by Sewell Ford
CHAPTER XI
A LOOK IN ON THE GOAT GAME
Pinckney was tellin' me, here awhile back at lunch one day, what terrorsthem twins of his was gettin' to be. He relates a tragic tale about howthey'd just been requested to resign from another private school wherethey'd been goin' as day scholars.
"That is the third this season," says he; "the third, mind you!"
"Well, there's more still, ain't there?" says I.
"Brilliant observation, Shorty," says he, "also logical and pertinent.Yes, there are several others still untried by the twins."
"What you howlin' about, then?" says I.
"Because," says he, toyin' with the silver frame that holds the bill offare, "because it is not my intention to demoralize all the educationalinstitutions of this city in alphabetical order."
"G'wan!" says I. "The kids have got to be educated somewhere, haven'tthey?"
"Which is the sad part of it," says Pinckney, inspectin' the dish ofscrambled eggs and asparagus tips and wavin' the waiter to do the servinghimself. "It means," he goes on, "having a governess around the house,and you know what nuisances they can be."
"Do I?" says I. "The nearest I ever got to havin' a governess was whenMrs. O'Grady from next door used to come in to use our wash-tubs and Iwas left with her for the day. Nobody ever called her a nuisance and gotaway with it."
"What an idyllic youth to look back upon!" says he. "I can remember halfa dozen, at least, who had a hand in directing the course of my buddingintellect, and each one of them developed some peculiarity whichcomplicated the domestic situation. I am wondering what this newgoverness of ours will contribute."
"Got one on the job already, eh?" says I.
"This is her third day," says he, "and if she manages to live through itwith the twins, I shall have hope."
"Ah, pickles!" says I. "Those kids are all right. They're full of lifeand ginger, that's all."
"Especially ginger," says Pinckney.
"What of it?" says I. "Or are you just blowin' about 'em? It's all right,they're a great pair, and any time you want to entertain me for half anhour, turn 'em loose in my comp'ny."
"Done!" says Pinckney. "We'll take a cab right up."
"Put it off three minutes, can't you?" says I, lookin' over the Frenchpastry tray and spearin' a frosted creampuff that was decorated up withsugar flowers until it looked like a bride's bouquet.
He insists on callin' my bluff, though; so up the avenue we goes, when Ishould have been hotfootin' it back to the studio. But I could see thatPinckney was some anxious about how the kids was gettin' on, Gertie beingaway for the day, and I thinks maybe I'll be useful in calmin' any riothe might find in progress.
All was quiet and peaceful, though, as Pinckney opens the door with hislatchkey. No howls from upstairs, no front windows broken, and nobodyslidin' down the banisters. We was just waitin' for the automaticelevator to come down when we hears voices floatin' out from the lib'ry.Pinckney steps to the doorway where he can see through into the nextroom, and then beckons me up for a squint.
It wa'n't the kids at all, but a couple of grownups that was bothstrangers to me. From the way the young woman is dressed I could guessshe was the new governess. Anyway, she's makin' herself right to home, sofar as entertainin' comp'ny goes; for she and the gent with her is moreor less close together and mixed up. First off it looked like a side-holdlover's clinch, and then again it didn't.
"Is it a huggin' match, or a rough-house tackle?" I whispered overPinckney's shoulder.
"I pass the declaration," says he. "Suppose we investigate."
With that we strolls in, and we're within a dozen feet of the couplebefore they get wise to the fact that there's an int'rested audience. Imust say, though, that they made a clean, quick breakaway. Then theystands, starin' at us.
"Ah, Miss Marston!" says Pinckney. "Do I interrupt?"
"Why--er--er--you see, sir," she begins, "I--that is--we----"
And she breaks down with as bad a case of rattles as I ever see. She's anice lookin', modest appearin' young woman, too, a little soft about themouth, but more or less classy in her lines. Her hair is some mussed, andthere's sort of a wild, desp'rate look in her eyes.
"A near relative, I presume?" suggests Pinckney, noddin' at the gent,who's takin' it all cool enough.
"Oh, yes, sir," gasps out the governess. "My husband, sir."
And the gent, he bows as easy and natural as if he was bein' introducedat an afternoon tea party. "Glad to know you," says he, stickin' out hishand, which Pinckney, bein' absent-minded just then, fails to see.
