered a score of times. Queer chap, this
+Wallingford; rich, no doubt, and smart as a whip; and something
+mysterious about him, too!
+
+Wallingford found Jonas Bubble in flour-sifted garments in his office,
+going over a dusty file of bills.
+
+"Mr. Bubble," said he, "I have been down to your swamp and have
+investigated its possibilities. I am now prepared, since I have
+secured the right to purchase this land, to confide to you the
+business search in which I have for some time been engaged, and which
+now, I hope, is concluded. Do you know, Mr. Bubble, the valuable
+deposit I think I have found in my swamp?"
+
+"No!" ejaculated Bubble, stricken solemn by the confidential tone.
+"What is it?"
+
+Wallingford took a long breath, swelling out his already broad chest,
+and, leaning over most impressively, tapped his compelling finger upon
+Jonas Bubble's knee. Then said he, with almost tragic earnestness:
+
+"_Black Mud!_"
+
+Jonas Bubble drew back astounded, eying Wallingford with affrighted
+incredulity. He had thought this young man sane.
+
+"Black--" he gasped; "black--" and then hesitated.
+
+"_Mud!_" finished Wallingford for him, more impressively than before.
+"High and low, far and near, Mr. Bubble, I have searched for a deposit
+of this sort. Wherever there was a swamp I have been, but never until
+I came to Blakeville did I find what I believe to be the correct
+quality of black mud."
+
+"Black mud," repeated Jonas Bubble meaninglessly, but awed in spite of
+himself.
+
+"_Etruscan_ black mud," corrected Wallingford. "The same rare earth
+out of which the world famous Etruscan pottery is manufactured in the
+little village of Etrusca, near Milan, Italy. The smallest objects of
+this beautiful jet-black pottery retail in this country from ten
+dollars upward. With your permission I am going to express some
+samples of this deposit to the world-famous pottery designer, Signor
+Vittoreo Matteo, formerly in charge of the Etruscan Pottery, but who
+is now in Boston waiting with feverish impatience for me to find a
+suitable deposit of this rare black mud. If I have at last found it,
+Mr. Bubble, I wish to congratulate you and Blakeville, as well as
+myself, upon the acquisition of an enterprise which will not only
+reflect vast credit on your charming and progressive little town, but
+will bring it a splendid accession of wealth."
+
+Mr. Bubble rose from his chair and shook hands with young Wallingford
+in great, though pompous, emotion.
+
+"My son," said he, "go right ahead. Take all of it you want--that
+is," he hastily corrected himself, "all you need for experimental
+purposes." For, he reflected, there was no need to waste any of the
+rare and valuable Etruscan black mud. "I think I'll go with you."
+
+"I'd be pleased to have you," said Wallingford, as, indeed, he was.
+
+On the way, Wallingford stopped at Hen Moozer's General Merchandise
+Emporium and Post-Office, where he bought a large tin pail with a
+tight cover, a small tin pail and a long-handled garden trowel which
+he bent at right angles; and seven people walked off of Hen Moozer's
+porch into the middle of the street to see the town magnate and the
+resplendent stranger, driven by the elated Bob Ranger, whirl down
+Maple Street toward Jonas Bubble's swamp.
+
+Arrived there, who so active in direction as Jonas Bubble?
+
+"Bob," he ordered, protruding his girth at least three inches beyond
+its normal position, "hitch those horses and jump over in the field
+here with us. Mr. Wallingford, you will want this sample from
+somewhere near the center of the swamp. Bob, back yonder beyond that
+clump of bushes you will find that old flatboat we had right after
+the big rainy season. Hunt around down there for a long pole and pole
+out some place near the middle. Take this shovel and dig down and get
+mud enough to fill these two buckets."
+
+Bob stood unimpressed. It was not an attractive task.
+
+"And Bob," added Wallingford mildly, "here's a dollar, and I know
+where there's another."
+
+"Sure," said Bob with the greatest of alacrity, and he hurried back to
+where the old flatboat, water-soaked and nearly as black as the swamp
+upon which it rested, was half submerged beyond the clump of bushes.
+When, after infinite labor, he had pushed that clumsy craft afloat
+upon the bosom of the shallow swamp, Mr. Bubble was on the spot with
+infinite direction. He told Bob, shouting from the shore, just where
+to proceed and how, down to the handling of each trowelful of dripping
+mud, and even to the emptying of each small pailful into the large
+pail.
+
+"I don't know exactly how I'll get this boxed for shipping," hinted
+Wallingford, as Bob carried the pail laboriously back to the buggy.
+
+"Right down at the mill," invited Mr. Bubble with great cordiality.
+"I'll have my people look after it for you."
+
+"That's very kind of you," replied Wallingford. "I'll give you the
+address," and upon the back of one of his own cards he wrote: Sig.
+Vittoreo Matteo, 710 Marabon Building, Boston, Mass., U. S. A., care
+Horace G. Daw.
+
+That night he wrote a careful letter of explanation to Horace G. Daw.
+
+Two weeks to wait. Oh, well, Wallingford could amuse himself by
+working up a local reputation. It was while he was considering this,
+upon the following day, that a farmer with three teeth drove up in a
+dilapidated spring-wagon drawn by a pair of beautiful bay horses, and
+stopped in front of Jim Ranger's livery and sales stable to talk hay.
+Wallingford, sitting in front of the hotel in lazy meditation, walked
+over and examined the team with a critical eye. They were an exquisite
+match, perfect in every limb, with manes and tails and coats of that
+peculiar silken sheen belonging to perfect health and perfect care.
+
+"Very nice team you have," observed Wallingford.
+
+"Finest match team anywhere," agreed Abner Follis, plucking at his
+gray goatee and mouthing a straw, "an' I make a business o' raisin'
+thoroughbreds. Cousins, they are, an' without a blemish on 'em. An'
+trot--you'd ought to see that team trot."
+
+"What'll you take for them?" asked Wallingford.
+
+The response of Abner Follis was quick and to the point. He kept a
+careful appraisement upon all his live stock.
+
+"Seven hundred and fifty," said he, naming a price that allowed ample
+leeway for dickering.
+
+It was almost a disappointment to him that Wallingford produced his
+wallet, counted over the exact amount that had been asked, and said
+briefly:
+
+"Unhitch them."
+
+"Well!" said Abner, slowly taking the money and throwing away his
+straw in petulance. It was dull and uninteresting to have a bargain
+concluded so quickly.
+
+Wallingford, however, knew what he was about. Within an hour everybody
+in town knew of his purchase. Speculation that had been mildly active
+concerning him now became feverish. He was a rich nabob with money to
+throw away; had so much money that he would not even dicker in a horse
+deal--and this was the height of human recklessness in Blakeville.
+Wallingford, purchasing Jim Ranger's new buggy and his best set of
+harness, drove to the Bubbles', the eyed of all observers, but before
+he had opened the gate Mrs. Bubble was on the porch.
+
+"Jonas ain't at home," she shrilled down at him.
+
+"Yes, I know," replied Wallingford; "but I came to see Miss Fannie."
+
+"She's busy," said Mrs. Bubble with forbidding loftiness. "She's in
+the kitchen getting dinner."
+
+Wallingford, however, strode quite confidently up the walk, and by the
+time he reached the porch Miss Fannie was in the door, removing her
+apron.
+
+"What a pretty turnout!" she exclaimed.
+
+"It's a beauty," agreed Wallingford. "I just bought it from Abner
+Follis."
+
+She smiled.
+
+"I bet he beat you in the bargain."
+
+"So long as I'm satisfied," retorted Wallingford, smiling back at her,
+"I don't see why we shouldn't all be happy. Come on and take the first
+ride in it."
+
+She glanced at her stepmother dubiously.
+
+"I'm very busy," she replied; "and I'd have to change my dress."
+
+"You look good enough just as you are," he insisted. "Come right on.
+Mrs. Bubble can finish the dinner. I'll bet she's a better cook,
+anyhow," and he laughed cordially.
+
+The remark was intended as a compliment, but Mrs. Bubble took distinct
+umbrage. This was, without doubt, a premeditated slur. Of course he
+knew that she had once been Mr. Bubble's cook!
+
+"Fannie can't go," she snapped.
+
+Wallingford walked straight up to Mrs. Bubble, beaming down upon her
+from his overawing height; and for just one affrighted moment Fannie
+feared that he intended to uptilt her stepmother's chin, or make some
+equally familiar demonstration. Instead, he only laughed down into
+that lady's belligerent eyes.
+
+"Yes, she can," he insisted with large persuasiveness. "You were young
+once yourself, Mrs. Bubble, and not so very long ago."
+
+It was not what he said, but his jovial air of secret understanding,
+that made Mrs. Bubble flush and laugh nervously and soften.
+
+"Oh, I reckon I can get along," she said.
+
+Miss Fannie, with a wondering glance at Wallingford, had already flown
+up-stairs, and J. Rufus set himself deliberately to be agreeable to
+Mrs. Bubble. When Fannie came tripping down again in an incredibly
+short space of time, having shaken herself out of one frock and into
+another with an expedition which surprised even herself, she found her
+stepmother actually giggling! And when the young couple drove away in
+the bright, shining new rig behind the handsome bays, Mrs. Bubble
+watched after them with something almost like wistfulness. She had
+been young herself, once--and not so very long ago!
+
+Opposite the Bubble swamp Wallingford stopped for a moment.
+
+"I hope to be a very near neighbor of yours," said he, waving his hand
+out toward the wonderful deposit of genuine Etruscan black mud. "Did
+your father tell you about the pottery studios which may be built
+here?"
+
+"Not a thing," she confessed with a slightly jealous laugh. "Papa
+never tells us anything at home. We'll hear it on the street, no
+doubt, as we usually do."
+
+"Your father is a most estimable man, but I fear he makes a grave
+mistake in not telling you about things," declared Wallingford. "I
+believe in the value of a woman's intuition, and if I were as closely
+related to you as your father I am sure I should confide all my
+prospects to you."
+
+Miss Fannie gave a little inward gasp. That serious tide in the talk,
+fraught with great possibilities, for which every girl longs and which
+every girl dreads, was already setting ashore.
+
+"You might get fooled," she said. "Father don't think any woman has
+very much gumption, and least of all me, since--since he married
+again."
+
+"I understand," said Wallingford gently, and drove on. "Just to show
+you how _much_ differently I look at things from your father, I'm
+going to tell you all about the black pottery project and see what you
+think of it."
+
+Thereupon he explained to her in minute detail, a wealth of which came
+to him on the spur of the moment, the exact workings of the Etruscan
+pottery art. He painted for her, in the gray of stone and the yellow
+of face brick and the red of tiling, the beautiful studio buildings
+that were to be erected yonder facing the swamp; he showed her through
+cozy, cheerfully lighted apartments in those studios, where the best
+trained artists of Europe, under the direction of the wizard, Vittoreo
+Matteo, should execute ravishments of Etruscan black pottery; he
+showed her, as the bays pranced on, connoisseurs and collectors
+coming from all over the country to visit the Blakeville studios,
+and carrying away priceless gems of the ceramic art at incalculable
+prices!
+
+The girl drank in all these details with thirsty avidity.
+
+"It's splendid! Perfectly grand!" she assured him with vast
+enthusiasm, and in her memory was stored every precious word that this
+genius had said; and they were stored in logical order, ready to
+reproduce on the slightest provocation, which was precisely the result
+which Wallingford had intended to produce.
+
+It was nearing noon now, and making a _detour_ by the railway road
+they drove up in front of the mill with the spanking bays just as
+Jonas Bubble was coming out of his office to go to dinner. Hilariously
+they invited him into the carriage, and in state drove him home.
