VALLINGFORD
GEORGE
RANDOLPH
CHESTER
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
Fannie
YOUNG
WALLINGFORD
B,
GEORGE RANDOLPH CHESTER
Author of
THE EARLY BIRD
THE MAKING OF BOBBY BURNIT
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
F. R. GRUGER tf HENRY RALEIGH
INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT iglO
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PRESS OF
BRAUNWORTH & CO-
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS
BROOKLYN, N. Y.
"5505
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PACK
I Wix BEGINS TO THINK I
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 . . . . in
XI A BRIEF CHARACTER BIT 126
XII WALUNGFORD Is FROZEN Our . . . .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
2226121-
YOUNG
WALLINGFORD
CHAPTER I
WHEREIN JONATHAN REUBEN WIX BEGINS TO THINK
A NATURAL again !" exulted Jonathan Reu-
ben 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."
I
2 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
He was back in less than three days, having spent
just twenty-four hours in New York. The impul-
sively 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 Oilman, who lived next door.
"Home so soon?" inquired Oilman in surpn
"They must have robbed you !"
"Robbed!" laughed Wix. "I should say not. 1
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; mat-
inee 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 Oilman was not one of those who had been
in the game by which Wix had won a hundred. He
never played dice, did young Oilman, nor poker, nor
bet on a horse race, nor drank, nor even smoked ;
WIX BEGINS TO THINK 3
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 Oilman 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 pea-
nuts ?"
"I'm listening," said Wix with sudden interest.
"Where did you get it, mister?"
4 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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
1 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 d,o win I keep on until
it amounts to something. Of course, I'm laying my-
self 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 Smal-
ley; 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 be-
WIX BEGINS TO THINK 5
ginning to curdle. You've worked in every mer-
cantile establishment, factory and professional of-
fice 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
Oilman 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 nar-
row forehead.
"Come in, Cliffy," she urged in a shrill, wheedling
6 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
voice. "You must have a good, long night's rest for
your trip in the morning." In reality she was wor-
ried to have her Clifford talking with the graceless
Wix— though secretly she admired Jonathan
Reuben.
"I must go in now," said Oilman 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 sep-
arate, 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 fem-
inine sympathy. Quite a little clique of dashing
young matrons, with old or dryly preoccupied hus-
bands, vied with the girls to make him happy.
WIX BEGINS TO THINK 7
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 instruc-
tor 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 Oilman, 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 gentle-
man 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
g YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 rub-
ber "pea" and had immediately closed over it. Not-
withstanding 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
iWix, 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. Gil-
man'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 ques-
WIX BEGINS TO THINK 9
tion," he shouted loudly, as Oilman prepared to
make his choice, "of whether your eye is quicker
than my hand."
Confidently Mr. Oilman 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. Oilman 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 dis-
played the pellet! There was another laugh. Not
one person in that crowd liad 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.
10
YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"How you've wasted your young life," com-
mented Wix as he led away his still dazed compan-
ion. "I thought everybody knew that trick by this
time, but I guess postmasters and bank clerks are al-
ways exempt."
"But how did he do it?" protested Oilman. "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 ringer. 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 Oilman.
"You're almost in full charge at the bank now,
WIX BEGINS TO THINK 11
aren't you?" observed Wix carelessly. "Smalley's
over at his new bank in Milton a good deal."
"About half the time," admitted Oilman 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." Oilman 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 Oilman had the money. There was some-
thing about young Wix's breadth of chest and pink-
ness 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 gratu-
ities: whereas Clifford Oilman, 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.
12
EASY MONEY 13
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 worship-
ful eyes. Here, indeed, was a comrade of whom to
be proud, and by whom to pattern!
They had swallowed their oysters and had fin-
ished 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," in-
vited 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.
u YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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."
EASY MONEY 15
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 emit-
ting 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
16 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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, com-
mercial 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
EASY MONEY 17
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 ; look-
ing lazily for chance to throw it his way, and read-
ing 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 busi-
ness with you at the Putnam County Fair."
"Yes, I — I — remember," admitted Gilman, thank-
ful 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
i8 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
would about suit you," said Mr. Daw, reaching
toward his inside coat pocket.
"Not here; not here!" Gilman nervously inter-
rupted him. "Somebody might come in at any min-
ute, 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 in-
tended 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.
EASY MONEY 19
What would Mr. Oilman 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 him-
self 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 incorpo-
rated 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
20 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
departure of the disgruntled third partner the others
had found gold! The two fortunate miners were,
however, carefully concealing their good luck, be-
cause they were making most strenuous endeavors
to raise enough money to buy in the outstanding
stock before the holders realized its value.
Mr. Oilman, 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 hap-
pened within the past week. Here was one of the
samples. Look at those flecks! Those were gold,
virgin gold!
Mr. Oilman 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
EASY MONEY 21
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. Im-
mediately 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 pur-
chased 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. Gil-
man 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. Smal-
ley 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.
22 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 trans-
action 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. Oilman. 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
EASY MONEY 23
stock in his, Mr. Daw's, own name, and would, in
the meantime, sign a binding agreement with Mr.
Oilman that their stock should be pooled — that nei-
ther 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. Gil-
man was the very man to benefit by the opportunity.
Mr. Oilman looked upon that glittering sample of
ore, that unimpeachable certified assay, those beauti-
fully 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. Oilman, 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.
24 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 side-
walk 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 de-
grees 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 enter-
prise, he stopped in front of the Wix gate to gloat.
"Hello, Oilman," said Wix, sauntering down.
"Out pretty late for a mere infant of twenty-four?"
"Little matter of business," protested Mr. Gil-
man pompously, glancing apprehensively at the sec-
ond-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.
25
26 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 incredu-
lously.
"Well, for a sure thing like this, if you must
know," said Gilman, gulping, but speaking with des-
perately businesslike decision, "I am sure Mr. Smal-
ley 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!"
YOUNG WIX TAKES A HAND 27
"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 in-
vestment 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 Oilman pondered this am-
biguous reply in silence, then out of his secret dis-
tress 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 move-
ment, the involuntary placing of his finger-tips be-
hind his e.ar ; 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
28 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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?"
YOUNG WIX TAKES A HAND 29
"Number one," and again the clerk grinned. No-
body 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 recog-
nized his visitor. Nevertheless, he thawed into
instant amiability.
"Glad to see you, old scout," he cried, and shak-
ing 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."
3o YOUNG WALLINGFORD
Mr. Daw gasped and batted his eyes, but swal-
lowed quickly and had it over with.
"You see," explained Wix, as they seated them-
selves 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 time-
table. 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 Oilman.
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 Oilman 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 offer-
ing Oilman 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.
YOUNG WIX TAKES A HAND 31'
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 ob-
served; "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 thou-
sand 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.
32 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"Possibly," admitted Wix, then suddenly he
chuckled so that his big shoulders heaved. 'To tell
you the truth," he stated, "I didn't know Oilman
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," acknowl-
edged 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.
YOUNG WIX TAKES A HAND 33
"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."
34 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 Oilman 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.
YOUNG WIX TAKES A HAND 35
"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 sooth-
ingly. "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
36 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 seven-
teen-fifty, don't you?"
"Yes," admitted Oilman.
"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
YOUNG WIX TAKES A HAND 37
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."
Oilman'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 Oilman's nervous-
ness; "but it must be where we can get all or any
part of it at a minute's notice."
Oilman 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 curi-
ous 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.
38
THE EASIEST WAY 39
Punctually every evening Wix handed to Oilman
his half of the profits on the trades closed that day,
and each week the profits became larger. Oilman
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 be-
ing 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.
40 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"I can't!" cried Oilman. "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 crea-
ture 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 ter-
ror. 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.
THE EASIEST WAY 41
"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-hun-
dred-dollar bills folded very flat.
That morning Wix faced the business anew with
six hundred dollars, and felt keenly his limited capi-
tal. His severe losses had been a good advertise-
ment, 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 Gil-
man. 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
42 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 out-
side the bank as long as I live."
"Your liver must be the color of a sick salmon,"
retorted Wix, but nevertheless he was himself dis-
illusioned. 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 noth-
ing, 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 seri-
ous 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.