"Really!" says Pinckney, lookin' the governess up and down. "Then it'snot Miss Marston, but Mrs.--er----"
"Yes," says she, lettin' her chin drop, "Mrs. Marston."
"Very unfortunate," says Pinckney, "very!"
"Haw, haw, haw!" breaks out the strange gent, slappin' his knee. "I saynow, but that's a good one, that is, even if it is at my expense!Unfortunate, eh? Perfectly true though, perfectly true!"
Now it takes a lot to get Pinckney going; but for a minute all he does isturn and size up this husband party with the keen sense of humor. I hadmy mouth open and my eyes bugged too; for he don't look the part at all.Why, he's dressed neat and expensive, a little sporty maybe, for a realgent; but he carries it off well.
"Glad to have your assurance that I was right," says Pinckney, stillgivin' him the frosty eye.
"Oh, don't mention it," says Mr. Marston. "And I trust you will overlookmy butting in here to see Kitty--er, Mrs. Marston. Little matter ofsentiment and--well, business, you know. I don't think it will happenoften."
"I am quite sure it won't," says Pinckney. "And now, if the interview hasbeen finished, I would suggest that----"
"Oh, certainly, certainly!" says Marston, edging towards the door. "Allowme, gentlemen, to bid you good-day. And I say, Kit, don't forget thatlittle matter. By-by."
Honest, if I could make as slick a backout as that, without carryin' awayanybody's footprint, I'd rate myself a headliner among the troubledodgers. Pinckney, though, don't seem to appreciate such talents.
"That settles governess No. 1," says he as we starts for the elevatoragain. "We are beginning the series well."
That was before he saw how smooth she got along with Jack and Jill. Aftershe'd given an exhibition of kid trainin' that was a wonder, he remarkedthat possibly he might as well let her stay the week out.
"But of course," says he, "she will have to go. Hanged if I understandhow Mrs. Purdy-Pell happened to send her here, either! Shorty, do yousuppose Sadie could throw any light on this case?"
"I'll call for a report," says I.
Does Sadie know anything about the Marstons? Well, rather! Says she toldme all about 'em at the time too; but if she did it must have got by.Anyway, this was just a plain, simple case of a worthless son marryin'the fam'ly governess and bein' thrown out for it by a stern parent, sameas they always are in them English novels Sadie's forever readin'.
The Marstons was Madison-ave. folks, which means that their back yard wasbounded on the west by the smart set--and that's as far as there's anyneed of going. The girl comes from 'Frisco and is an earthquake orphan.Hence the governess stunt. As for young Marston, he'd been chucked out ofcollege, tried out for a failure in the old man's brokerage office, andthen left to drift around town on a skimpy allowance. So he was in fineshape to get married! The girl sticks to him, though, until there'strouble with the landlady, and then, when he only turns ugly and makes nomove towards gettin' a job, she calls it off, gives him the slip, andbegins rustlin' for herself.
"Oh, well," says Pinckney, "I suppose she ought to have a chance. But ifthat husband of hers is going to----"
"Next time you catch him at it," says I, "just 'phone down for me. It'llbe a pleasure."
I meant it too; for after hearing how she'd lost other places on accountof his hangin' around I could have enjoyed mussin' him up some.
With my feelin' that way, you can guess what a jar it is, one a
fternoonwhen I'm having a little front office chat with my old reg'lar, PyramidGordon, to see this same gent blow in through the door. Almost lookedlike he knew what he ought to get and had come after it.
"Well?" says I as chilly as I knew how.
"Quite so," says he, "quite so. I see you remember our recent meeting.Awkward situation for a moment, wasn't it, eh? Splendid chap, though,your friend----"
"Say, choke off the hot air," says I, "and let's hear what gave you thecourage to climb those stairs!"
And what do you guess? He takes five minutes of steady chinnin' to getaround to it; but he puts over such a velvety line of talk, and it's soint'restin' to watch him do it, that I let him spiel ahead until he getsto the enactin' clause in his own way. And it's nothing more or less thana brassy fingered touch for a twenty, all based on the fact that he metme at a house where his wife's drawin' wages.
"Mr. Gordon," says I, turnin' to Pyramid, who's heard it all, "what doyou think of that, anyway?"
"Very neat, indeed," says Pyramid, chucklin'.