+
+Wallingford very wisely kept away from the Bubble home that afternoon
+and that evening, and by the next morning every woman in town had told
+all her men-folk about the vast Etruscan black pottery project!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+ WALLINGFORD BEGINS TO UTILIZE THE WONDERFUL
+ ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD
+
+
+Wallingford was just going in to dinner when a tall, thin-visaged
+young lady, who might have been nearing thirty, but insisted on all
+the airs and graces of twenty, came boldly up to the Atlas Hotel in
+search of him, and, by her right of being a public character,
+introduced herself. She was Miss Forsythe, principal over one other
+teacher in the Blakeville public school; moreover, she was president
+of the Women's Culture Club!
+
+"It is about the latter that I came to see you, Mr. Wallingford," she
+said, pushing back a curl which had been carefully trained to be
+wayward. "The Women's Culture Club meets this coming Saturday
+afternoon at the residence of Mrs. Moozer. It just happens that we are
+making an exhaustive study of the Italian Renaissance, and we have
+nothing, _positively nothing_, about the renaissance of Italian
+ceramics! I beg of you, Mr. Wallingford, I plead with you, to be our
+guest upon that afternoon and address us upon Etruscan Pottery."
+
+Wallingford required but one second to adjust himself to this new
+phase. This was right where he lived. He could out-pretend anybody who
+ever made pretensions to having a pretense. He expanded his broad
+chest and beamed.
+
+He knew but little about art, being only the business man of the
+projected American Etruscan Black Pottery Studios, but he would be
+more than pleased to tell them that little. He would, in fact, be
+charmed!
+
+"You don't know how kind, how good you are, and what a treat your
+practical talk will be, I am sure," gurgled Miss Forsythe, biting
+first her upper lip and then her lower to make them redder, and then,
+still gurgling, she swept away, leaving Wallingford chuckling.
+
+Immediately after lunch he went over to the telegraph office and wired
+to the most exclusive establishment of its sort in New York:
+
+     Express three black pottery vases Etruscan preferred but
+     most expensive you have one eighteen inches high and two
+     twelve inches high am wiring fifty dollars to insure
+     transportation send balance C. O. D.
+
+Not the least of J. Rufus' smile was that inserted clause, "Etruscan
+preferred." He had not the slightest idea that there was such pottery
+as Etruscan in the world, but his sage conclusion was that the big
+firm would think they had overlooked something; and his other clause,
+"most expensive you have," would insure proper results. That night he
+wrote to Blackie Daw:
+
+     Whatever you do, don't buy vase either twelve or eighteen
+     inches high. Send one about nine.
+
+Saturday morning the package came, and the excess bill was two hundred
+and forty-five dollars, exclusive of express charges, all of which J.
+Rufus cheerfully paid. He had that box delivered unopened to the
+residence of Mrs. Henry Moozer. That afternoon he dressed himself with
+consummate care, his gray frock suit and his gray bow tie, his gray
+waistcoat and his gray spats, by some subtle personality he threw
+about them, conveying delicately the idea of an ardent art amateur,
+but an humble one, because he felt himself insufficiently gifted to
+take part in actual creation.
+
+Was Miss Forsythe there? Miss Forsythe was there, in her pink silk,
+with cascade after cascade of ruffled flounces to take away the
+appalling height and thinness of her figure. Was Mrs. Moozer there?
+Dimly discernible, yes, backed into a corner and no longer mistress of
+her own house, though ineffectually trying to assert herself above a
+determined leadership. Also were there Mrs. Ranger, who was trying
+hard to learn to dote; Mrs. Priestly, who prided herself on a marked
+resemblance to Madame Melba, and had a high C which shattered
+chandeliers; and Mrs. Hispin, whose troublesome mustache in nowise
+interfered with her mad passion for the collection of antiques, which,
+fortunately consisting of early chromos, could be purchased cheaply in
+the vicinity of Blakeville; and Mrs. Bubble, whose specialty was the
+avoidance of all subjects connected with domestic science. Many other
+equally earnest and cultured ladies flocked about J. Rufus, as bees
+around a buckwheat blossom, until the capable and masterly president,
+by a careful accident arranging her skirts so that one inch of silken
+hose was visible, tapped her little silver gavel for order.
+
+There ensued the regular reports of committees, ponderous and grave in
+their frivolity; there ensued unfinished business--relating to a
+disputed sum of thirty-nine cents; there ensued new business--relating
+to a disputed flaw in the constitution; there ensued a discussion of
+scarcely repressed acidity upon the right of the president to
+interfere in committee work; and then the gurgling president--with
+many a reference to the great masters in Italian art, with a wide
+digression into the fields of ceramics in general and of Italian
+ceramics in particular, with a complete history of the plastic arts
+back to the ooze stage of geological formation--introduced the speaker
+of the day.
+
+J. Rufus, accepting gracefully his prominence, bowed extravagantly
+three times in response to the Chautauqua salute, and addressed those
+nineteen assembled ladies with a charming earnestness which did vast
+credit to himself and to the Italian ceramic renaissance. He invented
+for them on the spot a history of Etruscan pottery, a process of
+making it, a discovery of the wonderful Etruscan under-glaze, and the
+eye-moistening struggles and triumphs of the great Vittoreo Matteo
+from obscurity as a poor little barefooted Italian shepherd boy who
+was caught constructing wonderful figures out of plain mud.
+
+He regretted very much that he had been unable to secure, at such
+short notice, samples of the famous Etruscan pottery which this same
+Vittoreo Matteo had made famous, but he had secured the next best
+thing, and with renewed apologies to Mrs. Moozer, who had kindly
+consented to have a litter made upon her carpet, he would unpack the
+vases which had come that morning. With a fine eye for stage effect,
+Wallingford had had the covers of the boxes loosened, but had not had
+the excelsior removed. Now he had the box brought in and placed it
+upon the table, and then, from amid their careful wrappings, the
+precious vases were lifted!
+
+"Ah!"--"How _ex_-quisite!"--"Bee-yewtiful!" Such was the chorus of the
+enraptured culture club.
+
+Wallingford, smiling in calm triumph, was able to assure the almost
+fainting worshipers that these were but feeble substitutes for the
+exquisite creations that were shortly to be turned out in the studios
+that were to make Blakeville famous. Yes, he might now promise them
+that definitely! The matter was no longer one of conjecture. That
+very morning he had received an epoch-making letter from the
+great Vittoreo Matteo! This letter he read. It fairly exuded with
+tears--warm, emotional, Latin tears of joy--over the discovery of this
+priceless, this glorious, this beatific black mud! Already the great
+Vittoreo was at work upon the sample sent him, modeling a vase after
+one of his own famous shapes of Etrusca. It would soon be completed,
+he would have it fired, and then he would send it to his dear
+friend and successful manager, so that he might himself judge how
+inexpressibly more than perfect was the wonderful mud of Blakeville.
+
+[Illustration: "How _ex_-quisite!"--"Bee-yewtiful!" chorused the
+culture club]
+
+Mr. Wallingford was himself transported to nearly as ecstatic heights
+over the prospect as the redoubtable Vittoreo Matteo, and as a memento
+of this auspicious day he begged to present the largest of these vases
+to the Women's Culture Club, to be in the keeping of its charming
+president. One of the smaller vases he begged to present to the
+hostess of the afternoon in token of the delightful hour he had spent
+in that house. The other he retained to present to a very gracious
+matron, the hospitality of whose home he had already enjoyed, and with
+whose eminent husband he had already held the most pleasant business
+relations; whereat Mrs. Jonas Bubble fairly wriggled lest her
+confusion might not be seen or correctly interpreted.
+
+Close upon the frantic applause which followed these graceful
+gifts, pale tea and pink wafers were served by the Misses Priestly,
+Hispin, Moozer and Bubble, and the function was over except for the
+fluttering. Inadvertently, almost apparently quite inadvertently, when
+he went away, J. Rufus left behind him the crumpled C. O. D. bill
+which he had held in his hand while talking. That night Blakeville,
+from center to circumference, was talking of nothing but the prices
+of Etruscan vases. Why, these prices were not only stupendous, they
+were impossible--and yet there was the receipted bill! To think that
+anybody would pay real money in such enormous dole for mere earthen
+vases! It was preposterous; it was incredible--and yet there was the
+bill! Visions of wealth never before grasped by the minds of the
+citizens of Blakeville began to loom in the immediate horizon of every
+man, woman and child, and over all these visions of wealth hovered the
+beneficent figure of J. Rufus Wallingford.
+
+On Sunday J. Rufus, in solemn black frock-coat and shiny top hat,
+attended church. From church he went to the Bubble home, by the warm
+invitation of Jonas, for chicken dinner, and in the afternoon he took
+Miss Fannie driving behind the handsome bays. While she was making
+ready, however, he took Jonas Bubble in the rig and drove down to the
+swamp, where they paused in solemn, sober contemplation of that vast
+and beautiful expanse of Etruscan black mud. Mr. Bubble had, of
+course, seen the glowing letter of Vittoreo Matteo shortly after its
+arrival, and he was not unprepared for J. Rufus' urgency.
+
+"To-morrow," said J. Rufus, as he swept his hand out over the swamp
+with pride of possession, "to-morrow I shall exercise my option;
+to-morrow I shall begin drainage operations; to-morrow I shall order
+plans prepared for the first wing of the Blakeville Etruscan Studios,"
+and he pointed out a spot facing the Bubble mansion. "Only one thing
+worries me. In view of the fact that we shall have a large pay-roll
+and handle considerable of ready cash, I regret that Blakeville has no
+bank. Moreover, it grates upon me that the thriving little city of my
+adoption must depend on a smaller town for all its banking facilities.
+Why don't you start a bank, Mr. Bubble, and become its president? If
+you will start a subscription list to-morrow I'll take five thousand
+dollars' worth of stock myself."
+
+To become the president of a bank! That was an idea which had not
+previously presented itself to the pompous Mr. Bubble, but now that it
+had arrived it made his waistband uncomfortable. Well, the town needed
+a bank, and a bank was always profitable. His plain civic duty lay
+before him. President Bubble, of the Blakeville Bank; or, much better
+still, the Bubble Bank! Why not? He was already the most important man
+in the community, and his name carried the most weight. President
+Bubble, of the Bubble Bank! By George! It was a good idea!
+
+Meanwhile, a clean, clear deed and title to forty acres of Jonas
+Bubble's black mud was recorded in the Blake County court-house, and
+J. Rufus went to the city, returning with a discreet engineer, who
+surveyed and prodded and waded, and finally installed filtration boxes
+and a pumping engine; and all Blakeville came down to watch in solemn
+silence the monotonous jerks of the piston which lifted water from the
+swamp faster than it flowed in. For hours they stood, first on one
+foot and then on the other, watching the whir of the shining
+fly-wheel, the exhaust of the steam, the smoke of the stack, and the
+gushing of the black water through the big rubber nozzle to the
+stream which had heretofore merely trickled beneath the rickety wooden
+road culvert. It watched in awed silence the slow recession of waters,
+the appearance of unexpected little lakes and islands and slimy
+streams in the shining black bottom of that swamp.
+
+On the very day, too, that this work was installed, there came from
+Vittoreo Matteo, in Boston, the Etruscan vase. Wallingford, opening it
+in the privacy of his own room, was intensely relieved to find that
+Blackie had bought one of entirely different shape and style of
+decoration from those he had already shown, and he sent it immediately
+to the house of Mrs. Hispin, where that week's meeting of the Women's
+Culture Club was being held. He followed it with his own impressive
+self to show them the difference between the high-grade Etruscan ware
+and the inferior ware he had previously exhibited. He placed the two
+pieces side by side for comparison. Though they had been made by the
+same factory, the ladies of the Women's Culture Club one and all could
+see the enormous difference in the exquisiteness of the under-glaze.
+The Etruscan ware was infinitely superior, and just think! this
+beautiful vase was made from Blakeville's own superior article of
+black mud!
+
+Up in Hen Moozer's General Merchandise Emporium and Post-Office
+Wallingford arranged for a show window, and from behind its dusty
+panes he had the eternal pyramid of fly-specked canned goods removed.