THE EASIEST WAY 43
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" opera-
tions, 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 morn-
ing, "I want you to invest in The La Salle Grain and
Stock Brokerage Company."
"Not any," declared Sam. "You have two hun-
dred 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 com-
ing, I didn't wish any more."
"But suppose I'd offer you a chance to stand on1
the other side of the counter and take part of the
change?"
44 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 posi-
tion 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 thou-
sand dollars' worth of shares."
"Sam," he said, "I want you to invest'
THE EASIEST WAY 45
"I thought so," said Glidden with a grin. "Fix-
tures, established business and good will, I sup-
pose."
Wix chuckled.
"You put it in the loveliest words," he admitted.
"You're a bright young man," said Glidden ad-
miringly. "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 capitu-
lated. .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 busi-
ness, 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
46 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
was while he was engaged in this pleasant occupa-
tion that he went to Oilman with a blank certificate
for twenty-five shares.
"I think you said, Oilman, 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 Oilman. "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 Oilman'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!
THE EASIEST WAY 47
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 gam-
bling in any way, shape or form."
"No," agreed Wix, and carefully closed the door
of Smalley's private office. "Well, this isn't gam-
bling, 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 trans-
actions, including the one disastrous period for the
purpose of pointing out the flaw which had brought
it about.
Smalley inspected those figures long and ear-
nestly, while Wix sat back smiling. He had pene-
trated through that leathery exterior, had discov-
ered what no one else would have suspected: that
in Smalley himself there ran a long-leashed gam-
bling instinct.
"But I couldn't possibly have my name connected
with a matter of this sort," was Smalley's last cita-
del of objection.
48 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 sec-
retary. "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.
THE EASIEST WAY 49
With a smile all of careless pleasure with the
world, Wix wrote the name of Clifford M. Oilman,
and signed the certificate as president.
"Now, your check, Mr. Smalley, for twenty-five
hundred, and the new La Salle Company is com-
pletely 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 cor-
dially 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 Oilman 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."
Oilman 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 Gil-
man 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?"
5o YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"No, sir," replied Oilman, 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. Oilman, 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 as-
sociated for very obvious business reasons; so I
have taken the liberty of having the stock made out
in your name," and, before young Oilman's eyes,
he spread his twenty-five-share certificate of The
La Salle Grain and Stock Brokerage Company.
Oilman, 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. Smal-
ley. I — I abhor it. Never, as long as I live — "
Suddenly the fish-white face and staring eyes of
Oilman were not in the line of Mr. Smalley 's aston-
ished vision, for Oilman had slid to the floor, be-
THE EASIEST WAY 51
tween his high stool and his desk. Sam Glidden,
coming into the bank a moment after, found Smal-
ley 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 elab-
orate 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,
52
WIX DISAPPEARS FOR EVER 53
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 an-
noyed 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.
54 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"I can even let you have some if you want it," he
suggested.
"No, thank you. I have sufficient, I am sure, por-
tioned 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 hesita-
tion, "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 at-
tempt, and I have been anticipating it for some time.
After all, you really ought to have very little troy-
WIX DISAPPEARS FOR EVER 55
ble 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 kiss-
ing 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
56 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
street and he saw Smalley in it. He turned curi-
ously. What was Smalley doing there ? He stopped
until he saw the cab draw up in front of Oilman's
house. He saw Smalley assist young Oilman out of
the cab, and Oilman'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 ?"
WIX DISAPPEARS FOR EVER 57
"Oh, no," said Wix. "I only used it to get a little
more. Our friend Oilman 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 dol-
lars, 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 pres-
ent 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 remi-
niscence.
"I wasn't thinking of trying to annex any of that
coin," lied Mr. Daw glibly, and changing entirely
58 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 be-
long 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 Fil-
more 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
WIX DISAPPEARS FOR EVER 59
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 Com-
pany 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 resem-
blance 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
6o YOUNG WALLINGFORD
getting rid of my only handicap to think up a sub-
stitute. 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 mem-
ories. 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!"
61
62 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 Walling-
ford which was particularly aggravating to an ex-
pert 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 rap-
idly 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
A SAD DISAPPOINTMENT 63
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 ret-
rospective 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 junc-
ture, and further conversation was out of the ques-
tion. 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 po-
lice 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 thea-
ters, and, still dull, wound up in the apartments of
Daw and J. Rufus,
64 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 then>
selves? Can't they ever drink enough to get oiled
happy?"
"Not and do business with strangers on Broad-'
way," 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 pro-
tection cost him."
"If I wasn't waiting to see one of them bite him-
self 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 any-
thing?"
"Nothing but easy marks," replied Mr. Daw with
a grin. "The way they're treating you is a compli-
ment. They're letting you just be one of them."
A SAD DISAPPOINTMENT 65
"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 hu-
man 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 drink-
ers exchanged pleased smiles. It was too easy ! Mr.
Daw let them smile, and reposed calmly upon the
couch, entirely disinterested. Professional ethics for-
bade 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 per-
66 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
fectly 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, dis-
covered suddenly how late it was and stopped the
game. As he rose to go, young Wallingford, chuck-
ling, was adding a few additional bills to the ple-
thoric 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."
A SAD DISAPPOINTMENT 67
"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 cor-
diality 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 thirs.t is
too sudden,"
68 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
He was still most thoughtful when Mr. Phelps
knocked at the door, and had yet more food for con-
templation 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. Walling-
ford, 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 meth-
ods. They were so unsanctioned of law.
"Sorry for that," said Mr. Phelps, who was never-
theless 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
A SAD DISAPPOINTMENT 69
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 pro-
cession of them."
"No, but they're not so liberal as this boy," pro-
tested Phelps laughing. "He just naturally hones
and hones and hones to hand us this nice little bun-
dle 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 con-
descendingly. "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,
70 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"I know, but wait till you see the sample," he in-
sisted. "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," re-
turned Mr. Phelps airily, whereat Wallingford, de-
tecting that Mr. Phelps held his intelligence and
A SAD DISAPPOINTMENT 71
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 de-
manded.
"It's great Scotch!" said Mr. Phelps enthusiasti-
cally, 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 contempla-
tively 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 paus-
ing 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 appre-
ciably, 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 in-
72
A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET 73
troduced to Mr. Pickins as Mr. Mombley. Then,
leaning down to Mr. Pickins with another prodi-
gious 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 inter-
est 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. Pick-
ins admiringly.
"Yes, they'll take that for a perfectly good bill
74 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 Wall-
ingford, 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 com-
manded 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 reach-
ing 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,
A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET 75
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 fel-
lows as a tight-wad, swallowed hard, but he pro-
duced 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 re-
76 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
turned to the counterfeiting business, with the speci-
mens 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 exult-
antly declared. "We'll show him how easy it is to
live on soft money like this."
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
A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET 77
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 3
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 pack-
78 .YOUNG WALLINGFORD
age of greenbacks : ten crisp, nice-looking five-hun-
dred-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. Pick-
ins, losing his nasal drawl for the moment and
reaching for the bill, which he put back in the pack-
age, 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 hearti-
ness with which a greenhorn is supposed to be en-
couraged. "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 peni-
tentiary and we have to be careful. More than that,
wise people come back ; and, with a dozen or so like
A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET 79
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 cus-
tomers 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 com-
fortable again.
"That's me, by Jinks!" announced Pickins, slap-
ping 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 prob-
ably 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 Wall-
ingford. "Fine work, old man," he complimented,
8o YOUNG WALLINGFORD
keeping his suavity with no little effort. "We can
go right in and pick our bunch of posies any min-
ute."
"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 accommo-
dation. 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 mad-
dening 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 any-
thing 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;
A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET 81
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 em-
phasis 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?" Walling-
ford demanded.
Blackie grinned.
"They wanted to know why you wouldn't warm
up," he admitted.
"I see the pretty, pretty lights at last," Walling-
ford chuckled. "I was sure there was something
doing when Curly Harry came up here claiming a
82 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 disap-
pointed in them, Blackie. I had supposed that these
people of the metropolis had Herman the Great look-
ing 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."
A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET 83
"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 trim-
ming."