"And then a few!" says I. "I can almost see myself givin' up that twentyright off the bat. Nothing but great presence of mind and wonderfulself-control holds me back. But look here, Mr. What's-your-name----"
"Marston," says he, flashin' an engraved visitin' card, "L. EgbertMarston."
"L. Egbert, eh?" says I. "Does the L stand for Limed? And what do theycall you for short--Eggie?"
"Oh, suit yourself," says he, with a careless wave of the hand.
"All right, Eggie," says I; "but before we get in any deeper I've got aconundrum or two to spring on you. We got kind of curious, Pinckney andme, about that visit of yours. He thinks we disturbed a fond embrace. Itlooked diff'rent to me. I thought I could see finger-marks on the younglady's throat. How about it?"
Course he flushes up. Any man would under a jab like that, and I lookedfor him either to begin breakin' the peace or start lyin' out of it.There's considerable beef to Egbert, you know. He'd probably weigh in ata hundred and eighty, with all that flabby meat on him, and if it wa'n'tfor that sort of cheap look to his face you might take him for a realman. But he don't show any more fight than a cow. He don't even put inany indignant "Not guilty!" He just shrugs his shoulders and indulges ina sickly laugh.
"It doesn't sound nice," says he; "but sometimes they do need a bit oftraining, these women."
"For instance?" says I. "In the matter of handing over a little spendin'money, eh?"
"You've struck it," says he, with another shrug.
I glances at Pyramid; but there wa'n't any more expression to that drawpoker face of his than as if it was a cement block.
"Egbert," says I, frank and confidential, "you're a sweet scented pill,ain't you?"
And does that draw any assault and battery motions? It don't. All theresult is to narrow them shifty eyes of his and steady 'em down untilhe's lookin' me square in the face.
"I was hard up, if you want to know," says he. "I didn't have a dollar."
"And that," says I, "is what you give out as an excuse for----"
"Yes," he breaks in. "And I'm no worse than lots of other men, either.With money, I'm a gentleman; without it--well, I get it any way I can.And I want to tell you, I've seen men with plenty of it get more inmeaner ways. I don't know how to juggle stocks, or wreck banks, or useany of the respectable methods that----"
"Nothing personal, I hope," puts in Mr. Gordon, with another chuckle.
"Not so intended," says Marston.
"Eh, thanks," says Pyramid.
"We'll admit," says I, "that your partic'lar way of raisin' funds, Mr.Marston, ain't exactly novel; but didn't it ever occur to you that somefolks get theirs by workin' for it?"
"I know," says he, tryin' to seem good natured again; "but I'm not thatkind. I'm an idler. As some poet has put it, 'Useless I linger, acumberer here.'"
"You're a cucumber, all right," says I; "but why not, just for a change,make a stab at gettin' a job?"
"I've had several," says he, "and never could hold one more than a week.Too monotonous, for one thing; and then, in these offices, one is thrownamong so many ill bred persons, you know."
"Sure!" says I, feelin' my temper'ture risin'. "Parties that had ratherwork for a pay envelope than choke their wives. I've met 'em. I've heardof your kind too, Egbert; but you're the first specimen I ever got realclose to. And you're a bird! Mr. Gordon, shall I chuck him through thewindow, or help him downstairs with my toe?"
"I wouldn't do either," says Pyramid. "In fact, I think I can make use ofthis young man."
"Then you're welcome to him," says I. "Blaze ahead."
"Much obliged," says Pyramid. "Now, Mr. Marston, what is the mostreasonable sum, per month, that would allow you to carry out your idea ofbeing a gentleman?"
Egbert thinks that over a minute and then puts it at three hundred.
"And would it conflict with those ideas," Pyramid goes on, "if you wererequired, say twice a week, to spend an hour in a private office, signingyour name?"
Egbert thinks he could stand that.
"Very well, then," says Pyramid, producin' his checkbook and gettin' busywith the fountain pen, "here is your first month's salary in advance.Whenever you find it convenient during the week, report at my offices.Ask for Mr. Bradley. Yes, Bradley. That's all," and Pyramid lights up oneof his torches as satisfied as though he'd just bought in a Senator.
As for Egbert, he stows the check away, taps me on the shoulder, andremarks real friendly, "Well, professor, no hard feelings, I hope?"
"Say, Eggie," says I, "seems to me I expressed myself once on that point,and I ain't had any sudden change of heart. If I was you I'd beat whilethe beatin's good."