+In its place he constructed a semi-circular amphitheater of pale blue
+velvet, bought from Moozer's own stock, and in its center he placed
+the priceless bit of Etruscan ware, the first splendid art object from
+the to-be-famous Blakeville Etruscan studios!
+
+In the meantime, Jonas Bubble had found willing subscribers to the
+stock of the Bubble Bank, and already was installing an impregnable
+vault in his vacant brick building at the intersection of Maple Avenue
+and Blake Street. By this time every citizen had a new impulse of
+civic pride, and vast commercial expansion was planned by every
+business man in Blakeville. Even the women felt the contagion, and it
+was one of the sorrows of Miss Forsythe's soul that her vacation
+arrangements had already been made for the summer, and that she should
+be compelled to go away even for a short time, leaving all this
+inspiriting progress behind her. It would be just like Mrs. Moozer to
+take advantage of the situation! Mrs. Moozer was vice-president of the
+Women's Culture Club.
+
+The Bubble County Bank collected its funds, took possession of its new
+quarters and made ready for business. Jonas Bubble, changing his
+attire to a frock suit for good and all, became its president. J.
+Rufus had also been offered an office in the bank, but he declined. A
+directorship had been urged upon him, but he steadfastly refused, with
+the same firmness that he had denied to Jonas Bubble a share in his
+pottery or even his drainage project. No, with his five thousand
+dollars' worth of stock he felt that he was taking as great a share as
+a stranger might, with modesty, appropriate to himself in their
+municipal advancement. Let the honors go to those who had grown up
+with the city, and who had furnished the substantial nucleus upon
+which their prosperity and advancement might be based.
+
+He intended, however, to make free use of the new banking facilities,
+and by way of showing the earnestness of that intention he drew
+from his New York bank half of the sum he had cleared on his big
+horse-racing "frame up," and deposited these funds in the Bubble Bank.
+True enough, three days after, he withdrew nearly the entire amount
+by draft in favor of one Horace G. Daw, of Boston, but a week later he
+deposited a similar amount from his New York bank, then increased that
+with the amount previously withdrawn in favor of Horace G. Daw. A few
+days later he withdrew the entire account, replaced three-fourths of
+it and drew out one-half of that, and it began to be talked about all
+over the town that Wallingford's enterprises were by no means confined
+to his Blakeville investments. He was a man of large financial
+affairs, which required the frequent transfer of immense sums of
+money. To keep up this rapid rotation of funds, Wallingford even
+borrowed money which Blackie Daw had obtained in the same horse-racing
+enterprise. Sometimes he had seventy-five thousand dollars in the
+Bubble Bank, and sometimes his balance was less than a thousand.
+
+In the meantime, J. Rufus allowed no opportunities for his reputation
+to become stale. In the Atlas Hotel he built a model bath-room which
+was to revert to Jim Ranger, without money and without price, when
+Wallingford should leave, and over his bath-tub he installed an
+instantaneous heater which was the pride and delight of the village.
+It cost him a pretty penny, but he got tenfold advertising from it.
+By the time this sensation had begun to die he was able to display
+drawings of the quaint and pretty vine-clad Etruscan studio, and to
+start men to digging trenches for the foundations!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+ THE GREAT VITTOREO MATTEO, MASTER OF BLACK
+ MUD, ARRIVES! BRAVA! HE DEPARTS! BRAVA!
+
+
+One day a tall, slender, black-haired, black-mustached and black-eyed
+young man, in a severely ministerial black frock suit, dropped off the
+train and inquired in an undoubted foreign accent for the Atlas Hotel.
+Even the station loungers recognized him at once as the great and
+long-expected artist, Signor Vittoreo Matteo, who, save in the one
+respect of short hair, was thoroughly satisfying to the eye and
+imagination. Even before the spreading of his name upon the register
+of the Atlas Hotel, all Blakeville knew that he had arrived.
+
+In the hotel office he met J. Rufus. Instantly he shrieked for joy,
+embraced Wallingford, kissed that discomfited gentleman upon both
+cheeks and fell upon his neck, jabbering in most broken English his
+joy at meeting his dear, dear friend once more. In the privacy of
+Wallingford's own room, Wallingford's dear Italian friend threw
+himself upon the bed and kicked up his heels like a boy, stuffing the
+corner of a pillow in his mouth to suppress his shrieks of laughter.
+
+"Ain't I the regular buya-da-banan Dago for fair?" he demanded,
+without a trace of his choice Italian accent.
+
+"Blackie," rejoiced Wallingford, wiping his eyes, "I never met your
+parents, but I've a bet down that they came from Naples as ballast in
+a cattle steamer. But I'm afraid you'll strain yourself on this. Don't
+make it too strong."
+
+"I'll make Salvini's acting as tame as a jointed crockery doll,"
+asserted Blackie. "This deal is nuts and raisins to me; and say, J.
+Rufus, your sending for me was just in the nick of time. Just got a
+tip from a post-office friend that the federal officers were going to
+investigate my plant, so I'm glad to have a vacation. What's this new
+stunt of yours, anyhow?"
+
+"It's a cinch," declared Wallingford, "but I don't want to scramble
+your mind with anything but the story of your own life."
+
+To his own romantic, personal history, as Vittoreo Matteo, and to the
+interesting fabrications about the world-famous Etruscan pottery, in
+the village of Etrusca, near Milan, Italy, Blackie listened most
+attentively.
+
+"All right," said he at the finish; "I get you. Now lead me forth to
+the merry, merry villagers."
+
+Behind the spanking bays which had made Fannie Bubble the envied of
+every girl in Blakeville, Wallingford drove Blackie forth. Already
+many of the faithful had gathered at the site of the Blakeville
+Etruscan Studios in anticipation of the great Matteo's coming, and
+when the tall, black-eyed Italian jumped out of the buggy they fairly
+quivered with gratified curiosity. How well he looked the part! If
+only he had had long hair! The eyes of the world-famous Italian
+ceramic expert, however, were not for the assembled denizens of
+Blakeville; they were only for that long and eagerly desired deposit
+of Etruscan soil. He leaped from the buggy; he dashed through the gap
+in the fence; he rushed to the side of that black swamp, the edges of
+which had evaporated now until they were but a sticky mass, and said:
+
+"Oh, da g-r-r-a-a-n-da mod!"
+
+Forthwith, disregarding his cuffs, disregarding his rings,
+disregarding everything, he plunged both his white hands into that
+sticky mass and brought them up dripping-full of that precious
+material--the genuine, no, better than genuine, Etruscan black mud!
+
+A cheer broke out from assembled Blakeville. This surely was artistic
+frenzy! This surely was the emotional temperament! This surely was the
+manner in which the great Italian black-pottery expert _should_ act in
+the first sight of his beloved black mud!
+
+"Da gr-r-r-r-r-a-a-n-da mod!" he repeated over and over, and drew it
+close to his face that he might inspect it with a near and loving eye.
+
+One might almost have thought that he was about to kiss it, to bury
+his nose in it; one almost expected him to jump into that pond and
+wallow in it, his joy at seeing it was so complete.
+
+It was J. Rufus Wallingford himself who, catching the contagion of
+this superb fervor, ran to the pail of drinking-water kept for the
+foundation workmen, and brought it to the great artist. J. Rufus
+himself poured water upon the great artist's hands until those hands
+were free of their Etruscan coating, and with his own immaculate
+handkerchief he dried those deft and skilful fingers, while the great
+Italian potter looked up into the face of his business manager with
+almost tears in his eyes!
+
+It was a wonderful scene, one never to be forgotten, and in the
+enthusiasm of that psychological moment Mrs. Moozer rushed forward.
+Mrs. Moozer, acting president of the Women's Culture Club in the
+absence of Miss Forsythe, saw here a glorious opportunity; here was
+where she could "put one over" upon that all-absorptive young lady.
+
+"My dear Mr. Wallingford, you must introduce me at once!" she
+exclaimed. "I can not any longer restrain my impatience."
+
+His own voice quavering emotions of several sorts, Wallingford
+introduced them, and Mrs. Moozer shook ecstatically the hand which
+had just caressed the dear swamp.
+
+"And so this is the great Matteo!" she exclaimed. "Signor, as acting
+president of the Women's Culture Club, I claim you for an address upon
+your sublime art next Saturday afternoon. Let business claim you
+afterward."
+
+"I hav'a--not da gooda Englis," said Blackie Daw, with an
+indescribable gesture of the shoulders and right arm, "but whata
+leetle I cana say, I s'alla be amost aglad to tella da ladees."
+
+Never did man enjoy himself more than did Blackie Daw. Blakeville went
+wild over this gifted, warmly temperamental foreigner. They dined him
+and they listened to his soul-satisfying, broken English with vast
+respect, even with veneration; the women because he was an artist, and
+the men because he represented vast money-earning capacity. Even the
+far-away president of the Women's Culture Club heard of his advent
+from a faithful adherent, an anti-Moozer and pro-Forsythe member, and
+on Saturday morning J. Rufus Wallingford received a gushing letter
+from that enterprising lady.
+
+     MY DEAR MR. WALLINGFORD:
+
+     I have been informed that the great event has happened, and
+     that the superb artist has at last arrived in Blakeville;
+     moreover, that he is to favor the Women's Culture Club, of
+     which I have the honor to be president, with a talk upon
+     his delightful art. I simply can not resist presiding at
+     that meeting, and I hope it is not uncharitable toward Mrs.
+     Moozer that I feel it my duty to do so; consequently I
+     shall arrive in time, I trust, to introduce him; moreover,
+     to talk with him in his own, limpid, liquid language. I
+     have been, for the past month, taking phonograph lessons in
+     Italian for this moment, and I trust that it will be a
+     pleasant surprise to him to be addressed in his native
+     tongue.
+
+Wallingford rushed up-stairs to where Blackie was leisurely getting
+ready for breakfast.
+
+"Old scout," he gasped, "your poor old mother in Italy is at the point
+of death, so be grief-stricken and hustle! Get ready for the next
+train out of town, you hear? Look at this!" and he thrust in front of
+Blackie's eyes the fatal letter.
+
+Blackie looked at it and comprehended its significance.
+
+"What time does the first train leave?" he asked.
+
+"I don't know, but whatever time it is I'll get you down to it," said
+Wallingford. "This is warning enough for me. It's time to close up and
+take my profits."
+
+The next east-bound train found Blackie Daw and Wallingford at the
+station, and just as it slowed down, Blackie, with Wallingford helping
+him carry his grips, was at the steps of the parlor car. He stood
+aside for the stream of descending passengers to step down, and had
+turned to address some remark to Wallingford, when he saw that
+gentleman's face blanch and his jaw drop. A second later a gauzy
+female had descended from the car and seized upon J. Rufus. Even as
+she turned upon him, Blackie felt the sinking certainty that this was
+Miss Forsythe.
+
+"And this is Signor Matteo, I am sure," she gushed. "You're _not_
+going away!"
+
+"Yes," interposed Wallingford, "his grandmother--I mean his mother--in
+Genoa is at the point of death, and he must make a hasty trip. He will
+return again in a month."
+
+"Oh, it is too bad, too bad indeed!" she exclaimed. "I sympathize with
+you, _so_ deeply, Signor Matteo. Signor,..."
+
+The dreaded moment had come, and Wallingford braced himself as Miss
+Forsythe, cocking her head upon one side archly, like a dear little
+bird, gurgled out one of her very choicest bits of phonograph Italian!
+
+Blackie Daw never batted an eyelash. He beamed upon Miss Forsythe,
+he displayed his dazzling white teeth in a smile of intense
+gratification, he grasped Miss Forsythe's two hands in the fervor of
+his enthusiasm--and, with every appearance of lively intelligence
+beaming from his eyes, he fired at Miss Forsythe a tumultuous stream
+of utterly unintelligible gibberish!