"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 gentle-
84 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
man from Georgia, lonesome like himself, with
whom he became firm friends in an hour, and it
was after midnight when, their friendship still fur-
ther fixed by plenty of liquid cement, he left the
Georgian at one of the broad, bright entrances in
charge of a doorman. It being but a few blocks
to his own hotel, he walked, carrying with compla-
cent 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 Com-
pany."
"Forget it," returned Harvey complacently.
"There's three squares a day in this and pickings.
Where are you stopping?"
A GREEN-GOODS PLAYLET 85
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 Walling-
ford."
"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, Har-
vey. 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 Walling-
ford.
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 ach-
ing void.
CHAPTER VIII
A THIRD ARM TO THE OLD-FASHIONED DOUBLE CROSS
HE fresh Hick!" observed Mr. Pickins sav-
agely. "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 Caounty 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
86
THE DOUBLE CROSS 87
deeply upon the matter of his art. "I don't know
how many thousands we've cleaned up on that out-
fit 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 in-
ventive gift.
S8 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 sus-
picion 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
THE DOUBLE CROSS 89
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 Poles 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 exposi-
tion 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
90 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 noth-
ing 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, hav-
ing a wide acquaintance, would secure.
Mr. Wallingford understood perfectly. He ap-
preciated 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
THE DOUBLE CROSS 91
crowd, including Mr. Pickins, to whom Mr. Teller
would kindly convey his, Mr. Wallingford's, re-
spects.
Accepting this commission with some inward re-
sentment 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 mysti-
fication 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 con-
vivial friend from Georgia and they went out to
spend another busy and pleasant afternoon and even-
92 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
ing, 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 fol-
lowing 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 greet-
THE DOUBLE CROSS 93
ing to Larry was the ordinary greeting of one man
who had seen the other within the hour; his greet-
ing to Mr. Wallingford was most cordial and ac-
companied by the merest shade of a wink. Mr.
Phelps, on the other hand, was most grim. While
not denying the semblance of courtesy one gentle-
man 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 denomina-
tion.
In the chair at the opposite side of the little table
Wallingford sat down with equal grimness, and
94 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
produced an equal amount of money in similar de-
nominations.
"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 los-
THE DOUBLE CROSS 95
ing 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 ap-
parition. "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 mo-
tion toward his hip pocket, and Mr. Phelps subsided
in his chair.
The others had posed themselves most dramat-
ically, 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 mo-
ment, and not only Mr. Badger and Mr. Teller and
Mr. Phelps looked annoyed, but the man with the
shining badge glanced apprehensively in that di-
96 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
rection, 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 business-
like 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 evi-
dence!" and he snatched the black bag from the
hand of the man with the badge.
Short-Card Larry, standing near what was ap-
parently a closet door, now took his cue and threw
it open, and, grabbing Wallingford by the arm, sud-
denly pulled him forward. "This is the real thing,"
he said in a hoarse whisper. "We've got to make
THE DOUBLE CROSS 97
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 stair-
way, 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. Walling-
ford smiled beatifically. The cause of all this sud-
den 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
98 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 fol-
lowed. They were not waiting for him, by any
means, but this time were genuinely interested in
getting away from the law, each man darkly sus-
picious 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
THE DOUBLE CROSS 99
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 shak-
ing hands, stopped with gaping jaws.
"What in Moses is that?" he asked.
"Merely a little contribution from your Broad-
way 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?"
ioo YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"Fine!" agreed Harvey. "Stay right here and
keep me busy at the price."
"Not me," said Wallingford warmly. "I only did
J 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 mus-tache, who
must have been near sixty, but who possessed, tem-
porarily 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,
101
102 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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."
SPOILING THE EGYPTIANS 103
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 imme-
diately 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 com-
plaisance.
"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.
104 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 to-
ward 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, gather-
ing 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 objec-
tion that the man came near being trampled under-
foot, 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.
SPOILING THE EGYPTIANS 105
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 reluc-
tantly, 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 Jooked 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.
io6 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 dam-
age 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 ftas
been conducting a prosperous instalment business
for ten years on the same old stock of furniture;
SPOILING THE EGYPTIANS 107
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 grow-
ing 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 ven-
tured.
"Nothing like it," denied the judge emphatically.
"I was in a decent, respectable loan business. Col-
lateral 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
io8 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 com-
pany ?" he wanted to know. "I could understand it
if you had been running a local building-loan com-
pany, for in that the only salaried officer is the sec-
retary, 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 ad-
miringly. "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 com-
panies, 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
SPOILING THE EGYPTIANS 109
enjoy myself. This country's getting too corrupt
to do business in," and Mr. Fox relapsed into sor-
rowful 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 possi-
bilities. 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 Wall-
ingford'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
no YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 ad-
dresses 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 com-
mendable 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."
in
ii2 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 wrin-
kled fingers together and gazed across them at Wall-
ingford 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,"
EATING CAKE AND HAVING IT 113
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 gentle-
man 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 ade-
quate 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. Wall-
ingford, 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,"
ii4 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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. Wall-
ingford walked out, but the moment they heard
his own door close behind him conjecture be-
gan.
"I wonder how much money he's got," specu-
lated fish-white Doc Turner, rubbing his claw-like
hands softly together.
"He's stopping at the Tel ford 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," ob-
served Squinch. "I imagine, gentlemen, that he
might be willing to pay quite two thousand dollars."
EATING CAKE AND HAVING IT 115
"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," re-
sumed 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
n6 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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, how-
ever, 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 out-
burst 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,
EATING CAKE AND HAVING IT 117
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. Walling-
ford 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 com-
pany, 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 with-
out 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 Walling-
ford 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
ii8 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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. Walling-
ford 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 !
EATING CAKE AND HAVING IT 119
"Mr. Merrill, I believe," said Wallingford con-
fidently 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 with-
out 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 an-
nounced, and the conversation would have ended
right there had it not been for Wallingford's en-
gaging personality, a personality so large and com-
prehensive that it made Mr. Merrill reflect that,
though this jovial stranger was undoubtedly engi-
neering a "skin game," he was quite evidently "no
120 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
piker," and was, therefore, entitled to courteous
consideration.
"What you have to pay won't break you," said
Wallingford, laughing, and presented a neatly en-
graved card conveying merely the name of The Peo-
ple'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. Every-
body gets a chance. With every payment you sign
a loan application and your receipt is numbered, giv-
ing 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 dis-
tributed in monthly loans."
"Oh !" exclaimed Mr. Merrill, the firmness of his
EATING CAKE AND HAVING IT 121
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
122 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
his mind upon this placard, Mr. Wallingford ex-
plained his new boon to humanity : the great oppor-
tunity for a four-year loan, without interest or se-
curity, 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 stray-
ing to the strawberry festival placard.
"Not a bit of it," denied Wallingford, shocked
beyond measure. "It is merely a mutual benefit as-
sociation, 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 hun-
dred 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 de-
vice, Mr. Wright, for concentrating the savings of
a large number of people."
Mr. Wright was forcibly impressed with Walling-
ford's illustration, but, being a very bright man, he
EATING CAKE ANP HAVING IT 123
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 redemp-
tion 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 per-
plexed.
"The redemption fund. It is supplied from re-
turned loans."
Again the bright Mr. Wright saw a radical ob-
jection.
"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?"
124 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
Mr. Wright was hastily sure of it, though he be-
came thoughtful immediately thereafter.
"So would a large majority of the others," Wall-
ingford went on. "Honesty is more prevalent than
you would imagine, sir. However, all our losses
from this source will be made up by lapsation. Laps-
ation!"
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 sup-
pose you understand how large a percentage of laps-
ation there is. Let me show you."
From his pocket Mr. Wallingford produced a
little red book, showing how in industrial and fra-
ternal insurance the percentage of lapsation
amounts to a staggering percentage, thus reducing
EATING CAKE AND HAVING IT 125
by forfeited capital the cost of insurance in those
organizations.
"So you see, Mr. Wright," concluded Walling-
ford, 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' commis-
sion. At a fifteen-dollar dinner that evening Mr.
Merrill found him a good fellow, and, being inter-
ested 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
A NDY 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 to-
gether 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 lugubri-
ous 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
126
A BRIEF CHARACTER BIT 127
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?" com-
plained 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 com-
plete 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
128 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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
A BRIEF CHARACTER Bit 129
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 accom-
plished 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. Wall-
ingford. 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."
