by Sewell Ford
CHAPTER XI
THE PASSING BY OF BUNNY
It's a shame the way some of these popular clubmen is bothered withbusiness. Here was Mr. Robert, only the other day, with an importantfour-cue match to be played off between four-thirty and dinnertime; andwhat does the manager of our Chicago branch have to do but go and mussup the schedule by wirin' in that he might have to call forheadquarters' advice on that Burlington order maybe after closin' time.
"Oh, pshaw!" remarks Mr. Robert, after he's read the message.
"The simp!" says I. "Guess he thinks the Corrugated gen'ral officesruns night and day shifts, don't he?"
"Very well put," says Mr. Robert. "Still, it means rather a bigcontract. But, you see, the fellows are counting on me for this match,and if I should---- Oh, but I say, Torchy," he breaks off sudden,"perhaps you have no very important engagement for the early evening?"
"Me?" says I. "Nothing I couldn't scratch. I can shoot a little pooltoo; but when it comes to balk line billiards I expect I'd be a dubamong your crowd."
"Refreshing modesty!" says Mr. Robert. "What I had in mind, however,was that you might wait here for the message from Nixon, while I attendto the match."
"Oh, any way you choose," says I. "Sure I'll stay."
"Thanks," says he. "You needn't wait longer than seven, and if itcomes in you can get me on the 'phone and---- No, it will be in code;so you'd best bring it over."
And it wa'n't so much of a wait, after all, not more'n an hour; for atsix-fifteen I've been over to the club, had Mr. Robert called from thebilliard room, got him to fix up his answer, and am pikin' out thefront door with it when he holds me up to add just one more word.Maybe we was some conspicuous from Fifth-ave., him bein' still in hisshirt sleeves and the steps bein' more or less brilliant.
Anyway, I'd made another start and was just gettin' well under way,when alongside scuffs this hollow-eyed object with the mangy whiskersand the mixed-ale breath.
"Excuse me, young feller," says he, "but----"
"Ah, flutter by, idle one!" says I. "I'm no soup ticket."
"Ah, flutter by, idle one!" says I.]
"But just a word, my friend," he insists.
"Save your breath," says I, "and have it redistilled. It's worth it."
"Thanks," he puffs out as he shuffles along at my elbow; "but--butwasn't that Bob Ellins you were just talking to?"
"Eh?" says I, glancin' at him some astonished; for a seedier specimenyou couldn't find up and down the avenue. "What do you know about him,if it was?"
"More than his name," says the wreck. "He--he's an old friend of mine."
"Oh, of course," says I. "Anyone could tell that at a glimpse. Iexpect you used to belong to the same club too?"
"Is old Barney still on the door?" says he.
And, say, he had the right dope on that. Not three minutes before I'dheard Mr. Robert call the old gink by name. But that hardly proved thecase.
"Clever work," says I. "What was it you used to do there, take out theashes."
"I don't wonder you think so," says he; "but it's a fact that Bob and Iare old friends."
"Why don't you tackle him, then," says I, "instead of botherin' a busyman like me? Go back and call him out."
"I haven't the face," says he. "Look at me!"
"I have," says I, "and, if you ask me, you look like something the catbrought in."
He winces a little at that. "Don't tell Bob how bad it was, then,"says he. "Just say you let me have a fiver for him."
"Five bucks!" says I. "Say, I'm Mr. Robert's office boy, not his bankaccount."
"Two, then?" he goes on.
"My, but I must have the boob mark on me plain!" says I.
"Couldn't you spare a half," he urges, "just a half, to get me a littlesomething to eat, and a drink, and pay for a bed?"
"Oh, sure!" says I. "I carry a pocketful of halves to shove out to allthe bums that presents their business cards."
"But Bob would give it back to you," he pleads. "I swear he would!Just tell him you gave it to--to----"
"Well?" says I. "Algernon who?"
"Tell him it was for Melville Slater," says he. "He'll know."
"Melly Slater, eh?" says I. "Sounds all aright. But I'd have to chewit over first, even for a half. I have chances of gettin' stung likethis about four times a day, Melly. And, anyway, I got to file amessage first, over at the next corner."
"I'll wait outside," says he.
"That's nice of you," says I. "It ain't any cinch you'll connect,though."
But as I dashes into a hotel where there's a blue sign out he leans upagainst a window gratin', sort of limp and exhausted, and it looks likehe means to take a sportin' chance.