+
+As his flow continued, to the rhythm of an occasional, warm, double
+handshake, Miss Forsythe's face turned pink and then red, and when at
+last, upon the conductor's signal, Blackie hastily tore himself away
+and clambered on board, waving his hand to the last and erupting
+strange syllables which had no kith or kin, Miss Forsythe turned to
+Wallingford, nearly crying.
+
+"It is humiliating; it is _so_ humiliating," she admitted, trapped
+into confession by the suddenness of it all; "but, after all my weeks
+of preparation, I wasn't able to understand one word of that
+beautiful, limpid Italian!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+ IN WHICH J. RUFUS GIVES HIMSELF THE SURPRISE
+ OF HIS LIFE
+
+
+Wallingford had kept his finger carefully upon the pulse of the Bubble
+Bank by apparently inconsequential conversations with President
+Bubble, and he knew its deposits and its surplus almost to the dollar.
+Twice now he had checked out his entire account and borrowed nearly
+the face of his bank stock, on short time, against his mere note of
+hand, replacing the amounts quickly and at the same time depositing
+large sums, which he almost immediately checked out again.
+
+On the Saturday following Blackie Daw's departure all points had been
+brought together: the drainage operation had been completed; walls had
+been built about the three springs which supplied the swamp; the
+foundation of the studio had been completed, and all his workmen paid
+off and discharged; and the surplus of the Bubble Bank had reached
+approximately its high-water mark.
+
+On Sunday Wallingford, taking dinner with the Bubbles, unrolled a set
+of drawings, showing a beautiful Colonial residence which he proposed
+to build on vacant property he had that day bought, just east of Jonas
+Bubble's home.
+
+"Good!" approved Jonas with a clumsily bantering glance at his
+daughter, who colored deliciously. "Going to get married and settle
+down?"
+
+"You never can tell," laughed Wallingford. "Whether I do or not,
+however, the building of one or several houses like this would be a
+good investment, for the highly paid decorators and modelers which the
+pottery will employ will pay good rents."
+
+Jonas nodded gravely.
+
+"How easily success comes to men of enterprise and far-sightedness,"
+he declared with hearty approbation, in which there was mixed a large
+amount of self-complacency; for in thus complimenting Wallingford he
+could not but compliment himself.
+
+On Monday Wallingford walked into the Bubble Bank quite confidently.
+
+"Bubble, how much is my balance?" he asked, as he had done several
+times before.
+
+Mr. Bubble, smiling, turned to his books.
+
+"Three thousand one hundred and sixty-two dollars and fifty-eight
+cents," said he.
+
+"Why, I'm a pauper!" protested Wallingford. "I never could keep track
+of my bank balance. Well, that isn't enough. I'll have to borrow
+some."
+
+"I guess we can arrange that," said Jonas with friendly, one might
+almost say paternal, encouragement. "How much do you want?"
+
+"Well, I'll have to have about forty-five thousand dollars, all told,"
+replied Wallingford in an offhand manner.
+
+He had come behind the railing, as he always did. He was leaning at
+the end of Mr. Bubble's desk, his hands crossed before him. From
+his finger sparkled a big three-carat diamond; from his red-brown
+cravat--price three-fifty--sparkled another brilliant white stone
+fully as large; an immaculate white waistcoat was upon his broad
+chest; from his pocket depended a richly jeweled watch-fob. For
+just an instant Jonas Bubble was staggered, and then the recently
+imbibed idea of large operations quickly reasserted itself. Why, here
+before him stood a commercial Napoleon. Only a week or so before
+Wallingford's bank balance had been sixty thousand dollars; at other
+times it had been even more, and there had been many intervals
+between when his balance had been less than it was now. Here was a man
+to whom forty-five thousand dollars meant a mere temporary convenience
+in conducting operations of incalculable size. Here was a man who had
+already done more to advance the prosperity of Blakeville than any one
+other--excepting, of course, himself--in its history. Here was a man
+predestined by fate to enormous wealth, and, moreover, one who might
+be linked to Mr. Bubble, he hoped and believed, by ties even stronger
+than mere business associations.
+
+"Pretty good sum, Wallingford," said he. "We have the money, though,
+and I don't see why we shouldn't arrange it. Thirty-day note, I
+suppose?"
+
+"Oh, anything you like," said Wallingford carelessly. "Fifteen days
+will do just as well, but I suppose you'd rather have the interest for
+thirty," and he laughed pleasantly.
+
+"Yes, indeed," Jonas replied, echoing the laugh. "You're just in the
+nick of time, though, Wallingford. A month from now we wouldn't have
+so much. I'm making arrangements not to have idle capital on hand."
+
+"Idle money always yells at me to put it back into circulation," said
+Wallingford, looking about the desk. "Where are your note blanks?"
+
+"Er--right here," replied Mr. Bubble, drawing the pad from a drawer.
+"By the way, Wallingford, of course we'll have to arrange the little
+matter of securities, and perhaps I'd better see the directors about a
+loan of this size."
+
+"Oh, certainly," agreed Wallingford. "As for security, I'll just turn
+over to you my bank stock and a holding on the Etruscan property."
+
+For one fleeting instant it flashed across Mr. Bubble's mind that he
+had sold this very property to Wallingford for the sum of one thousand
+dollars; but a small patch of stony ground which had been worth
+absolutely nothing before the finding of gold in it had been known to
+become worth a million in a day, as Wallingford had once observed when
+looking across the great swamp, and now the mine he had sold to
+Wallingford for a song was worth almost any sum that might be named.
+Hen Moozer, when consulted, was of that opinion; Jim Ranger was of
+that opinion; Bud Hegler was of that opinion; the other directors were
+of that opinion; every one in Blakeville was of that opinion; so
+Wallingford got his forty-five thousand dollars, and the Bubble Bank
+held in return a mortgage on Wallingford's bank stock, and on forty
+acres of genuine Etruscan black mud.
+
+"By the way, Mr. Bubble," said Wallingford, tucking the bills of
+exchange into his pocket, "I'm going to take a little run into New
+York to-day. Would you mind putting the plans for my new house into
+the hands of the two contractors here for them to figure on?"
+
+"With pleasure. Hope you have a good trip, my boy."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Well, it was all over, but he was not quite so well satisfied as
+he had been over the consummation of certain other dubious deals.
+Heretofore he had hugely enjoyed the matching of his sharp wits
+against duller ones, had been contemptuous of the people he
+out-manoeuvered, had chuckled in huge content over his triumphs; but
+in this case there was an obstacle to his perfect enjoyment, and that
+obstacle was Fannie Bubble. He was rather impatient about it.
+
+He started early for the train, instructing Bob Ranger to be there to
+drive back the bays, and drove around by way of Jonas Bubble's house.
+As he was about to hitch his horses the door opened, and Fannie,
+dressed for the afternoon, but hatless, came flying out, her head bent
+and her hands back over it. She was crying, and was closely pursued by
+Mrs. Bubble, who brandished a feather duster, held by the feather end.
+Wallingford ran to open the gate as Fannie approached it, closing it
+and latching it in time to stop her stepmother.
+
+"What's the matter?" he asked.
+
+"She's a lazy, good-for-nothing, frivolous huzzy!" declared Mrs.
+Bubble in hot wrath.
+
+"I've been looking for just that kind," asserted Wallingford. "She'll
+do for me. Fannie, get into the buggy. I came down to take you for a
+ride to the depot."
+
+"If she goes away from this house she don't come back till she gets
+down on her knees and begs my forgiveness!" shrieked the woman.
+
+"If she does that I'll have her sent to a bugitorium," declared
+Wallingford. "She don't need to come back here. I'll take care of her
+myself. You'll go with me, won't you, Fannie?"
+
+"Anywhere," she said brokenly.
+
+"Then come on."
+
+Turning, he helped her into the buggy and they drove away, followed
+by the invectives of Mrs. Bubble. The girl was in a tumult of emotion,
+her whole little world clattering down about her ears. Bit by bit her
+story came out. It was sordid enough and trivial enough, but to her it
+was very real. That afternoon she had planned to go to the country for
+ferns with a few girls, and they were to meet at the house of one of
+her friends at one o'clock. Her stepmother had known about it three
+days in advance, and had given her consent. When the time came,
+however, she had suddenly insisted that Fannie stop to wash the
+dishes, which would have made her a half-hour late. There followed
+protest, argument, flat order and as flat refusal--then the handle of
+the feather duster. It was not an unusual occurrence for her
+stepmother to slap her, Fannie admitted in her bitterness. Her father,
+pompous enough outside, was as wax in the hands of his termagant
+second wife, and, though his sympathies were secretly with the girl,
+he never dared protect her.
+
+They had driven straight out the west road in the excitement, but
+Wallingford, remembering in time his train schedule, made the
+straightest _detour_ possible to the depot. He had barely time to buy
+his tickets when the train came in, and he hurried Fannie into the
+parlor car, her head still in a whirl and her confusion heightened by
+the sudden appreciation of the fact that she had no hat. The stop at
+Blakeville was but a brief one, and as the train moved away Fannie
+looked out of the window and saw upon the platform of the little
+depot, as if these people were a part of another world entirely, the
+station agent, the old driver of the dilapidated 'bus, Bob Ranger and
+others equally a part of her past life, all looking at her in
+open-mouthed astonishment. Turning, as the last familiar outpost of
+the town slipped by, she timidly reached out her hand and laid it in
+that of Wallingford.
+
+The touch of that warm hand laid on his electrified Wallingford. Many
+women had loved him, or thought they did, and he had held them in more
+or less contempt for it. He had regarded them as an amusement, as toys
+to be picked up and discarded at will; but this, somehow, was
+different. A sudden and startling resolve came to him, an idea so
+novel that he smiled over it musingly for some little time before he
+mentioned it.
+
+"By George!" he exclaimed by and by; "I'm going to marry you!"
+
+"Indeed!" she exclaimed in mock surprise, and laughed happily. "The
+way you said it sounded so funny."
+
+She was perfectly content.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+ WALLINGFORD GIVES HIMSELF STILL ANOTHER
+ STUPENDOUS SURPRISE
+
+
+Mrs. Wallingford, gowned and hatted and jeweled as Fannie Bubble had
+never been, and had never expected to be, tried the luxurious life
+that J. Rufus affected and found that she liked it. She was happy from
+day's end to day's end. Her husband was the most wonderful man in the
+world, flawless, perfect. Immediately upon their arrival in the city
+he had driven in hot haste for a license, and they were married before
+they left the court-house. Then he had wired the news to Jonas Bubble.
+
+"We start on our honeymoon at once," he had added, and named their
+hotel.
+
+By the time they had been shown to the expensive suite which
+Wallingford had engaged, a reply of earnest congratulation had come
+back from Jonas Bubble. The next day had begun the delights of
+shopping, of automobile rides, of the races, the roof gardens, the
+endless round of cafes. This world was so different, so much brighter
+and better, so much more pleasant in every way than the world of
+Blakeville, that she never cared to go back there--she was ashamed to
+confess it to herself--even to see her father!
+
+Blackie Daw, still keeping out of the way of federal officers who knew
+exactly where to find him, met J. Rufus on the street a week after his
+arrival, and, learning from him of his marriage to Fannie, came around
+to Wallingford's hotel to "look her over." Fannie marveled at Signor
+Matteo's rapid advance in English, especially his quick mastery of the
+vernacular, but she found him very amusing.
+
+"You win," declared Blackie with emphasis, when he and Wallingford had
+retired to a cozy little corner in the bar cafe. Fannie had inspired
+in him the awed respect that men of his stamp always render to good
+women. "You certainly got the original prize package. You and I are
+awful skunks, Jim."
+
+"She makes me feel that way, too, now and then," admitted Wallingford.
+"I'd be ashamed of myself for marrying her if I hadn't taken her from
+such a dog's life."
+
+"She seems to enjoy this one," said Blackie. "You're spending as much
+money on her as you used to on Beauty Phillips."
+
+"Just about," agreed Wallingford. "However, papa-in-law is paying for
+the honeymoon."
+
+"Does he know it?" asked Blackie.