130 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
The five individually and collectively nodded their
heads.
"Expense fund," interpolated Doc Turner, his
blue-tipped nose wrinkling with the enjoyment trans-
mitted from his whetting palms, "meaning your-
self."
"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 dol-
lars 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 inter-
est, and the loans will be made at the discretion of
the loan committee, meeting in secret session."
Mr. Squinch drew a long breath.
A BRIEF CHARACTER BIT 131
"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 quar-
ter 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 de-
linquent 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 re-
deemed ?" asked Mr. Squinch severely.
"In their numbered order," announced Mr. Wall-
ingford 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
132 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 lot-
tery."
"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 pri-
vate moment, and, turning over to each of the five
gentlemen two shares of his own stock in the com-
pany, 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
A BRIEF CHARACTER BIT 133
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 con-
cern in which they ought to have more than a pal-
try two shares each of stock. Each gentleman, exer-
cising 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 busi-
ness, 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. Ruf us 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 ag-
gravatingly jovial, even exasperating, in the crow-
ing 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,
I34 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 in-
terested.
"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
A BRIEF CHARACTER BIT 135
all that six months to get my ten thousand mem-
bers."
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 in-
crease.
"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 re-
ported to his confreres, after having reluctantly con-
fessed 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
136 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
narrow croquet wicket ; "and the longer we stay out
of this thing the more money we're losing. It's bet-
ter 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, impa-
tient that of so obvious a fact any explanation should
be required.
"But why does he want to keep control?" per-
sisted 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, any-
how," he shrilled. "He wants twenty-five thousand
A BRIEF CHARACTER BIT 137
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 ap-
peared upon the door of the only vacant office left
in the Turner block, the sign: "The People's Co-
operative Bond and Loan Company."
Mr. Wallingford did not seem to be in the slight-
est degree put out by the competition. In fact, he
was most friendly with the new concern, and of-
fered Doc Turner, who had been nominated man-
ager of the new company, his assistance in arrang-
ing 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 jump-
138 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
ing 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 en-
tered the office, a stranger, a black-haired, black-
eyed, black-mustached young man, of quite minis-
terial appearance indeed, as to mere clothing, who
introduced himself to Doc Turner as one Mr. Clif-
ford, 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 creden-
tials. I have come to inspect your plan of operation,
and to examine all printed forms, books and min-
utes."
Mr. Wallingford rose to go, but a very natural
curiosity apparently led him to remain standing,
while Doc Turner, with a troubled glance at
A BRIEF CHARACTER BIT 139
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, in-
deed, 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 at-
tempt 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
1 40 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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. Clif-
ford 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 diver-
gence; no doubt whatever! By the way, Walling-
ford," 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."
A BRIEF CHARACTER BIT 141
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 Tur-
ner 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 ex-
perience 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
i who had given his name as Mr. Clifford were shak-
ing hands with much glee.
142 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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? Sup-
pose 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."
A BRIEF CHARACTER BIT 143
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
Walling ford.
"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 pro-
digiously, 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 guess-
ing 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 fore-
seen their extravagant belief in his "pull," knowing
what he did of their previous experience, and he
144
WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT 145
had foreseen that now they would offer to buy up
the stock held by his office force, so as to secure con-
trol, 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 y<3ur 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."
I46 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"Yes, it is pretty good," admitted Billy; "but I
don't owe Wallingford any more than I owe my-
self."
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 gob-
ble 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
WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT 147
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 im-
mediately 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
148 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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, vot-
ing 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, in-
specting it curiously.
"The drawing," whispered Doc Turner.
"What drawing?"
WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT 149
"The loans."
"You don't mean to say that you're going to con-
duct 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 indig-
nantly wanted to know. "That's what you're pre-
paring 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 lot-
tery. 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 con-
sternation.
"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-rub-
bing agitation.
150 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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, ac-
cording 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, ad-
dressed 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
WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT 151
train they'll arrest you sure. I don't need to remind
you that they don't hold manslaughter as a light of-
fense 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 dramati-
cally. "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 certifi-
cates 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
152 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
shares each, one of fifty and one of forty-seven.
Wallingford hurried them into an envelope, sitting
down to write the add,ress 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 cer-
tificates, hesitated, his pen poised just above the
paper.
"What is it?" he asked.
"You'll probably have to sell those shares at a sac-
rifice, 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
WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT 153
an offer for them ourselves. Wait till I see
Squinch."
He saw Squinch, he saw Tom Fester, he tele-
phoned to Andy Grout, and the four of them gath-
ered 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 an-
other, for that matter. Moreover, new stock-holders
might "raise a rumpus" about their methods of con-
ducting 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 com-
pelled 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 Wall-
ingford, "and worth par !"
"It is a debatable point," said Mr. Squinch, plac/<
i54 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
ing 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," re-
turned 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 busi-
ness, 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 !
WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT 155
"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 de-
cided negative.
"Give me fifteen," pleaded Wallingford. "Twelve
K-tcn."
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 certifi-
cates. 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 Walling-
ford.
"I've made my lowest offer," he said. "Ten thou-
sand or I'll drop these in the mail box."
156 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 thou-
sand.
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, Wall-
ingford?"
"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 big-
ger than a mosquito ?"
"I don't know. I think I made quite a sizable kill-
ing down in Doc Turner's little old town," he said
complacently.
WALLINGFORD IS FROZEN OUT 157
"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 any-
thing 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 lo-
cated 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 Walling-
ford 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 expres-
sionless 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.
158
BEAUTY IN THE SPOT-LIGHT 159
"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 pleas-
ant 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, ancl
160 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 re-
signed 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, dis-
puting 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 poi-
son 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 gal-
lery seat,"
BEAUTY IN THE SPOT-LIGHT 161
"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 admira-
tion. 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 neck-
tie : 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
1 62 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 ali-
mony 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 Bant-
ing ? 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
BEAUTY IN THE SPOT-LIGHT 163
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 some-
body 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 in-
formation 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."
1 64 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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, Walling-
ford?" 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?"
BEAUTY IN THE SPOT-LIGHT 165
"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 in-
formed 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 cop-
pered 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, dockers and
1 66 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 com-
plexion 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
BEAUTY IN THE SPOT-LIGHT 167
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 dur-
ing that meal he observed :
1 68 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 sud-
denly.
"This Beauty Phillips could carry an awful handi-
cap 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."
BEAUTY IN THE SPOT-LIGHT 169
"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 in-
terest 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 seduc-
tive advertisement, which he passed over to the
Beauty :
1 70 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 special-
ists'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
BEAUTY IN THE SPOT-LIGHT 171
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, re-
luctantly holding back, for his hotel bill, three hun-
dred 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.
172
AN OLD SCORE EVENED UP 173
"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 ton-
neau.
"You must be hitting them up some, Walling-
ford," 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 au-
dible.
"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,
174 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 dockers' 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," lie ob-
AN OLD SCORE EVENED UP 175
served, "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 ex-
cite 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.
i ;6 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 him-
self.
"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.
AN OLD SCORE EVENED UP 177
"How long will it be until dinner's ready, Wall-
ingford?" 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, com-
fortable 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 acci-
dent, pitched Wallingford's stack of chips on the
178 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
floor with a toss of the deck. Amid the profuse
apologies of Larry, Mr. Phelps, who was at Wall-
ingford'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 pa jama 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, througn 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 ut-
most gravity.
One o'clock! J. Rufus pondered the matter
slowly.
"Morning or afternoon," he huskily asked.
"Afternoon, sir," and this time the butler per-
mitted himself the slightest trace of a smile as he
AN OLD SCORE EVENED UP 179
noted the electric lights, still blazing in sickly de-
fiance 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, how-
ever, the butler coughed once, gently; once, nor-
mally; 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 tbe 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 con-
tents very slowly.
"Spiked!" he groaned aloud,
i8o • YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 sur-
veyed the wreck. On the table was a confusion of
cards and chips, and around its edge stood five cham-
pagne 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.
AN OLD SCORE EVENED UP 181
"I wonder how they overlooked this?" he ques-
tioned.