How you goin' to tell, anyway? Most of 'em say they've been thrown outof work by the trusts, but that they've heard of a job in Newark, orBridgeport, or somewhere, which they could get if they could onlyrustle enough coin to pay the fare. And they'll add interestin'details about havin' a sick wife, or maybe four hungry kids, and so on.
But this rusty bunch of works has a new variation. He's an old friendof the boss. Maybe it was partly so too. If it was--well, I got tothinkin' that over while the operator was countin' the words, and sothe next thing I does is to walk over to the telephone queen and haveher call up Mr. Robert.
"Well?" says he, impatient.
"It's Torchy again," says I. "I've filed the message, all right. But,say, there's a piece of human junk that I collected from in front ofthe club who's tryin' to panhandle me for a half on the strength ofbein' an old chum of yours. He says his name's Melville Slater."
"Wha-a-at!" gasps Mr. Robert. "Melly Slater, trying to borrow half adollar from you?"
"There's no doubt about his needin' it," says I. "My guess is that ahalf would be a life saver to him just now."
"Why, it doesn't seem possible!!" says Mr. Robert. "Of course, Ihaven't seen Melly recently; but I can't imagine how---- Did you sayhe was still there?"
"Hung up on the rail outside, if the cop ain't shooed him off," says I.
"Then keep him there until I come," says Mr. Robert. "If it's Melly, Imust come. I'll be right over. But don't say a word to him until Iget there."
"Got you," says I. "Hold Melly and keep mum."
I could pipe him off through the swing door vestibule; and, honest,from the lifeless way he's propped up there, one arm hangin' loose, hishead to one side, and that white, pasty look to his nose andforehead--well, I didn't know but he'd croaked on the spot. So I slipsthrough the cafe exit and chases along the side street until I meetsMr. Robert, who's pikin' over full tilt.
"You're sure it's Melly Slater, are you?" says he.
"I'm only sure that's what he said," says I. "But you can settle thatsoon enough. There he is, over there by the window."
"Why!" says Mr. Robert. "That can never be Melly; that is, unless he'schanged wonderfully." With that he marches up and taps the object onthe shoulder. "I say," says he, "you're not really Melly Slater, areyou?"
There's a quick shiver runs through the man against the rail, and helifts his eyes up cringin', like he expected to be hit with a club.Mr. Robert takes one look, and it almost staggers him. Next he reachesout, gets a firm grip on the gent's collar, and drags him out into abetter light, twistin' the whiskered face up for a close inspection.
"Blashford!" says he, hissin' it out unpleasant. "Bunny Blashford!"
"No, no!" says the gent, tryin' to squirm away. "You--you've made amistake."
"Not much!" says Mr. Robert. "I know those sneaking eyes of yours toowell."
"All right," says he; "but--but don't hit me, Bob. Don't."
"You--you cur!" says Mr. Robert, holding him at arm's length andglarin' at him hostile.
"A ringer, eh?" says I.
"Worse than that," says Mr. Robert, "a sneaking, contemptible hound!Trying to pass yourself off for Melly, were you?" he goes on. "Of allmen, Melly! What for?"
"I--I didn't wa
nt you to know I was back," whines Bunny. "And I had toget money somehow, Bob--honest, I did."
"Bah!" says Mr. Robert. "You--you----"
But he ain't got any such vocabulary as old Hickory Ellins has; sohere, when he needs it most, all he can do is express his deep disgustby shakin' this Bunny party like a new hired girl dustin' a rug. Hejerks him this way and that so reckless that I was afraid he'd rattlehim apart, and when he fin'lly lets loose Bunny goes all in a heap onthe sidewalk. I'd never seen Mr. Robert get real wrathy before; butit's all over in a minute, and he glances around like he was ashamed.
"Hang it all!" says he, gazin' at the wreck. "I didn't mean to lay myhands on him."
"He's in punk condition," says I. "What's to be done, call anambulance?"
That jars Mr. Robert a lot. I expect he was so worked up he didn'tknow how rough he was handlin' him, and my suggestin' that he'squalified Bunny for a cot sobers him down in a minute. Next thing Iknows he's kneelin' over the Blashford gent and liftin' his head up.
"Here, what's the matter with you?" says Mr. Robert.
"Don't! Don't strike me again," moans Bunny, cringin'.