+
+Wallingford chuckled.
+
+"Not yet," he admitted. "I'd like to see him when he finds it out."
+
+Blackie also grinned.
+
+"That little Blakeville episode was the happiest period of my life,"
+he declared. "By the way, J. Rufus, what was your game down there? I
+never understood."
+
+"As simple as a night-shirt," explained Wallingford. "I merely hunted
+through the postal guide for the richest little town I could find that
+had no bank. Then I went there and had one started so I could borrow
+its money."
+
+Blackie nodded comprehendingly.
+
+"Then you bought a piece of property and raised it to a fictitious
+value to cover the loan," he added. "Great stunt; but it seems to me
+they can get you for it. If they catch you up in one lie they can
+prove the whole thing to have been a frame-up. Suppose they find
+out?"
+
+Wallingford swelled up with righteous indignation.
+
+"Vittoreo Matteo," he charged, "you are a rascally scoundrel! I met
+you in New York and you imposed upon me with a miserable pack of lies.
+I have investigated and I find that there is no Etrusca, near Milan,
+Italy, no Etruscan black pottery, no Vittoreo Matteo. You induced me
+to waste a lot of money in locating and developing a black mud-swamp.
+When you had gained my full confidence you came to me in Blakeville
+with a cock-and-bull story that your mother was dying in Genoa, and on
+the strength of that borrowed a large sum of money from me. You are
+gone--I don't know where. I shall have to make a clean breast of this
+matter to Jonas Bubble, and tell him that if I can not pay that note
+when it falls due he will have to foreclose. You heartless villain!
+Waiter, ice us another bottle of that ninety-three."
+
+When Wallingford returned to his wife he found her very thoughtful.
+
+"When are we going to Blakeville, Jim?" she asked.
+
+He studied her curiously for a moment. She would have to know him some
+time or other. He had hoped to put it off while they were leading this
+unruffled existence, but now that the test had come he might as well
+have it over with.
+
+"I'm not going back," he declared. "I'm through with Blakeville.
+Aren't you?"
+
+"Yes," she admitted, pondering it slowly. "I could be happy here
+always, or, if not here, wherever you are. But your business back
+there, Jim?"
+
+He chuckled.
+
+"I have no business there," he told her. "My business is concluded. I
+borrowed forty-five thousand dollars on that forty acres of sticky
+mud, and I think I'll just let the bank foreclose."
+
+She looked at him a moment, dry-eyed and dry-lipped.
+
+"You're joking," she protested, in a low voice.
+
+"Not at all," he seriously assured her.
+
+They looked at each other steadily for some moments, and gradually
+Wallingford saw beneath those eyes a spirit that he might conquer,
+but, having conquered, would always regret.
+
+"It's--it's a swindle!" she gasped, as the true situation began to
+dawn upon her. "You don't mean, Jim, that you are a swindler!"
+
+"No, I wouldn't call it that," he objected, considering the matter
+carefully. "It is only rather a shrewd deal in the game of business.
+The law can't touch me for it unless they should chase down Vittoreo
+Matteo and find him to be a fraud, _and prove that I knew it_!"
+
+She was thoughtful a long time, following the intricate pattern of the
+rug in their sitting-room with the toe of her neatly-shod foot. She
+was perfectly calm, and he drew a sharp breath of relief. He had
+expected a scene when this revelation should come; he was more than
+pleased to find that she was not of the class which makes scenes.
+Presently she looked up.
+
+"Have you thought of what light this puts me in at home? Have you
+thought how I should be regarded in the only world I have ever known?
+Why, there are a thousand people back in Blakeville who know me, and
+even if I were never to meet one of them again--Jim, it mustn't be!
+You must not destroy my self-respect for ever. Have you spent any of
+that money?"
+
+"Well, no," he reluctantly replied. "I have plenty of money besides
+that."
+
+"Good!" said she with a gasp of relief. "Write father that, as you
+will be unable to carry out your projects, you are sending him the
+money to take up that note."
+
+Wallingford was silent a long time. Wonderful the influence this girl
+had over him. He was amazed at himself.
+
+"I can't remember when I ever gave up any money," he finally said,
+with an attempt at lightness; "but, Fannie, I think I'll do it just
+this once--for you--as a wedding present."
+
+"You'll do it right away, won't you?"
+
+"Right this minute."
+
+He walked over and stooped down to kiss her. She held up her lips
+submissively, but they were cold, and there was no answering pressure
+in them. Silently he took his hat and started down-stairs.
+
+"By the way," he said, turning at the door, "I'm going to make your
+father a present of that bay team."
+
+He scarcely understood himself as he dictated to the public
+stenographer a letter to Jonas Bubble, so far different from the one
+he had planned to write. It was not like him to do this utterly
+foolish thing, and yet, somehow, he felt that he could not do
+otherwise. When he came back up-stairs again, the letter written and a
+check inclosed in it and the whole mailed, he found her in the same
+chair, but now she was crying. He approached her hesitantly and stood
+looking down at her for a long, long time. It was, perhaps, but one
+minute, but it seemed much longer. Now was the supreme test, the
+moment that should influence all their future lives, and he dreaded to
+dissolve that uncertainty.
+
+He knelt beside her and put his arm about her. Still crying, she
+turned to him, threw both arms around his neck and buried her head on
+his shoulder--and as she cried she pressed him more tightly to her!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+ CASTING ABOUT FOR A STRAIGHT BUSINESS, PATENT
+ MEDICINE PROVIDES THE ANSWER
+
+
+That was a glorious honeymoon! They traveled from one gay summer
+resort to another, and when Fannie expressed the first hint of
+fatigue, Wallingford, who had grown to worship her, promptly provided
+her with complete and unique rest, by taking her to some one of the
+smaller inland cities of the type which he loved, installing her in a
+comfortable hotel, and living, for a week or so, a quiet, lazy
+existence consisting largely of mere eating and sleeping, and just
+enough exercise to keep in good health. In all this time there was not
+one jarring thought, one troubled moment, nor one hint of a shadow. J.
+Rufus took his wife into all sorts of unique experiences, full of life
+and color and novelty, having a huge pride in her constant wonder and
+surprise.
+
+It happened, while upon one of these resting sojourns, that they one
+night paused on the edge of a crowd which stood gaping at a patent
+medicine faker. Suddenly recognizing an old acquaintance in the
+picturesque orator with the sombrero and the shoulder-length gray
+hair, Wallingford drew closer.
+
+Standing behind the "doctor," upon the seat of his carriage where the
+yellow light of a gasolene torch flared full upon it, was a gaudy,
+life-size anatomical chart, and with this as bait for his moths he was
+extolling the virtues of Quagg's Peerless Sciatacata.
+
+"Here, my friends," he declared, unfolding one of the many hinged
+flaps of the gory chart, "you _bee_-hold the intimate relation of
+the stomach with all the _inn_-ternal organs, and above all with
+the blood, which, pumped by the heart through these _abb_-sorbing
+membranes, takes up that priceless tonic, Doctor Quagg's Peerless
+Sciatacata. This, acting _dii_-rectly upon the red corpuscles of
+the vital fluid, _stimm_-ulates the circulation and carries its
+germ-destroying properties to every atom of the human frame,
+casting off _imm_-purities, _clean_-sing the syst-_em_, bringing
+_ee_-lasticity to the footsteps, hope to the heart, the ruddy glow
+of bounding health to pale cheeks, and the sparkle of new life to
+tired and jaded eyes!"
+
+Wallingford turned to his wife with a chuckle,
+
+"Just stand here a minute, Fannie," said he. "I must wade in and speak
+to the old scout. We stopped a week at the same hotel over in New
+Jersey and got as chummy as two cell-mates."
+
+Fannie smiled doubtfully in response, and watched her husband with a
+slight trace of concern as he forced his way through the crowd and up
+to the wheel of the carriage.
+
+"How are you, Doctor?" said he, holding up his plump palm. "Where are
+you stopping?"
+
+The doctor's wink at J. Rufus was scarcely perceptible to that large
+young gentleman himself, much less to the bystanders, as with
+professional gravity he reached down for a hearty handshake.
+
+"Benson House. Come around and see me to-morrow morning." Then, with
+added gravity and in a louder voice: "I scarcely knew you, friend, you
+are so changed. How many bottles of the Sciatacata was it you took?"
+
+"Four," replied J. Rufus clearly, with not even a twinkle in his eye.
+
+"Only four bottles," declaimed Doctor Quagg. "My friends, this is one
+of my most marvelous cures. When I met this gentleman in Columbus,
+Ohio, he was a living skeleton, having suffered for years from
+sciatic rheumatism. He bought from me one night at my carriage, just
+as he is standing now, six bottles of the Peerless Sciatacata. He took
+but four bottles, and look at him to-day!"
+
+With one accord they looked. There was some slight tittering among
+them at first, but the dignity and gravity with which the towering J.
+Rufus, hale and hearty and in the pink of condition, withstood that
+inspection, checked all inclination to levity. Moreover, he was
+entirely too prosperous-looking to be a "capper."
+
+"I owe you my life, Doctor," said Wallingford gratefully. "I never
+travel without those other two bottles of the Sciatacata," and with
+the air of a debt of honor paid, he pressed back through the crowd to
+the sidewalk.
+
+His wife was laughing, yet confused.
+
+"I don't see how you can make yourself so conspicuous," she protested
+in a low voice.
+
+"Why not?" he laughed. "We public characters must boost one another."
+
+"And the price," they heard the doctor declaiming, "is only one dollar
+_per_ bottle, or six for five dollars, guar-_an_-teed not only to
+drive sciatic rheumatism from the sys-_tem_, but to cure the most
+ob-_stin_-ate cases of ague, Bright's disease, cat-a-lepsy, coughs,
+colds, cholera, _dys_-pepsia, ery-_sip_-_e_-las, fever _and_ chills,
+_gas_-tritis"--
+
+"And so on down to X Y Z, etc.," commented Wallingford as they walked
+away.
+
+His wife looked up at him curiously.
+
+"Jim, did you honestly take four bottles of that medicine?" she wanted
+to know.
+
+"Take it?" he repeated in amazement. "Certainly not! It isn't meant
+for wise people to take. It wouldn't do them any good."
+
+"It wouldn't do anybody any good," she decided with a trace of
+contempt.
+
+"Guess again," he advised her. "That dope has cured a million people
+that had nothing the matter with 'em."
+
+At the Hotel Deriche in the adjoining block they turned into the huge,
+garishly decorated dining-room for their after-theater supper. They
+had been in the town only two days, but the head waiter already knew
+to come eagerly to meet them, to show them to the best table in the
+room, and to assign them the best waiter; also the head waiter himself
+remained to take the order, to suggest a delicate, new dish and to
+name over, at Wallingford's solicitation, the choice wines in the
+cellar that were not upon the wine-list.
+
+This little formality over, Wallingford looked about him complacently.
+A pale gentleman with a jet-black beard bowed to him from across the
+room.
+
+"Doctor Lazzier," observed Wallingford to his wife. "Most agreeable
+chap and has plenty of money."
+
+He bent aside a little to see past his wife's hat, and exchanged a
+suave salutation with a bald-headed young man who was with two ladies
+and who wore a dove-gray silk bow with his evening clothes.
+
+"Young Corbin," explained Wallingford, "of the Corbin and Paley
+department store. He had about two dollars a week spending money till
+his father died, and now he and young Paley are turning social
+flip-flaps at the rate of twenty a minute. He belongs to the Mark
+family and he's great pals with me. Looks good for him, don't it?"
+
+"Jim," she said in earnest reproval, "you mustn't talk that way."
+
+"Of course I'm only joking," he returned. "You know I promised you I'd
+stick to the straight and narrow. I'll keep my word. Nothing but
+straight business for me hereafter."
+
+He, too, was quite serious about it, and yet he smiled as he thought
+of young Corbin. Another man, of a party just being shown to a table,
+nodded to him, and Mrs. Wallingford looked up at her husband with
+admiration.