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 per-
sons have worked this havoc in him.
"Spiked," he concluded again in a tone of resigna-
tion. "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
182 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 hun-
dred and ten of that building he found its glass door
painted with the sign of the National dockers' As-
sociation. 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 dockers' Asso-
ciation were quite willing to "take a chance" on a
five- or a twenty-dollar bill in the mails. Behind
184 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 child-
hood !" 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 win-
ners there this week, and when it does fall for any-
thing, N'Yawk's the biggest yap town on earth."
Wallingford, having drawn up a chair with alac-
rity, 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."
TAKING HIS MONEY 185
"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," ex-
postulated 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. Sup-
pose I pick out the horse Roller Skate for Phila-
delphia. Well, if Roller skates home that day I
advertise in the Philadelphia papers the next morn-
ing, 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 Wall-
ingford. "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
i86 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 Pick-
ins 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 moccasitis out
of their hides, all right."
"Go right ahead, old man, and see if I care,"
TAKING HIS MONEY 187
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.
i88 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"New York mail," observed Blackie. "After
that Razzoo thing it ought to be rich pickings."
"Pickings !" exclaimed J. Rufus, struck by a sud-
den 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 contain-
ing 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 Wallingf ord'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 inter-
rupted 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."
TAKING HIS MONEY 189
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 grab-
bing an uncounted handful of bills from the drawer
of his desk, Blackie stuffed them in his pocket and
led the way out.
190 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
It was at luncheon that Blackie made his first
protest.
"What's the matter with you, J. Rufus?" he de-
manded. "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."
TAKING HIS MONEY 191
"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 anil 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
192 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 cor-
dially 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.
TAKING HIS MONEY 193
"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 cus-
tard, don't he?"
"He's crazy about me," confessed the Beauty
complacently.
"Fine work. Well, just you string him along till
104 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 an-
other. 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 prin-
ciple. 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
tern. Mrs. Phillips sniffed.
This was on a Saturday, a matinee day, and Wall-
ingford went out to the track alone, contenting him-
self with extremely small bets, merely to keep his
interest alive. The day's racing was half over be-
fore he ran across the Broadway Syndicate. They
TAKING HIS MONEY 195
were heartily glad to see him. They greeted him
with even effervescent joy.
"Where have you been, J. Ruf us ?" 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 cheerful-
ness. "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
196 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
and a meaning grin. "Nice money you won on him.
It spends well."
"Enjoy yourselves," invited Wallingford cor-
dially. "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 suav-
ity he could muster under the irritating circum-
stances.
"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
TAKING HIS MONEY 197
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 re-
minded 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 ex-
tracted 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 in-
creased odds, but it was no part of his policy to in-
terfere in anything.
"All right," he said, taking the seven hundred dpi-
198 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
lars 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 sup-
pose he did? Offered me five dollars to boost him
with Beauty. Five dollars!"
TAKING HIS MONEY 199
"The cheap skate!" exclaimed Wallingford sym-
pathetically.
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
200 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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."
201
202 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
'That's all right," said Wallingford. "I'm for the
National dockers' 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 Walling-
ford, not so much on account of this particular bet
as to establish a precedent.
ENJOYING THEMSELVES 203
"Sure," agreed Teller; "although I'll only have to
deposit it again."
"I'm betting the two hundred you don't, remem-
ber," said Wallingford, and they signed a memoran-
dum of the bet, which they deposited with the rock-
jawed proprietor, after that never-smiling gentle-
man 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 busi-
ness.
"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 tri-
umphantly. "To-day he has a piece of Brie fromage
by the name of Handicass."
"Which ought to be called Handcase," supple-
mented 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
204 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
they all enjoyed themselves in contemplation of what
was going to happen to Handicass.
"Got any more?" demanded Larry.
"Not this morning," returned Wallingford, ac-
cepting his role of derided "come-on" with smiling
fortitude. "I want to save some for to-morrow's
bet."
"You see," explained Billy Banting, puffing 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 fel-
lows 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 ac-
cident, Razzoo — of the National dockers' Associa-
tion, and on Wednesday, Wallingford bet four hun-
dred 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 shoul-
ENJOYING THEMSELVES 205
der, and did various other things to keep Fate from
sending home one of those tips as an accidental win-
ner on either Wednesday or Thursday.
Nothing of that disastrous sort happened, how-
ever, 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 Walling-
ford'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, Whip-
saw ! 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 dockers' 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.
206 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"Not yet," said Blackie, laughing, "but I'm will-
ing. 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, sud-
denly 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 denomina-
tion. "What odds do I get? The last time Whip-
ENJOYING THEMSELVES 207
saw was in a race he opened at twelve to one and I
ought to get fifteen at least to-day. Here's a thou-
sand 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."
208 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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
ENJOYING THEMSELVES 209
pool-room where they were known, and made in-
quiries 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 any-
thing 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.
210 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 1
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 fust been in-
trusted to his care. "Spread this in as many pool-
rooms as you can ; get it all down on Whipsaw."
"Three ways?" asked Shorty.
ENJOYING THEMSELVES 211
"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 Walling-
ford 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, maneuvering 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 stifl
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
212 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 oppo-
site 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 com-
pany. 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
ENJOYING THEMSELVES 213
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 near-
est 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 some-
body 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
214 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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, shin-
ing 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 encourage-
ment 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 be-
came an agony as the horses flashed under the wire,
Whipsaw a good, clean half length in the lead !
As the roaring stopped in one high, abrupt wail,
Beauty Phillips, who never knew emotion or excite-
ment, 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 !
Beauty Phillips discovered she was on her feet
ENJOYING THEMSELVES 215
that her blood was pounding and her eyeballs hurt ;
and that she had been, from the stretch down, jump-
ing violently up and down and shrieking the name
of Whipsaw ! Whipsaw ! Whipsaw ! Whipsaw !
A frenzied hand grabbed Blackie Daw by the el-
bow.
"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 Wallingf ord around toward him by the shoul-
der. "I shall have great pleasure in turning over to
Mr. Wallingf ord the combined bets of the Broad-
way 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 con-
descendingly explained to the quartet. "You see, I
am running the National dockers' Association."
216 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 1"
"Who's that?" asked Larry Teller, glaring after
the man who had mentioned the pregnant word
"tip."
"Jake Block, the owner of Whipsaw," Wall ing-
ford 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 turn-
ing.
"What's it your business? But, if you want to
ENJOYING THEMSELVES 217
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 in-
terfered 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 whip-
sawed !"
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
218 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 de-
crepit 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 "drum-
mer," a beardless youth with pink cheeks, jumped
hastily out and rushed into the clean but bare lit-
tle office, followed as hastily by a grizzled vet-
eran of the road who sold dry-goods and notions
and wore gaudy young clothes. Wallingford
emerged much more slowly, as became his ponder-
ous 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, recog-
219
220 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
nizing 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 im-
mediately. There was no one behind the little coun-
ter, 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 friendli-
ness 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 Wall-
J. RUFUS SEEKS INVESTMENT 221
ingford, who, noting the custom, had already sub-
scribed 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 Walling-
ford'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 dis-
played the least interest in the register, and then the
proprietor, a tall, cowboy-like man, with drooping
222 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 coun-
ter to inspect the register.
"I'd like two rooms and a bath," said Walling-
ford, 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 bed-
room 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
J. RUFUS SEEKS INVESTMENT 223
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 perpendicu-
lar 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.
224 YOUNG 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 ap-
proval as they were brought stamping out of their
stalls, though, as he climbed into his place, he re-
gretted 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 direc-
tions," 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
J. RUFUS SEEKS INVESTMENT 225
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," re-
torted 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
226 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 buy in' a maple
grove ?"
Wallingford looked back in thoughtful specula-
tion, but ended by shaking his head, more to him-
self 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
J. RUFUS SEEKS INVESTMENT 227
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 think-
in' 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- impa-
tiently at the big young man by his side.
228 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 in-
quisitive 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 cheer-
fully 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
J. RUFUS SEEKS INVESTMENT 229
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 gaz-
ing 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 pres-
ently.
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 win-
dows and doors and cornices, and with bright brass
lightning-rods projecting upward from every promi-
nence. 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.