"No, no, I'm not going to," says Mr. Robert. "And I apologize forshaking you. But what ails you?"
"I--I'm all in," says Bunny, beginnin' to sniffle. "Don't--don't beatme! I--I'm going to die; but--but not here, like--like this. I--Idon't want to live; but--but I don't want to finish this way, like arat. Help me, Bob, to--to finish decent. I know I don't deserve itfrom you; but--but you wouldn't want to see me go like this--dirty andragged? I--I want to die clean and--and well dressed. Please, Bob,for old time's sake?"
"Nonsense, man!" says Mr. Robert. "You're not going to die now."
"Yes, I am, Bob," says Bunny. "I--I can tell. I want to, anyway.I--I'm no good. And I'm in rotten shape. Drink, you know, and I've abad heart. I'm near starved too. It's been days since I've eatenanything--days!"
"By George!" says Mr. Robert. "Then you must have something to eat.Here, let me help you up. Torchy, you take the other side. Steady,now! I didn't know you were in such a condition; really, I didn't.And we'll get you filled up right away."
"I--I couldn't eat," says Bunny. "I don't want anything. I just wantto quit--only--not like this; but clean, Bob, clean and dressed decentonce more."
Say, maybe you can guess about how cheerin' it was, hearin' him saythat over and over in that whiny, tremblin' voice of his, watchin' themshifty, deep-set eyes glisten glassy under the light. About ascomfortin' a sight, he was, as a sick dog in a corner. And of all therummy ideas to get in his nut--that about bein' dressed up to die! Buthe keeps harpin' away on it until fin'ly Mr. Robert takes notice.
"Yes, yes!" says the boss. "We'll attend to that, old man. But youneed some nourishment in you first."
So we drags him over to the opposite corner, where there's a drugstore,and got a glass of hot milk under his vest. Then I calls a taxi, andwe all starts for the nearest Turkish bath joint.
"That's all, Torchy," says Mr. Robert. "I won't bother you any morewith this wretched business. You'd best go now."
"Suppose something happens to him?" says I. "You'll need a witness,won't you?"
"I hadn't thought of that," says he.
"There's no tellin'," says I. "Them coroners deputies are mostlyboneheads. I'd better stay on the job."
"I know of no one I'd rather have, Torchy," says he.
Course, he was stretchin' it there. But we fixes it up that whileBunny is bein' soaked out I'll have time to pluck some eats. MeanwhileMr. Robert will 'phone his man to dig out one of his old dress suits,with fixin's, which I'm to collect and have waitin' for Blashford.
"Better have him barbered some too, hadn't I?" says I.
"A lot," says Mr. Robert, slippin' me a couple of tens for expenses."And when he's all ready call me at the club."
So, take it all around, I has quite some busy evenin'. I stayed longenough to see Bunny wrapped in a sheet and helped into the steam-room,and then I hustles out for a late dinner. It's near nine-thirty beforeI rings Mr. Robert up again, and reports that Bunny would pass a Boardof Health inspection now that he's had the face herbage removed, thathe's costumed proper and correct, and that he's decided not to dieimmediate.
"Very well," says Mr. Robert. "What does he want to do now?"
"He wants to talk to you," says I.
"The deuce he does!" says Mr. Robert. "Well, I suppose we might aswell have it out; so bring him up here."
That's how it happens I'm rung in on this little club corner chat; forMr. Robert explains that whatever passes between 'em it might be aswell to have someone else hear.
And, say, what a diff'rence a little outside upholstery can make, eh?The steamin' out had helped some, I expect, and a couple more glassesof hot milk had braced him up too; but blamed if I'd expect just ashave and a few open-face clothes could change a human ruin into such aperky lookin' gent as this that leans back graceful against the leathercushions and lights up one of Mr. Robert's imported cigarettes.Course, the eye hollows hadn't been filled in, nor the face wrinklesironed out; but somehow they only gives him a sort of a distinguishedlook. And now that his shoulders ain't slumped, and he's holdin' hischin up once more, he's almost ornamental. He don't even seemembarrassed at meetin' Mr. Robert again. If anyone was fussed, it wasthe boss.
"Well?" says he, as we gets settled in the cozy corner.