+
+"Honestly, how do you do it?" she inquired. "We have only been here a
+little over forty-eight hours, and yet you have already picked up a
+host of nice friends."
+
+"I patronize only the best saloons," he replied with a grin; then,
+more seriously: "This is a mighty rich little city, Fannie. I could
+organize a stock company here, within a week, for anything from a
+burglar's trust to a church consolidation."
+
+"It's a pretty place," she admitted. "I like it very much from what I
+have seen of it."
+
+He chuckled.
+
+"Looks like a spending town," he returned; "and where they spend a wad
+they're crazy to make one. Give me one of these inland society towns
+for the loose, long green. New York's no place to start an honest
+business," and again he chuckled. "By the way, Fannie," he added after
+a pause, "what do you think of my going into the patent medicine
+line?"
+
+"How do you mean?" she inquired, frowning.
+
+"Oh, on a big scale," he replied. "Advertise it big, manufacture it
+big."
+
+She studied it over in musing silence.
+
+"I don't mind what you do so long as it is honest," she finally said.
+
+"Good. I'll hunt up Quagg to-morrow and spring it on him."
+
+"You don't mean that dreadful quack medicine he's selling on the
+street, do you?" she protested.
+
+"Why not? I don't know that it's worthless, and I do know that Quagg
+has sold it on street corners for twenty years from coast to coast. He
+goes back to the same towns over and over, and people buy who always
+bought before. Looks like a good thing to me. Quagg was a regular
+doctor when he was a kid; had a real diploma and all that, but no
+practice and no patience. Joke. Giggle."
+
+The oysters came on now, and they talked of other things, but while
+they were upon the meat Doctor Lazzier, having finished, came across
+to shake hands with his friend of a day, and was graciously charmed to
+meet Mrs. Wallingford.
+
+"Sit down," invited J. Rufus. "Won't you try a glass of this? It's
+very fair," and he raised a practised eyebrow to the waiter.
+
+The doctor delicately pushed down the edge of the ice-wet napkin
+until he could see the label, and he gave an involuntary smile of
+satisfaction as he recognized the vintage. The head waiter had timed
+the exact second to take that bottle out of the ice-pail, had wrapped
+the wet napkin about it and almost reverently filled glasses.
+Occasionally he came over and felt up inside the hollow on the bottom
+of the bottle.
+
+"Delighted," confessed the doctor, and sat down quite comfortably.
+
+"You may smoke if you like, Doctor," offered Mrs. Wallingford,
+smiling. "I don't seem to feel that a man is comfortable unless he is
+smoking."
+
+"To tell the truth, he isn't," agreed the doctor with a laugh, and
+accepting a choice cigar from Wallingford he lit it.
+
+The waiter came with an extra glass and filled for all three of them.
+
+"By the way, Doctor," said Wallingford, watching the pouring of the
+wine with a host's anxiety, "I think of going into the patent medicine
+business on a large scale, and I believe I shall have to have you on
+the board of directors."
+
+"Couldn't think of it!" objected the doctor hastily. "You know,
+professional ethics--" and he shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"That's so," admitted Wallingford. "We can't have you on the board,
+but we can have you for a silent stock-holder."
+
+"Open to the same objection," declared the doctor, with another
+dubious shrug, as he took up his glass.
+
+He tasted the wine; he took another sip, then another--slow, careful
+sips, so that no drop of it should hasten by his palate unappreciated.
+Wallingford did not disturb him in that operation. He had a large
+appreciation himself of the good things of this world, and the proper
+way to do them homage.
+
+The doctor took a larger sip, and allowed the delicate liquid to flow
+gently over his tongue. Wallingford was really a splendid fellow!
+
+"What sort of patent medicine are you going to manufacture?" asked the
+doctor by way of courtesy, but still "listening" to the taste of the
+wine.
+
+Wallingford laughed.
+
+"I haven't just decided as yet," he announced. "The medicine is only
+an incident. What we're going to invest in is advertising."
+
+"I see," replied the doctor, laughing in turn.
+
+"Advertising is a great speculation," went on Wallingford, with a
+reminiscent smile. "Take Hawkins' Bitters, for instance; nine per
+cent. cheap whisky flavored with coffee and licorice, and the balance
+pure water. Hawkins had closed a fifty-thousand-dollar advertising
+contract before he was quite sure whether he was going to sell patent
+medicine or shoe polish. The first thing he decided on was the name,
+and he had to do that in a hurry to get his advertising placed.
+Hawkins' Bitters was familiar to ten million people before a bottle of
+it had been made. It was only last summer that Hawkins sold out his
+business for a cool two million and went to Europe."
+
+"His decoction is terrible stuff," commented the doctor, more in
+sorrow than in anger; "but it certainly has a remarkable sale."
+
+"I should say it has!" agreed Wallingford. "The drug-stores sell it to
+temperance people by the case, and in the dry states you'll find every
+back yard littered with empty Hawkins' Bitters bottles."
+
+A half-dozen entertaining stories of the kind Wallingford told
+his guest, and by the time he was through Doctor Lazzier began
+himself to have large visions of enormous profits to be made in the
+patent medicine business. Somehow, the very waistcoat of young J.
+Rufus seemed, in its breadth and gorgeousness, a guarantee of enormous
+profits, no matter what business he discussed. But the doctor's very
+last remark was upon the sacredness of medical ethics! When he was
+gone there was a conspicuous silence between Wallingford and his wife
+for a few minutes, and then she asked:
+
+"Jim, are you actually going to start a patent medicine company?"
+
+"Certainly I am," he replied.
+
+"And will Doctor Lazzier take stock in it?"
+
+"He certainly will," he assured her. "I figure him for from ten to
+twenty-five thousand."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+ IN WHICH WALLINGFORD ORGANIZES THE DOCTOR
+ QUAGG PEERLESS SCIATACATA COMPANY
+
+
+At the Benson House J. Rufus found Doctor Quagg with a leg propped up
+on a chair, and himself in a state of profound profanity.
+
+"What's the matter, Doc?" asked Wallingford.
+
+"Sciatic rheumatism!" howled the martyr. "It's gettin' worse every
+year. Every time I go on the street for a night I know I'm goin' to
+suffer. That's why I keep it up so late and spiel myself hoarse in the
+neck. I jumped into town just yesterday and got a reader from these
+city hall pirates. They charged me twenty-five iron men for my license
+for the week. I go out and make one pitch, and that's all I get for my
+twenty-five."
+
+"Sciatic rheumatism's a tough dose," commiserated Wallingford. "Why
+don't you take five or six bottles of the Peerless Sciatacata?"
+
+The answer to this was a storm of fervid expletives which needed no
+diagram. Wallingford, chuckling, sat down and gloated over the
+doctor's misery, lighting a big, fat cigar to gloat at better ease. He
+offered a cigar to Quagg.
+
+"I daresn't smoke," swore that invalid.
+
+"And I suppose you daresn't drink, either," observed Wallingford.
+"Well, that doesn't stop me, you know."
+
+Wearily the doctor indicated a push-button.
+
+"You'll have to ring for a boy yourself," said he.
+
+When the boy came Wallingford ordered a highball.
+
+"And what's yours, sir?" asked the boy, turning to the doctor.
+
+"Lithia, you bullet-headed nigger!" roared the doctor with a twinge of
+pain in his leg. "That's twice to-day I've had to tell you I can't
+drink anything but lithia. Get out!"
+
+The boy "got," grinning.
+
+"Seriously, though, old man," said Wallingford, judging that the
+doctor had been aggravated long enough, "your condition must be very
+bad for business, and I've come to make you a proposition to go into
+the manufacture of the Peerless on a large scale."
+
+The doctor sat in silence for a moment, shaking his head despondently.
+
+"You can't get spielers," he declared. "I've tried it. Once I made up
+a lot of the Sciatacata and sent out three men; picked the best I
+could find that had made good with street-corner pitches in other
+lines, and their sales weren't half what mine would be; moreover, they
+got drunk on the job, didn't pay for their goods, and were a nuisance
+any way you took 'em."
+
+Wallingford laughed.
+
+"I didn't mean that we should manufacture the priceless remedy for
+street fakers to handle," he explained. "I propose to start a big
+factory to supply drug-stores through the jobbing trade, to spend a
+hundred thousand dollars in advertising right off the bat, give you
+stock in the company for the use of your formula, and a big salary to
+superintend the manufacture. That will do away with your exposure to
+the night air, stop the increase of your sciatica, and make you more
+money. Why, Doc, just to begin with we'll give you ten thousand
+dollars' worth of stock."
+
+It took Doctor Quagg some time to recover from the shock of that much
+money.
+
+"I've heard of such things," said he gratefully, "but I never supposed
+it could happen to me."
+
+"You don't need to put up a cent," went on Wallingford. "And I don't
+need to put up a cent. We'll use other people's money."
+
+"Where are you going to get your share?" asked the doctor
+suspiciously. "Are you going to have a salary, too?"
+
+"No," said Wallingford. "We'll pay you thirty-five dollars to start
+with as superintendent of the manufacturing department, but I won't
+ask for a salary; I'll take a royalty of one cent a bottle as manager
+of the company. I'll take five thousand dollars' worth of stock for my
+services in promotion, and then for selling the stock I'll take
+twenty-five per cent. of the par value for all I place, but will take
+it out in stock at the market rate. We'll organize for half a million
+and begin selling stock at fifty cents on the dollar, and I'll
+guarantee to raise for us one hundred and twenty-five thousand net
+cash--twenty-five thousand for manufacturing and one hundred thousand
+for advertising."
+
+The doctor drew a long breath.
+
+"If you can do that you're a wonder," he declared; "but it don't seem
+to me you're taking enough for yourself. You're giving me ten
+thousand dollars and you're only taking five; you're giving me
+thirty-five dollars a week and you're only taking a cent a bottle. It
+seems to me the job of organizing and building up such a company is
+worth as much as the Sciatacata."
+
+"Don't you worry about me," protested J. Rufus modestly. "I'll get
+along all right. I'm satisfied. We'll organize the company to-day."
+
+"You can't get all that money together in a day!" exclaimed the doctor
+in amazement.
+
+"Oh, no; I don't expect to try it. I'll put up all the money
+necessary. We want five directors, and we have three of them now, you
+and my wife and I. Do you know anybody around the hotel that would
+serve?"
+
+The doctor snorted contemptuously.
+
+"Nobody that's got any money or responsibility," he asserted.
+
+"They don't need to have any money, and we don't want them to have any
+responsibility," protested Wallingford. "Anybody of voting age will do
+for us just now."
+
+"Well," said the doctor reflectively, "the night clerk's a pretty good
+fellow, and the head dining-room girl here has always been mighty
+nice to me. She's some relation to the proprietor and she's been here
+for five years."
+
+"Good," said Wallingford. "I'll telephone out for a lawyer."
+
+There was no telephone in the room, but down-stairs Wallingford found
+a pay 'phone and selected a lawyer at random from the telephone
+directory. Within two hours Wallingford and his wife, Doctor Quagg,
+Albert Blesser and Carrie Schwam had gravely applied for a charter of
+incorporation under the laws of the state, for The Doctor Quagg
+Peerless Sciatacata Company, with a capital stock of one thousand
+dollars, fully paid in. As he signed his name the doctor laughed like
+a school-boy.
+
+"Now," said he, "I'm going to get my hair cut."
+
+Wallingford stopped him in positive fright.
+
+"Don't you dare do it!" he protested.
+
+"Is that hair necessary to the business?" asked the doctor,
+crestfallen.
+
+"Absolutely," declared Wallingford. "Why, man, that back curtain of
+yours is ten per cent. dividends."
+
+"Then I'll wear it," agreed the doctor resignedly; "but I hate to. You
+know I've honed for years to quit this batting around the country,
+and just ached to wear short hair and a derby hat like a white man."
+
+Wallingford looked at the weather-bronzed face and shook his head.