230 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 step-
mother. 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 some-
thing to enlarge themselves in the transient eye.
The grocery drummer and the dry-goods salesman
sat together, a little aloof from J. Rufus, and pres-
ently began saying flippant things to the girls as
they passed. A wake of giggles, after each such oc-
231
232 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
casion, 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 ad-
vanced a little uncertainly.
"You 'tend to your own business, Joe Cling,"
ordered Molly, jerking her arm away, but neverthe-
less giving an inquiring glance toward her compan-
ion. 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 un-
compromisingly straight ahead that Billy hesitated,
and the willing enough Molly, seeing that the con-
ference had "struck a snag," took matters into her
own vigorous hands again.
"You're too fresh," she admonished the grocery
SPECULATION IN REAL ESTATE 233
drummer. "Let go my arm, I tell you. Come on,
Fannie," and she flounced away with her compan-
ion, 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 gig-
gles, then suddenly the grocery salesman called :
234 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 after-
noon go sauntering down the street in company
which, if silly, was at least human. While he re-
gretted 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 Walling-
SPECULATION IN REAL ESTATE 235
ford, 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 enter-
taining, 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.
236 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 light-
ning-witted search through the ends of the earth and
the seas therein for extravagant hyperbole and met-
aphor. 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 Chi-
SPECULATION IN REAL ESTATE 237
cago 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 monop-
oly 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 with-
out 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
238 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
went on, glancing down at her as he extended him-
self 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 un-
consciously 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. Never-
theless, the laugh came, and at the sound of it Wall-
ingford involuntarily pressed slightly against his
side the hand that lay upon his arm. They were
passing Hen Moozer's General Merchandise Empo-
rium and Post-Office at the time, and upon the rick-
ety porch, its posts, benches, and even floors whittled
SPECULATION IN REAL ESTATE 239
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, dis-
cussing 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
240 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 adven-
tures 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 an-
other 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. Wall-
ingford."
"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
SPECULATION IN REAL ESTATE 241
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
YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 gen-
uineness 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 in-
side."
He led the way into a queer combination of par-
lor, library, sitting-room and study, where he lit a
big, hanging gasolene lamp, opened his old swing-
ing top desk with a key which he carefully and pom-
pously selected from a pompous bunch, placed a
plush-covered chair for his visitor, and seated him-
self upon an old leather-stuffed chair in front of the
desk.
"Now, sir," said he, swinging around to Walling-
SPECULATION IN REAL ESTATE 243
ford and puffing out his cheeks, "I am ready to con-
sider whatever you may have to say."
Mr. Wallingford's first action was one well-cal-
culated 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 bal-
ance, 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 gentle-
man, a man to be respected-
244 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"With pleasure," said Mr. Bubble. "I don't my-
self 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 mean-
time, 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. "Be-
tween gentlemen such matters are entirely super-
fluous. 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. Bub-
ble, wondering. That swamp had always been there.
Naturally, it would always be there.
"You can't do very much with it," admitted Wall-
ingford. "However, it is barely possible that I
might see a way to utilize it, if the price were rea-
sonable enough. What would you take for it?"
SPECULATION IN REAL ESTATE 245
This was an entirely different matter. Mr. Bub-
ble 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 mos-
quitoes 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.
246 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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. More-
over, 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 writ-
ing, 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, how-
ever, distinctly glared at him, though the eyes of
lx>th women rovecj from him to the pile of bills
SPECULATION IN REAL ESTATE 247
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 al-
ways 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,
248 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 re-
store 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 hypothe-
cate. 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 black-
ness. 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?"
SPECULATION IN REAL ESTATE 249
"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 bathtub,
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 admira-
tion 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,
250 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 Walling-
ford, 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 BE-
COME 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. Ar-
rived 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 ges-
ture of his conduct lost upon the curious Bob.
When he climbed back into the buggy. Bob, find-
ing 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
251
252 YOUNG .WALLINGFORD
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 wrap-
per, peeling potatoes, and heard the sharp voice of
the second Mrs. Bubble scolding her.
"Say," said Bob, "if that old rip was my step-
mother 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, sud-
denly 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.
A GREAT ART CENTER 253
"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 pur-
chase 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 impres-
sively, tapped his compelling finger upon Jonas Bub-
ble's knee. Then said he, with almost tragic earnest-
ness:
"Black Mud!"
Jonas Bubble drew back astounded, eying Wall-
ingford with affrighted incredulity. He had thought
this young man sane.
"Black—" he gasped; "black—" and then hesi-
tated.
"Mud!" finished Wallifigford for him, more im-
pressively 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,
254 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 meaning-
lessly, 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 per-
mission 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 Blake-
ville, 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
A GREAT ART CENTER 255
of it you want — that is," he hastily corrected him-
self, "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 some-
where near the center of the swamp. Bob, back
yonder beyond that clump of bushes you will find
256 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 shal-
low 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 hand-
ling 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
A GREAT ART CENTER 257
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 Mat-
teo, 710 Marabon Building, Boston, Mass., U. S. A.,
care Horace G. Daw.
That night he wrote a careful letter of explana-
tion 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 fol-
lowing 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. Wall-
ingford, sitting in front of the hotel in lazy medita-
tion, 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 Walling-
ford.
"Finest match team anywhere," agreed Abner
258 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
Follis, plucking at his gray goatee and mouthing a
straw, "an5 I make a business o' raisin' thorough-
breds. 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 Wall-
ingford 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 pur-
chase. Speculation that had been mildly active con-
cerning 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
A GREAT ART CENTER 259
— 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 in-
260 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
sisted. "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, with-
out 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. In-
stead, he only laughed down into that lady's bellig-
erent eyes.
"Yes, she can," he insisted with large persuasive-
ness. "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 Wall-
ingford, had already flown up-stairs, and J. Rufus
get himself deliberately to be agreeable to Mrs.
A GREAT ART CENTER 261
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 de-
posit 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 jeal-
ous 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 a§
262 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 possi-
bilities, 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 ex-
ecute ravishments of Etruscan black pottery; he
A GREAT ART CENTER 263
showed her, as the bays pranced on, connoisseurs
and collectors coming from all over the country to
visit the Blakeville studios, and carrying away price-
less 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 re-
produce on the slightest provocation, which was pre-
cisely 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. Hilar-
iously they invited him into the carriage, and in state
drove him home.
Wallingford very wisely kept away from the Bub-
ble 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 din-
ner 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 Satur-
day 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
264
I
ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD 265
ceramics ! I beg of you, Mr. Wallingf ord, 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 ex-
panded his broad chest and beamed.
He knew but little about art, being only the busi-
ness 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 Wall-
ingford chuckling.
Immediately after lunch he went over to the tele-
graph office and wired to the most exclusive estab-
lishment of its sort in New York :
Express three black pottery vases Etruscan pre-
ferred but most expensive you have one eighteen
inches high and two twelve inches high am wiring
266 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 slight-
est 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 un-
opened 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 deli-
cately the idea of an ardent art amateur, but an
ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD 267
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 ineffec-
tually 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 chande-
liers ; and Mrs. Hispin, whose troublesome mustache
in nowise interfered with her mad passion for the
collection of antiques, which, fortunately consist-
ing 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.
268 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
There ensued the regular reports of committees,
ponderous and grave in their frivolity ; there ensued
unfinished business — relating to a disputed sun? of
thirty-nine cents; there ensued new business — relat-
ing to a disputed flaw :n the constitution ; there en-
sued 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
ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD 269
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 wrap-
pings, the precious vases were lifted!
"Ah !" — "How ^-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 mat-
ter was no longer one of conjecture. That very
morning he had received an epoch-making letter
270 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
from the great Vittoreo Matteo! This letter he
read. It fairly exuded with tears — warm, emo-
tional, Latin tears of joy — over the discovery of this
priceless, this glorious, this -beatific black mud ! Al-
ready 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 Blake-
ville.
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 pre-
sent 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 Bub-
ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD 271
ble 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 talk-
ing 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, wom-
an and child, and over all these visions of wealth
hovered the beneficent figure of J. Rufus Walling-
ford.