"Seems natural as life here; eh, Bob?" says Bunny, glancin' aroundapprovin'. "And it's nearly four years since I--er----"
"Since you were kicked out," adds Mr. Robert. "See here, Bunny--justbecause I've helped you out of the gutter when I thought you were halfdead, don't run away with the idea that I've either forgotten orforgiven!"
"Oh, quite so," says he. "I'm not asking that."
"Then you've no excuse," goes on Mr. Robert, "for the sneaking,cowardly way in which you left little Sally Slater waiting in herbridal gown, the house full of wedding guests, while you ran off withthat unspeakable DeBrett person?"
"No," says Bunny, flippin' his cigarette ashes off jaunty, "no excuseworthy of the name."
"Cad!" says Mr. Robert.
Bunny shrugs his shoulders. "Precisely," says he. "But you are notmaking the discovery for the first time, are you? You knew Sally wasfar too good for me. Everyone did, even Brother Melly. It couldn'thave been much of a secret to either of you how deep I was with theDeBrett too. Yet you wanted me to go on with Sally. Why? Because thegovernor hadn't chucked me overboard then, because I could still keepup a front?"
"You might have taken a brace," says Mr. Robert.
"Not I!" says Bunny. "Anyway, not after Trixie DeBrett got hold of me.The trouble was, Bob, you didn't half appreciate her. She had beauty,brains, wit, a thousand fascinations, and no more soul than a she boaconstrictor. I was just a rabbit to her, a meal. She thought thegovernor would buy her off, say, for a couple hundred thousand or so.I suppose he would too, if it hadn't been for the Sally complication.He thought a lot of little Sally. And the way it happened was too raw.I don't blame him, mind you, nor any of you. I don't even blameTrixie. That was her game. And, by Jove! she was a star at it. I'dgo back to her now if she'd let me."
"You're a fool!" snorts Mr. Robert.
"Always was, my dear Bob," says Bunny placid. "You often told me asmuch."
"But I didn't think," goes on Mr. Robert, "you'd get as low as--astonight--begging!"
"Quite respectable for me, I assure you," says Bunny. "Why, my dearfellow, during the last few years there's been hardly a crime on thecalendar I shouldn't have committed for a dollar--barring murder, ofcourse. That requires nerve. How long do you suppose the fewthousands I got from Aunt Eunice lasted? Barely six months. I thoughtI knew how to live rather luxuriously myself. But Trixie! Well, shetaught me. And we were in Paris, you know. I didn't cable thegovernor until I was down to my last hundred-franc note. His reply wassomething of a stinger. I showed it to Trixie. S
he just laughed andwent out for a drive. She didn't come back. I hear she picked up abrewer's son at Monte Carlo. Lucky devil, he was!
"And I? What would you expect? In less than two weeks I was astowaway on a French liner. They routed me out and set me to stoking.I couldn't stand that, of course; so they put me to work in thekitchens, cleaning pots, dumping garbage, waiting on the crew. I hadto make the round trip too. Then I jumped the stinking craft, only toget a worse berth on a P. & O. liner. I worked with Chinese, Lascars,coolies, the scum of the earth; worked and ate and slept and foughtwith them. I crawled ashore and deserted in strange ports. I think itwas at Aden where I came nearest to starving the first time. And Iremember the docks at Alexandria. Sometimes the tourists threw downcoppers for the Arab and Berber boys to scrabble for. It's a pleasantcustom. I was there, in that scrabbling, cursing, clawing rabble. Andwhen I'd had a good day I spent my coppers royally in a nativedance-hall which even guides don't dare show to the trippers.
"Respectability, my dear Bob, is all a matter of comparison. Iacquired a lot of new standards. As a second cabin steward on a Brazosliner I became quite haughty. Poverty! You don't know what it meansuntil you've rubbed elbows with it in the Far East and the Far South.Here you have the Bowery Mission bread line. That's a fair sample,Bob, of our American opulence. Free bread!"
"So you've been in that, have you?" asks Mr. Robert.
"Have I?" says Bunny. "I've pals down there tonight who will wonderwhat has become of me."
Mr. Robert shudders. And, say, it made me feel chilly along the spinetoo.
"Well, what now?" says Mr. Robert. "I suppose you expect me to findyou some sort of work?"
"Not at all," says Bunny. "Another of those cigarettes, if you don'tmind. Excellent brand. Thanks. But work? How inconsiderate, Bob! Iwasn't born to be useful. You know that well enough. No, work doesn'tappeal to me."