Egbert laughs; but he takes the advice.
"Huh!" says I to Pyramid. "I expect that's your notion of making a funnyplay, eh!"
"I'm no humorist, Shorty," says he.
"Then what's the idea?" says I. "What do you mean?"
"I never mean anything but cold, straight business," says he. "That's theonly game worth playing."
"So?" says I. "Then here's where you got let in bad with your eyes open.You heard him tell how useless he was?"
"I did," says Pyramid; "but I always do my own appraising when I hiremen. I anticipate finding Mr. Marston somewhat useful."
And say, that's all I can get out of Pyramid on the subject; for when itcomes to business, he's about as chatty over his plans as a hard shellclam on the suffragette question. I've known him to make some freakplans; but this move of pickin' out a yellow one like Egbert andrewardin' him as if he was a Carnegie medal winner beat anything he'dever sprung yet.
It's no bluff, either. I hears of this Marston gent sportin' around atthe clubs, and it wa'n't until I accident'lly run across an item on theWall Street page that I gets any more details. He shows up, if youplease, as secretary of the Consolidated Holding Company that there'sbeen so much talk about. I asks Pinckney what kind of an outfit that was;but he don't know.
"Huh!" says I. "All I'd feel safe in givin' Egbert to hold for me wouldbe one end of the Brooklyn Bridge."
"I don't care what he holds," says Pinckney, "if he will stay away fromour little governess. She's a treasure."
Seems Mrs. Marston had been doin' some great tricks with the twins, notonly keepin' 'em from marrin' the furniture, but teachin' 'em all kindsof knowledge and improvin' their table manners, until it was almost safeto have 'em down to luncheon now and then.
But her life was being made miser'ble by the prospect of havin' Egbertshow up any day and create a row. She confided the whole tale to Sadie,how she was through with Marston for good, but didn't dare tell him so,and how she sent him most of her salary to keep him away.
"The loafer!" says I. "And think of the chance I had at him there in thestudio! Hanged if I don't get even with Pyramid for that, though!"
But I didn't. Mr. Gordon's been too busy this season to show up for anytrainin', and it was only here the other day that I runs across him inthe street.
"Well," says I, "how's that work scornin' pet of yours gettin' on thesedays?"
"Marston?" says he. "Why, haven't you heard? Mr. Marston is away on avacation."
"Vacation!" says I. "He needs it, he does!"
"The company thought so," says Pyramid. "They gave him six months' leavewith pay. He's hunting reindeer or musk ox somewhere up in BritishColumbia."
"Him a hunter?" says I. "G'wan!"
Pyramid grins. "He did develop a liking for the wilderness rathersuddenly," says he; "but that is where he is now. In fact, I shouldn't besurprised if he stayed up there for a year or more."
"What's the joke?" says I, catchin' a flicker in them puffy eyes ofPyramid's.
"Why, just this," says he. "Mr. Marston, you know, is secretary of theConsolidated Holding Company."
"Yes, I read about that," says I. "What then?"
"It pains me to state," says Mr. Gordon, "that in his capacity ofsecretary Mr. Marston seems to have sanctioned transactions which violatethe Interstate Commerce act."
"Ah-ha!" says I. "Turned crooked on you, did he?"
"We are not sure as yet," says Pyramid. "The federal authorities areanxious to settle that point by examining certain files which appear tobe missing. They even asked me about them. Perhaps you didn't notice,Shorty, that I was cross-examined for five hours, one day last week."
"I don't read them muck rakin' articles," says I.
"Quite right," says Pyramid. "Well, I couldn't explain; for, as their ownenterprising detectives discovered, when Mr. Marston boarded the MontrealExpress his baggage included a trunk and two large cases. Odd of him totake shipping files on a hunting trip, wasn't it?" and Pyramid tips methe slow wink.
I'm more or less of a thickhead when it comes to flossy finance; but I'veseen enough plain flimflam games to know a few things. And the winkclinched it. "Mr. Gordon," says I, "for a Mr. Smooth you've got a greasedpig in the warthog class. But suppose Egbert gets sick of the woods andhikes himself back? What then?"
"Jail," says Pyramid, shruggin' his sable collar up around his ears."That would be rather deplorable too. Bright young man, Marston, in manyways, and peculiarly adapted for----"
"Yes, I know the part," says I. "They gen'rally spells it g-o-a-t."