On Sunday J. Rufus, in solemn black frock-coat
and shiny top hat, attended church. From church he
272 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 contem-
plation of that vast and beautiful expanse of Etrus-
can 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 Blake-
ville 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
ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD 273
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 Bub-
ble, 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 car-
ried the most weight. President Bubble, of the Bub-
ble 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 sur-
veyed and prodded and waded, and finally installed
filtration boxes and a pumping engine ; and all Blake-
ville 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 ex-
haust of the steam, the smoke of the stack, and the
274 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 pri-
vacy 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 al-
ready 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 fol-
lowed 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 compari-
son. Though they had been made by the same fac-
tory, the ladies of the Women's Culture Club one
and all could see the enormous difference in the ex-
quisiteness of the under-glaze. The Etruscan ware
was infinitely superior, and just think! this beautiful
ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD 275
vase was made from Blakeville's own superior ar-
ticle of black mud !
Up in Hen Moozer's General Merchandise Em-
porium 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 al-
ready was installing an impregnable vault in his va-
cant 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 commer-
cial 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 com-
pelled to go away even for a short time, leaving all
this inspiriting progress behind her. It would be
276 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
just like Mrs. Moozer to take advantage of the situa-
tion! Mrs. Moozer was vice-president of the Wom-
en'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 firm-
ness 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 mu-
nicipal advancement. Let the honors go to those
who had grown up with the city, and who had fur-
nished the substantial nucleus upon which their pros-
perity 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
ETRUSCAN BLACK MUD 277
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 re-
quired 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 enter-
prise. Sometimes he had seventy-five thousand dol-
lars in the Bubble Bank, and sometimes his balance
was less than a thousand.
In the meantime, J. Rufus allowed no opportuni-
ties for his reputation to become stale. In the Atlas
Hotel he built a model bath-room which was to re-
vert 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
278 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 dig-
ging trenches for the foundations !
CHAPTER XXI
THE GREAT VITTOREO MATTED, 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 rec-
ognized him at once as the great and long-expected
artist, Signer Vittoreo Matteo, who, save in the one
respect of short hair, was thoroughly satisfying to
the eye and imagination. Even before the spread-
ing 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, Walling-
279
28o YOUNG WALLINGFORD
ford'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
THE GREAT VITTOREO MATTEO 281
world-famous Etruscan pottery, in the village of
Etrusca, near Milan, Italy, Blackie listened most at-
tentively.
"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, Wall-
ingford drove Blackie forth. Already many of the
faithful had gathered at the site of the Blakeville
Etruscan Studios in anticipation of the great Mat-
teo'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 evapo-
rated 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
282 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 man-
ner 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, catch-
ing the contagion of this superb fervor, ran to the
pail of drinking-water kept for the foundation work-
men, 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 coat-
ing, and with his own immaculate handkerchief he
dried those deft and skilful fingers, while the great
THE GREAT VITTOREO MATTEO 283
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 forgot-
ten, and in the enthusiasm of that psychological mo-
ment 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.
"Signer, 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."
284 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 Eng-
lish with vast respect, even with veneration; the
women because he was an artist, and the men be-
cause he represented vast money-earning capacity.
Even the far-away president of the Women's Cul-
ture Club heard of his advent from a faithful ad-
herent, an anti-Moozer and pro-Forsythe member,
and on Saturday morning J. Rufus Wallingford re-
ceived a gushing letter from that enterprising lady.
MY DEAR MR. WALLINGFORD :
I have been informed that the great event has hap-
pened, 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 na-
tive tongue.
THE GREAT VITTOREO MATTEO 285
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 sig-
nificance.
"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 si
down, Blackie, with Wallingford helping him carry
his grips, was at the steps of the parlor car.
stood aside for the stream of descending passengers
to step down, and had turned to address some re-
mark 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,
286 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
Blackie felt the sinking certainty that this was Miss
Forsythe.
"And this is Signer 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 re-
turn again in a month."
"Oh, it is too bad, too bad indeed !" she exclaimed.
"I sympathize with you, so deeply, Signer 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 en-
thusiasm— and, with every appearance of lively in-
telligence beaming from his eyes, he fired at Miss
Forsythe a tumultuous stream of utterly unintelli-
gible gibberish!
As his flow continued, to the rhythm of an oc-
THE GREAT VITTOREO MATTEO 287
casional, 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 ad-
mitted, 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 beauti-
ful, limpid Italian !"
CHAPTER XXII
IN WHICH J. RUFUS GIVES HIMSELF THE SURPRISE
OF HIS LIFE
WALLINGFORD had kept his finger care-
fully 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 de-
parture 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 com-
pleted, and all his workmen paid off and discharged ;
and the surplus of the Bubble Bank had reached ap-
proximately its high-water mark.
288
THE SURPRISE OF HIS LIFE 289
On Sunday Wallingford, taking dinner with the
^Bubbles, unrolled a set of drawings, showing a beau-
tiful 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 banter-
ing 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 invest-
ment, 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 ap-
probation, 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.
290 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"Three thousand one hundred and sixty-two dol-
lars 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, encourage-
ment. "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 cra-
vat— 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 re-
cently imbibed idea of large operations quickly re-
asserted 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
THE SURPRISE OF HIS LIFE 291
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 opera-
tions 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 predes-
tined 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 busi-
ness 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 care-
lessly. "Fifteen days will do just as well, but I sup-
pose 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, Walling-
ford. 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
292 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 se-
curity, 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. Bub-
ble'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 look-
ing across the great swamp, and now the mine he
had sold to Wallingford for a song was worth al-
most 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 opin-
ion; the other directors were of that opinion; every
one in Blakeville was of that opinion; so Walling-
ford got his forty-five thousand dollars, and the
THE SURPRISE OF HIS LIFE 293
Bubble Bank held in return a mortgage on Walling-
ford'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 impa-
tient 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
294 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
about to hitch his horses the door opened, and Fan-
nie, dressed for the afternoon, but hatless, came fly-
ing 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 huz-
zy!" 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 bugito-
rium," 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
THE SURPRISE OF HIS LIFE 295
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 ad-
vance, and had given her consent. When the time
came, however, she had suddenly insisted that Fan-
nie stop to wash the dishes, which would have
made her a half -hour late. There followed pro-
test, 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 sym-
pathies 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 pos-
sible to the depot. He had barely time to buy his
296 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
tickets when the train came in, and he hurried Fan-
nie into the parlor car, her head still in a whirl and
her confusion heightened by the sudden apprecia-
tion 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 astonish-
ment. 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 electri-
fied 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 go-
ing to marry you!"
THE SURPRISE OF HIS LIFE 297
"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 luxuri-
ous 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
298
STILL ANOTHER SURPRISE 299
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 Blake ville, 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 fed-
eral 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 Signer 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 \Vallingford had retired to a cozy little cor-
ner 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."
3oo YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 Walling-
ford. "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
STILL ANOTHER SURPRISE 301
prove the whole thing to have been a frame-up.
Suppose they find out ?"
Wallingford swelled up with righteous indigna-
tion.
"Vittoreo Matteo," he charged, "you are a ras-
cally 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.
302 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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, wher-
ever 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 thou-
sand 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 mo-
ments, and gradually Wallingford saw beneath
those eyes a spirit that he might conquer, but, hav-
ing conquered, would always regret.
"It's — it's a swindle !" she gasped, as the true sit-
STILL ANOTHER SURPRISE 303
uation began to dawn upon her. "You don't mean,
Jim, that you are a swindler!"
"No, I wouldn't call it that," he objected, consid-
ering 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 Vit-
toreo Matteo and find him to be a fraud, and prove
that I knew it!"
She was thoughtful a long time, following the in-
tricate 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 re-
garded 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 de-
stroy my self-respect for ever. Have you spent any
of that money?"
304 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 light-
ness; "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.