+
+"What a pity that would be!" he declared. "However, Doc, your
+wanderings cease from this minute, and your salary begins from
+to-day."
+
+"Fine," breathed the doctor. "I say, Wallingford, then suppose you
+order me about three gross of bottles and some fresh labels. I'll get
+the drugs myself and start in making a supply of the Sciatacata."
+
+"You just nurse your leg," advised Wallingford. "Why, man, when we
+start manufacturing the Peerless it will be in vats holding a hundred
+gallons, and will be bottled by machinery that will fill, cork and
+label a hundred bottles a minute. You're to superintend mixing; that's
+your job."
+
+It took many days, days of irksome loafing for the doctor, before
+they had their final incorporation papers. Immediately they
+elected themselves as directors, made Quagg president, Wallingford
+secretary and Albert Blesser treasurer, and voted for an increase of
+capitalization to one-half million dollars. They gave Quagg his
+hundred shares and Wallingford his fifty; they voted Quagg his salary
+and Wallingford his royalty; also they voted Wallingford an honorarium
+of twenty-five per cent., payable in stock, for disposing of such
+of the treasury shares as they needed issued, and immediately
+Wallingford, who had spent the interim in cultivating acquaintances,
+began to secure investors.
+
+He sold more than mere stock, however. He sold Doctor Quagg's hair and
+sombrero; he sold glowing word pictures of immense profits, and he
+sold the success of all other patent medicine companies; he sold
+his own imposing height and broad chest, his own jovial smile and
+twinkling eye, his own prosperous grooming and good feeding--and those
+who bought felt themselves blessed.
+
+First of all, he sold fifty thousand dollars' worth for twenty-five
+thousand to young Corbin, whereupon Mr. Blesser, as per instructions,
+resigned from the treasurership and directorate in favor of Mr.
+Corbin. Wallingford got fifteen thousand dollars from Doctor
+Lazzier, and ten from young Paley, and with fifty thousand dollars
+in the treasury sent for an advertising man and gave out a
+hundred-thousand-dollar contract.
+
+"For the first half of this campaign," he explained to the advertising
+man, "I want this one ad spread everywhere: 'Laugh at That Woozy
+Feeling.' This is to cover the top half of the space in good, plain,
+bold letters. In place of leaving the bottom blank for kids to
+scribble reasons of their own why you should laugh at that woozy
+feeling, we'll put gray shadow-figures there--grandpa and grandma and
+pa and ma and Albert and Henry and Susan and Grace and little Willie,
+all laughing fit to kill. And say, have it a real laugh. Have it the
+sort of a laugh that'll make anybody that looks at it want to be
+happy. Of course, later, I want you to cover up the bottom half of
+that advertisement with: 'Use Doctor Quagg's Peerless Sciatacata,' or
+something like that, but I'll furnish you the copy for that when the
+time comes. It will be printed right over the laughing faces."
+
+"It should make a very good ad," commented the agent with enthusiasm,
+writing out the instructions Wallingford gave him, and willing to
+approve of anything for that size contract.
+
+Wallingford went home to his wife, filled with a virtuous glow.
+
+"You know, there's something I like about this straight business,
+Fannie," said he. "It gives a fellow a sort of clean feeling. I'm
+going to build up a million-dollar business and make everybody
+concerned in it rich, including myself. Already I've placed one
+hundred thousand dollars' worth of stock, have fifty thousand dollars
+cash in the treasury, and fifty-five thousand dollars' worth of stock
+for myself."
+
+She looked puzzled.
+
+"I thought you were to get only twenty-five per cent. for selling the
+stock."
+
+He chuckled; shoulders, chest and throat, eyes and lips and chin, he
+chuckled.
+
+"Twenty-five per cent. of the par value," said he, "payable in stock
+at the market price."
+
+"I don't see the difference," she protested. "I'm sure I thought it
+was to be straight twenty-five per cent., and I'm sure all the members
+of the company thought so."
+
+He patiently explained it to her.
+
+"Don't you see, if I sell one hundred thousand dollars' worth of
+stock, I get the same as twenty-five thousand dollars for it, and with
+that buy fifty thousand dollars' worth of stock? Of course I get it at
+the same price as others--fifty per cent."
+
+"Did they understand you'd get fifty thousand instead of twenty-five
+thousand?" she asked.
+
+He chuckled again.
+
+"If they didn't they will," he admitted.
+
+She pondered over that thoughtfully for a while.
+
+"Is that straight business?" she inquired.
+
+"Of course it's straight business or I wouldn't be doing it. It is
+perfectly legitimate. You just don't understand."
+
+"No," she confessed, "I guess I don't; only I thought it was just
+twenty-five per cent."
+
+"It is twenty-five per cent.," he insisted, and then he gave it up.
+"You'd better quit thinking," he advised. "It'll put wrinkles in your
+brow, and I'm the one that has the wrinkles scheduled. I've just
+contracted for one hundred thousand dollars' worth of advertising, and
+I've got to go out to sell enough stock to bring in the cash. Also,
+I've rented a factory, and to-morrow I'm going to let out contracts
+for bottling machinery, vats and fixtures. I've already ordered the
+office furniture. You ought to see it. It's swell. I'm having some
+lithographed stationery made, too, embossed in four colors, with a
+picture of Doctor Quagg in the corner."
+
+"How much stock has the doctor?" she asked.
+
+"Ten thousand."
+
+"Is that all he's going to have?" she wanted to know.
+
+"Why, certainly, that's all he's going to have. I made the bargain
+with him and he's satisfied."
+
+"Ten thousand dollars' worth out of a half-million-dollar corporation?
+Why, Jim, for his medicine, upon which the whole business is built, he
+only gets--how much is that of all of it?"
+
+"One fiftieth, or two per cent.," he told her.
+
+"Two per cent.!" she gasped. "Is that straight business, Jim?"
+
+"Of course it's straight business," he assured her. "Of course," and
+he smiled, "Doc didn't stop to figure that he only gets two per cent.
+of the profits of the concern. He figures that he's to draw dividends
+on the large hunk of ten thousand dollars' worth of stock, and he's
+satisfied. Why aren't you?"
+
+"I don't know," she replied slowly, still with the vague feeling that
+something was wrong. "Really, Jim, it don't seem to me that straight
+business is any more fair than crooked business."
+
+Wallingford was hugely disappointed.
+
+"And that's all the appreciation I get for confining myself to the
+straight and narrow!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Oh, I didn't mean that, Jim," she said, with instant contrition. "You
+don't know how glad I am that now, since we're married, you have
+settled down to honorable things; and you'll make a fortune, I know
+you will."
+
+"You bet I will," he agreed. "In the meantime I have to go out and dig
+up seventy-five thousand dollars more of other people's money to put
+into this concern; _which will give me another seventy-five thousand
+dollars' worth of stock_! Straight business pays, Fannie!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+ DOCTOR QUAGG PROVES THAT STRAIGHT BUSINESS IS A
+ DELUSION AND A SNARE
+
+
+Within a short time Wallingford had the satisfaction of seeing
+bill-boards covered with his big sign ordering the public to "Laugh at
+That Woozy Feeling," but not yet telling them how to do it, and he
+heard people idly wondering what the answer to that advertisement was
+going to be. Some of them resented having puzzles of the sort thrust
+in front of their eyes, others welcomed it as a cheerful diversion.
+Wallingford smiled at both sorts. He knew they would remember, and
+firmly link together the mystery and the solution. Cards bearing the
+same mandate stared down at every street-car rider, and newspaper
+readers found it impossible to evade the same command. All this
+advertising, for the appearance of which Wallingford had waited,
+helped him to sell the stock to pay for itself, and, in the meantime,
+he was busy putting into his new factory a bottling plant, second in
+its facility if not its capacity, to none in the country. He installed
+magnificent offices and for the doctor prepared an impressive private
+apartment, this latter being a cross between an alchemist's laboratory
+and a fortune-teller's oriental _salon_; but alas and alack! the
+first day the doctor walked into his new office he had his hair
+close-cropped and wore a derby, with such monstrous effect that even
+Wallingford, inured as he was to most surprises, recoiled in horror!
+
+From that moment the doctor became a hard one to manage. His first
+protest was against the Benson House, the old-fashioned, moderate-rate
+hotel which he had always patronized and had always recommended
+wherever he went. Thereafter he changed boarding-houses and family
+hotels about every two weeks; but he never had his hair cut after the
+once. The big mixing vats that Wallingford installed he grew to hate.
+He was used to mixing his Sciatacata in a hotel water-pitcher and
+filling it into bottles with a tin funnel; and to mix up a hundred
+gallons at a time of that precious compound seemed a cold, commercial
+proposition which was so much a sacrilege that he went out and
+"painted the town," winding up in a fight with a cigar-store Indian.
+He left such a train of fireworks in his wake that Wallingford heard
+of it for weeks afterward.
+
+To J. Rufus the affair was a good joke, but to the other gentlemen of
+the company, Corbin, Paley and Doctor Lazzier and the others who had
+social reputations to maintain as well as business interests to guard,
+the affair was tragic, not merely because one of their number had
+become intoxicated, but that it should be this particular one, and
+that he should make himself so conspicuous! The doctor repeated his
+escapade within a week. This time he took a notion to "circulate" in a
+cab, and as he got more mellow, insisted upon sitting up with the
+driver, where he whooped sonorously every time they turned a corner.
+This time he finished in the hands of the police, and Wallingford was
+called upon at three o'clock in the morning to bail him out. Friends
+of Corbin and Paley and the other exclusives whom Wallingford had
+selected as his stock-holders began to drop in on them with pleasant
+little remarks about their business associate. The doctor had been
+bragging widely about his connection with them!
+
+His crowning effort came when he continued his celebration of one
+night through the next day, and drove around to make a few party
+calls. He appeared like a specter of disgrace in Corbin's private
+office with:
+
+"Hello, old pal, come out and have a drink!" and gave Corbin a hearty
+slap on the back.
+
+Corbin gave a helpless glance across at the three prim young ladies on
+the other side of his open screen. Back of him a solemn-visaged old
+bookkeeper, who was both a deacon and Sunday-school superintendent,
+looked on in shocked amazement.
+
+"Couldn't begin to think of it, Doctor," protested Corbin nervously,
+pulling at his lavender cravat, while the perspiration broke out upon
+his bald spot. "I must attend to business, you know."
+
+"Never mind the business!" insisted the doctor. "Wait till our
+Sciatacata factory is shipping in car-loads, partner, and you can
+afford to give this junk-shop away."
+
+Paley, happening in to speak to Corbin, created a diversion welcome to
+Corbin but unwelcome to himself, for the doctor immediately pounced
+upon Paley and insisted upon taking him out to get a drink, and the
+only way that narrow-framed young man could get rid of him was to
+go along. He rode around in the cab with him for a while, and tried
+to dissuade him from calling upon Doctor Lazzier and the other
+stock-holders, but Quagg was obdurate. To wind up the evening's
+performance he appeared on a prominent street corner about nine
+o'clock, in a carriage with the gasolene torch and the life-size
+anatomical chart, and began selling the Peerless Sciatacata, calling
+upon the names of Wallingford, Lazzier, Corbin and Paley--his
+"partners"--as guarantees of his sincerity and standing, and as
+sureties of the excellence of the priceless compound.
+
+Wallingford heard about him quickly, for the picturesque Quagg had
+become a public joy and all the down-town crowd knew well about him.
+Wallingford went down to the corner with the intention of putting a
+stop to the exhibition, but, as he looked at the doctor, whose hair
+now dropped beneath his sombrero to nearly its old-time length, a new
+thought struck him and he went quietly away. The next day Corbin
+withdrew from the treasurership and Paley from the directorate, and
+every one of the directors who had taken the places of the original
+incorporators did likewise. Intimate relationship with the doctor was
+productive of too much publicity for peaceful enjoyment.