Mr. Robert flushes up at that. "Then," says he, pointin' stern,"there's the door."
"Oh, what's the hurry?" says Bunny. "This is heaven to me, allthis,--the old club, you know, and good tobacco, and--say, Bob, if Imight suggest, a pint of that '85 vintage would add just the finishingtouch. Come, I haven't tasted a glass of fizz since--well, I'veforgotten. Just for auld lang syne!"
Mr. Robert gasps, hesitates a second, and then pushes the button.Bunny inspects the label critical when it's brought in, waves gracefulto Mr. Robert, and slides the bottle back tender into the cooler.
"Ah-h-h!" says he. "And doesn't Henri have any more of those daintylittle caviar canapes on hand? They go well with fizz."
"Canapes," says Mr. Robert to the waiter. "And another box of thosegold-tipped Russians."
"_A vous_!" says Bunny, raisin' a glassful of bubbles and salutin'."I'm as thirsty as a camel driver."
"But what I'd like to know," says Mr. Robert, "is what you proposedoing."
"You, my dear fellow," says Bunny, settin' down the glass.
"Truly enterprising!" says Mr. Robert. "But you're going to bedisappointed. In just ten minutes I mean to escort you to thesidewalk, and then wash my hands of you for good."
Bunny laughs. "Impossible!" says he. "In the first place, youcouldn't sleep tonight, if you did. Secondly, I should hunt you uptomorrow and make a nuisance of myself."
"You'd be thrown out by a porter," says Mr. Robert.
"Perhaps," says he; "but it wouldn't look nice. I'd be in eveningclothes, you see. The crowd would know at once that I was a gentleman.Reporters would come. I should tell a most harrowing tale. You'd denyit, of course; but half the people would believe me. No, no, Bob!Three hours ago, in my old rags, you might have kicked me into thegutter, and no one would have made any fuss at all. But now! Why, itwould be absurd! I should make a mighty row over it."
"You threaten blackmail?" says Mr. Robert, leanin' towards him savage.
"That is one of my more reputable accomplishments," says Bunny. "Butwhy force me to that? I have quite a reasonable proposal to submit."
"If it has anything to do with getting you so far away from New Yorkthat you'll never come back, I'll listen to it," says Mr. Robert.
"You state the case exactly," says Bunny. "In Paris I got to know achap by the name of Dick Langdon; English, you know, and a younger son.His uncle's a Sir Something or Other. Dick was going the pace. He'dannexed some funds that he'd found lying around loose. Purely a familyaffair; no prosecution. A nice youth, Langdon. We were quitecongenial.
"A year or so ago I ran across him again, down in Santa Marta. He waswearing a sun helmet and a white linen suit. He said he'd been shippeddown there as superintendent of a banana plantation about twenty milesback from the port. He had half a hundred blacks and as many EastIndian coolies under him. There was no one else within miles. Once amonth he got down to see the steamer load and watch the white faceshungrily. I was only a cabin steward leaning over the rail; but he wasso tickled to see me that he begged me to quit and go back to theplantation with him. He said he'd make me assistant superintendent, orpermanent guest, or anything. But I was crazy to see New York oncemore. I wouldn't listen. Well, I've seen New York, seen enough of itto last a lifetime. What do you say?"
"When could you get a steamer?" asks Mr. Robert.
"The Arapequa sails at ten in the morning," says Bunny eager. "Fareforty-eight dollars one way. I could go aboard now. Dick would hailme as a man and a brother. I'm his kind. He'd see that I never hadmoney enough to get away. I think I might possibly earn my keepbossing coolies too. And the pulque down there helps you to forgetyour troubles."
"Torchy," says Mr. Robert, "ask Barney to call a cab."
"And, by the way," Bunny is sayin' as I come back, "you might chuck ina business suit and a few white flannels into a grip, Bob. Youwouldn't want me to arrive in South America dressed like this, wouldyou?"
"Very well," says Mr. Robert. "But what I'm most concerned about isthat you do arrive there."
"But how do you know, Mr. Robert," says I next mornin', "that he will?"
"Because I locked him in his stateroom myself," says he, "and bribed asteward not to let him out until he could see Barnegat light over thestern."
"Gee!" says I. "That's one way of losin' a better days' proposition.And in case any others like him turns up, Mr. Robert, have you got anymore old dress suits?"
"If I have," says he, "I shall burn them."