STILL ANOTHER SURPRISE 305
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 shoul-
der— 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 trav-
eled 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 in-
land 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 so-
306
A STRAIGHT BUSINESS 307
journs, 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 pic-
turesque 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, lifesize anatomical
chart, and with this as bait for his moths he was ex-
tolling 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
iww-ternal organs, and above all with the blood,
which, pumped by the heart through these abb-sorb-
ing membranes, takes up that priceless tonic, Doctor
Quagg's Peerless Sciatacata. This, acting c/n-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 iwm-purities, clean-smg the syst-^m, bringing
££-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,
308 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 per-
ceptible 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-mor-
row morning." Then, with added gravity and in a
louder voice: "I scarcely knew you, friend, you
are so changed. How many bottles of the Sciata-
cata 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
A STRAIGHT BUSINESS 309
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 con-
spicuous," she protested in a low voice.
"Why not?" he laughed. "We public characters
must boost one another."
"And the price," they heard the doctor declaim-
ing, "is only one dollar per bottle, or six for five
dollars, guar-aw-teed not only to drive sciatic
rheumatism from the sys-tem, but to cure the most
3io YOUNG WALLINGFORD
ob-stin-ate cases of ague, Bright's disease, cat-a-
lepsy, coughs, colds, cholera, dys-pepsia, ery-sip-e-
las, fever and chills, ^as-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. "Cer-
tainly 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 Walling-
A STRAIGHT BUSINESS 311
ford'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
312 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 hus-
band 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
A STRAIGHT BUSINESS 313
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.
3i4 YOUNG 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, watch-
ing the pouring of the wine with a host's anxiety,
"J think of going into the patent-medicine business
A STRAIGHT BUSINESS 315
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 doc-
tor, 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. Walling-
ford 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. Wall-
ingford was really a splendid fellow !
"What sort of patent medicine are you going to.
manufacture?" asked the doctor by way of court-
esy, but still "listening" to the taste of the wine.
Wallingford laughed.
"I haven't just decided as yet," he announced.
3i6 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 medi-
cine 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 mil-
lion and went to Europe."
"His decoction is terrible stuff," commented the
doctor, more in sorrow than in anger; "but it cer-
tainly 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
A STRAIGHT BUSINESS 317
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 waist-
coat 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 med-
ical ethics! When he was gone there was a con-
spicuous 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 Doc-
tor 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," commis-
erated Wallingford. "Why don't you take five or
six bottles of the Peerless Sciatacata?"
The answer to this was a storm of fervid exple-
tives which needed no diagram. Wallingford,
THE SCIATACATA COMPANY 319
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," ob-
served 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 high-
ball.
"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 any-
thing 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 busi-
ness, and I've come to make you a proposition to go
into the manufacture of the Peerless on a large
scale."
320 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 sup-
ply 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 dol-
lars' worth of stock."
It took Doctor Quagg some time to recover from
the shock of that much money.
THE SCIATACATA COMPANY 321
"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 Wall-
ingford. "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 promo-
tion, 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 de-
clared; "but it don't seem to me you're taking
322 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
enough for yourself. You're giving me ten thou-
sand 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," pro-
tested 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-
THE SCIATACATA COMPANY 323
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, Doc-
tor Quagg, Albert Blesser and Carrie Schwam had
gravely applied for a charter of incorporation under
the laws of the state, for The Doctor Quagg Peer-
less 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, divi-
dends."
"Then I'll wear it," agreed the doctor resignedly ;
"but I hate to. You know I've honed for years
324 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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, Walling-
ford, 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 Sciata-
cata."
"You just nurse your leg," advised Wallingford.
"Why, man, when we start manufacturing the Peer-
less 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 incorpora-
tion 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
THE SCIATACATA COMPANY 325
dollars. They gave Quagg his hundred shares and
Wallingford his fifty; they voted Quagg his salary
and Wallingford his royalty ; also they voted Wall-
ingford an honorarium of twenty-five per cent.,
payable in stock, for disposing of such of the
treasury shares as they needed issued, and imme-
diately 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 pros-
perous 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, where-
upon 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,
326 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"For the first half of this campaign," he ex-
plained to the advertising man, "I want this one ad
spread everywhere: 'Laugh at That Woozy Feel-
ing.' 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 instruc-
tions 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
THE SCIATACATA COMPANY 327
straight business, Fannie," said he. "It gives a fel-
low a sort of clean feeling. I'm going to build up
a million-dollar business and make everybody con-
cerned in it rich, including myself. Already I've
placed one hundred thousand dollars' worth of
stock, have fifty thousand dollars cash in the treas-
ury, 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."
328 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 fac-
tory, 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.
THE SCIATACATA COMPANY 329
"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-mil-
lion-dollar corporation? Why, Jim, for his medi-
cine, 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 divi-
dends 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 con-
330 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
fining myself to the straight and narrow!" he ex-
claimed.
"Oh, I didn't mean that, Jim," she said, with in-
stant 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 for-
tune, 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 Wall-
ingford had waited, helped him to sell the stock
to pay for itself, and, in the meantime, he was busy
331
332 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 Ben-
son 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 vate that Walling-
ford 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 com-
pound seemed a cold, commercial proposition which
was so much a sacrilege that he went out and
A DELUSION AND A SNARE 333
"painted the town," winding up in a fight with a
cigar-store Indian. He left such a train of fire-
works 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 exclu-
sives 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 connec-
tion with them !
334 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 ap-
peared 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 book-
keeper, 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
A DELUSION AND A SNARE 335
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 "part-
ners"— 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. Wall-
ingford went down to the corner with the inten-
tion of putting a stop to the exhibition, but, as he
looked, at the doctor, whose hair now dropped be-
neath 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 treasurer-
ship and Paley from the directorate, and every
one of the directors who had taken the places of the
original incorporators did likewise. Intimate rela-
336 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
tionship 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. Wall-
ingford, to placate him, finished paying for the con-
tract 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 Sciata-
cata. Yours truly, QUAGG.
It was the last straw, and the stock-holders' meet-
ing which Wallingford hastily called wore the
A DELUSION AND A SNARE 337
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," re-
sumed Wallingford. "We have all this fine station-
ery 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 Peer-
less 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
338 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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 "func-
tion" 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 consider-
able sadness that they dispersed, after having de-
cided, somewhat reluctantly, that Wallingford
should go ahead with the Sciatacata. Pursuing this
plan Wallingford sent away the copy for the bot-
tom 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
A DELUSION AND A SNARE 339
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 Sciata-
cata 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 instruc-
tions, and to secure him at least a week's grace be-
fore forfeiture of the contract; then he proceeded
quietly to telephone the stock-holders. He found
great difficulty in getting the use of his line, how-
ever, 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 train-
ing 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.
340 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 him-
self 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 Laz-
zier, young Corbin, young Paley and the others
attended that meeting for the disposal of the con-
cern 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. Dor-
341
342 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
cas in a businesslike manner, "and all I find here of
any value to me is your second-hand bottling machin-
ery 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 dol-
lars."
It was young Corbin who put up the loudest pro-
test.
"Why, man, such an offer is preposterous! Be-
sides the twenty-five thousand invested in the
machinery, fixtures and other expenses, we have
spent exactly a hundred thousand dollars in adver-
tising."
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 re-
bated, though only a small part, but he was not
saying anything. Temptation had caught up with
Wallingford, had wrestled with him and overthrown
him!
LAUGH AT THAT WOOZY FEELING 343
"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 ac-
cept 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 pur-
chase 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.
344 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
"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 busi-
ness with Mr. Dorcas, and to transfer to that gentle-
man, 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 Cor-
bin felt especially sorry for Wallingford's contri-
tion.
LAUGH AT THAT WOOZY FEELING 345
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 adver-
tising company," and he wrote rapidly a lengthy tel-
egram.
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 ad-
vertisement."
Blackie picked up the proof sheet and glanced
over it in evident approval. Taken altogether, it
read;
346 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
LAUGH AT
THAT WOOZY FEELING
DRINK GINGEREE!
IT PUTS THE GINGER IN YOU
TEN CENTS AT ALL SODA FOUNTAINS
"Within a week," exulted Wallingford, "every-
body in the middle states will know all about Gin-
geree. Before that time I'll have Gingeree in-
vented, 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! Writh 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!"
LAUGH AT THAT WOOZY FEELING 347
The door of the office opened and Mrs. Walling-
ford came in.
"Blackie Daw !" she exclaimed. "And so you are
in town and mixed up in Jim's affairs ! Jim Walling-
ford, 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
348 YOUNG WALLINGFORD
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.
THE END
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