+
+It was just at this time that the agent of the advertising concern
+began to bother Wallingford for "copy" on the last half of his
+contract. Wallingford, to placate him, finished paying for the
+contract and took the cash discount, but held the agent off two or
+three days in the matter of the "copy." He was not quite satisfied
+about the wording of the advertisement. He sat up late one night
+devising the most concise and striking form in which to present the
+merits of Doctor Quagg's Peerless Sciatacata, and in the morning he
+went down to the office prepared to mail the result of his labor. He
+found upon his desk this note from the restless Doctor Quagg:
+
+     Spring's here. I never stayed in one place so long in my
+     life. You can have my salary and you can have my ten
+     thousand dollars' worth of stock. I don't want it. My
+     hair's out good and long again and I've gone back on the
+     road to sell the Sciatacata.
+
+                         Yours truly,
+                              QUAGG.
+
+It was the last straw, and the stock-holders' meeting which
+Wallingford hastily called wore the greenish pallor peculiar to
+landlubbers in their first sea storm.
+
+"We don't need Quagg," Wallingford protested. "Our contract with him
+covers any rights he has in the title of the medicine, and the mere
+fact that he is not with us does not need to prevent our going ahead."
+
+"Have you the formula for his preparation?" asked Doctor Lazzier
+quietly.
+
+"Oh, no," replied Wallingford carelessly. "I don't see that that need
+stop us."
+
+"Why not?" protested young Corbin. "Our whole business is built upon
+that formula."
+
+Wallingford smiled.
+
+"We simply must stick to the Sciatacata," resumed Wallingford. "We
+have all this fine stationery printed, with the full name of the
+Peerless dope; we have elaborate booklets and circulars about it, and
+the first delivery of ten thousand labels is here. There will be no
+trouble in getting up another Peerless Sciatacata which will at least
+be harmless, but I think that we can do even better than that. I think
+that Doctor Lazzier can furnish us a good, handy, cheap prescription
+for sciatic rheumatism."
+
+"Certainly not," protested Doctor Lazzier with vast professional
+indignation; but he nevertheless winked at Wallingford.
+
+"Never mind," said Wallingford to Corbin; "I'll get the formula all
+right."
+
+"For my part I'm willing to sell my stock at ten per cent.," said
+Corbin with infinite disgust. He was thinking at that very moment of a
+gaudy "function" he was to attend that night, one marking quite an
+advance in his social climb, and he almost dreaded to go. "I don't
+like to lose money, but, in this case, I'd really rather. This is a
+dreadful experience."
+
+The rest of them agreed with young Corbin in attitude, if not in
+words, and it was with considerable sadness that they dispersed, after
+having decided, somewhat reluctantly, that Wallingford should go ahead
+with the Sciatacata. Pursuing this plan Wallingford sent away the copy
+for the bottom half of the great woozy-feeling advertisement.
+
+The following afternoon, however, came the death-blow, in the shape of
+a most hilarious article in the local papers. In a neighboring city
+Doctor Quagg had gone out to sell the Peerless Sciatacata, had been
+caught in a drizzle of spring rain and had been sent, raving angry, to
+the hospital with a most severe case of sciatic rheumatism. The joke
+of it was too good. The local papers, as a mere kindly matter of news
+information, published a list of the stock-holders of the Doctor Quagg
+Peerless Sciatacata Company.
+
+Wallingford, with that item before him, sat and chuckled till the
+tears quivered on his eyelashes; but, even in the midst of his
+appreciation of the fun in the case, he wired to the agent of the
+advertising company to cancel his previous letter of instructions, and
+to secure him at least a week's grace before forfeiture of the
+contract; then he proceeded quietly to telephone the stock-holders. He
+found great difficulty in getting the use of his line, however, for
+the stock-holders were already calling him up, frantically, tearfully,
+broken-heartedly. They were all ruined through their connection with
+the Sciatacata!
+
+"I'll tell you, Fannie," said he at dinner, after pondering over a new
+thought which would keep obtruding itself into his mind, "this thing
+of training a straight business down to weight is no merry quip. It's
+more trouble and risk than my favorite game of promoting for revenue
+only."
+
+"You keep right on at it, Jim," she insisted. "You'll find there is
+ever so much more satisfaction in it in the end."
+
+He was moody all through dinner. They had tickets for the theater that
+night and they went, but here, too, Wallingford was distrait, and he
+could not have remembered one incident of the play until during the
+last act, when his brow suddenly cleared. When they went back to the
+hotel he led his wife into the dining-room, and, excusing himself for
+a moment, went to the telegraph desk and sent a telegram to Horace G.
+Daw, of Boston.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+ IN WHICH YOU ARE TOLD HOW TO LAUGH AT THAT
+ WOOZY FEELING
+
+
+Two days later Wallingford called a conclave of the stock-holders to
+meet one Hamilton G. Dorcas, of Boston, who had come to consider
+taking over the property of the Doctor Quagg Peerless Sciatacata
+Company. Quite hopefully Doctor Lazzier, young Corbin, young Paley and
+the others attended that meeting for the disposal of the concern which
+had already eaten up one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in
+good cash; but when they began talking with Mr. Dorcas they were not
+quite so extravagantly hopeful. Mr. H. G. Dorcas was a tall, thin,
+black-haired, black-eyed and black-mustached young man in ministerial
+clothing, who looked astonishingly like Horace G. Daw, if any one of
+them had previously known that young gentleman.
+
+"I have been through your factory," said Mr. Dorcas in a businesslike
+manner, "and all I find here of any value to me is your second-hand
+bottling machinery and vats and your second-hand office furniture. For
+those I am prepared to pay you a reasonable second-hand price; say,
+about fifteen thousand dollars."
+
+It was young Corbin who put up the loudest protest.
+
+"Why, man, such an offer is preposterous! Besides the twenty-five
+thousand invested in the machinery, fixtures and other expenses, we
+have spent exactly a hundred thousand dollars in advertising."
+
+Mr. Dorcas shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"What good will that do me?" he retorted. "It's wasted."
+
+Deep silence followed. The stock-holders knew that a hundred thousand
+had actually been paid out for advertising which, of course, was now
+of no value whatever. Only Wallingford knew that, the contract not
+being completed, part of it could be rebated, though only a small
+part, but he was not saying anything. Temptation had caught up with
+Wallingford, had wrestled with him and overthrown him!
+
+"Yes," admitted young Paley with a long, long sigh, "all that
+advertising money is wasted."
+
+Young Corbin was figuring.
+
+"Mr. Dorcas," said he, "if you will increase your offer by two
+thousand dollars I am inclined to accept it and get out of this muddle
+once and for all."
+
+Mr. Dorcas himself figured very carefully.
+
+"It is stretching a point with you," said he, "but I'll give it to
+you. Understand, though, that is the last cent."
+
+"I am not in favor of it," declared Wallingford, thereby putting
+himself upon the proper side for future reference. "It leaves us with
+a net cash loss of one hundred and eight thousand dollars. I'm in
+favor of rigging up some other patent medicine and going right ahead
+with the business. A slight assessment on our stock, or an agreement
+to purchase _pro rata_, among ourselves, a small amount of the
+treasury stock in order to raise about twenty-five thousand dollars
+more, will put us in shape to go ahead."
+
+If he intended to encourage them he had gone the wrong way about it.
+They recoiled as one man from that thought. Young Corbin jumped to his
+feet.
+
+"You may count me out," he declared.
+
+"Doctor Lazzier," pleaded Wallingford, "you are in favor of this
+course?"
+
+"By no means," said he. "A lot of my friends are 'on,' and some of my
+patients are laughing at me. I can't afford it. Take this man's offer.
+Wait just a minute." He rose to his feet. "I'll make that a formal
+motion," and he did so.
+
+With no dissenting voice, except Wallingford's, that motion was
+carried through, and Wallingford spread it upon the minute-books at
+once. Also a committee was appointed formally to close the business
+with Mr. Dorcas, and to transfer to that gentleman, at once, all the
+properties, rights and good-will of the company.
+
+"Gentlemen, I am very sorry," said Wallingford, much crestfallen in
+appearance. "I still protest against giving up, but I blame myself for
+coaxing you into this unfortunate affair."
+
+"Don't mention it," protested Doctor Lazzier, shaking hands. "You
+meant to do us a favor."
+
+They all agreed with the doctor, and young Corbin felt especially
+sorry for Wallingford's contrition.
+
+Immediately after the dispersal of the meeting Mr. Wallingford and
+"Mr. Dorcas" shook hands ecstatically.
+
+"Blackie, you're handier than a hollow cane in Drytown," exulted
+Wallingford. "Here's where I clean up. I own over one third of this
+stock. I have invested only one cheap thousand dollars over and above
+my expenses since I got here, and I'll get a third of this seventeen
+thousand right back again, so the company, up to date--and I own it
+all--stands me just a little less than what's left of my winnings on
+that noble little horse, Whipsaw. Just wait a minute till I send this
+off to the advertising company," and he wrote rapidly a lengthy
+telegram.
+
+After he sent away the telegram he remained at his desk a few moments,
+sketching on one of the proofs of a newspaper "ad" and filling in the
+lower part.
+
+"Here," said he to Blackie, "is the complete advertisement."
+
+Blackie picked up the proof sheet and glanced over it in evident
+approval. Taken altogether, it read:
+
+                         LAUGH AT
+                    THAT WOOZY FEELING
+                      DRINK GINGEREE!
+                 IT PUTS THE GINGER IN YOU
+              TEN CENTS AT ALL SODA FOUNTAINS
+
+"Within a week," exulted Wallingford, "everybody in the middle states
+will know all about Gingeree. Before that time I'll have Gingeree
+invented, and the Gingeree Company organized for half a million
+dollars. I'll put in the plant and the advertising at one hundred and
+fifty thousand, sell about twenty-five thousand dollars of treasury
+stock to start the business, then sell my hundred and fifty thousand
+and get out."
+
+"You'll have to go out of town to sell your stock," observed Blackie.
+
+"Out of town!" repeated Wallingford. "I should say not! With the good
+introduction I have here? Not any. I'll sell stock to Doctor Lazzier
+and young Corbin and young Paley and the rest of the bunch."
+
+Blackie looked at his friend in gasping awe.
+
+"Great guns!" he exploded. "J. Rufus, if you have nerve enough even to
+figure on that stunt, I believe you can pull it off!"
+
+The door of the office opened and Mrs. Wallingford came in.
+
+"Blackie Daw!" she exclaimed. "And so you are in town and mixed up in
+Jim's affairs! Jim Wallingford, now I know you are not conducting a
+straight business!"
+
+Blackie only grinned, but Mr. Wallingford was hurt.
+
+"You're mistaken, Fannie," said he. "You sit right down there, and
+I'll explain."
+
+He did so. When Wallingford rejoined her in their rooms that evening
+she had had time to think it all over. She had found no arguments to
+combat Wallingford's statement of the case. She could not find words
+to overturn his words, and yet there was a flaw some place that she
+could not put her finger upon. Knowing this, then, and condoning it,
+was she not a part sharer in his guilt? Yes, and no. For a solid hour
+she searched her heart and she could find but one satisfactory answer.
+No matter what he had done in the past or might do in the future, she
+knew that she loved him, and whatever path his feet might tread, she
+knew that she would walk along with him. She had thought at first that
+she might guide his footsteps into better ways, but now she feared!
+She knew, too, that in remaining with him she must take him as he was.
+
+And so, when he came to her, she was ready with her customary kiss, in
+which there was no lack of warmth; nor was there in her eyes any
+troubled look. He was delighted to find her in this mood.
+
+"I guess you've thought it all over, Fannie," said he, "and can see
+that at least this one business deal is a dead straight game, just as
+any good business man would play it."
+
+"Yes," she reluctantly admitted. "I am afraid that business, even
+straight business, is sometimes conducted along such lines."
+
+But down in her heart of hearts she knew better.
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise
+every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and
+intent.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG WALLINGFORD***
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