by Sewell Ford
CHAPTER VIII
Did you shut the hall door? That's right. There's no tellin' what'sliable to float in here any time. Say, if they don't quit it, I'll getto be one of these nervous prostraters, that think themselves sick abedwithout half tryin'. Sure, I'm just convalescin' from the last shock.
How? Now make a guess. Well, it was this way: I was sittin' right herein the front office, readin' the sportin' dope and takin' me reg'larmornin' sunbath, when the door-buzzer goes off, and in drifts about ahundred and ninety pounds of surprise package.
There was a foreign label on it, all right; but I didn't know untillater that it read "Made in Austria." He was a beefy sort of gent, withnot much neck to speak of, and enough curly black hair to shingle aFrench poodle. He was well colored, too. Beats the cars, don't it, thegood health that's wasted on some of these foreigners?
But what takes my eye most was his trousseau. Say! he was dressed to theminute, from the pink in his buttonhole, to the mother-of-pearl gloves;and the back of his frock coat had an in-curve such as your forty-fatsisters dream about. Why, as far as lines went, he had Jimmy Hackett andRobert Mantell on the back shelf. Oh, he was a crusher, sure!
"I have the purpose of finding Prof-fes-seur McCabby," says he, readingit off'n a card.
"If you mean McCabe," says I, "I'm discovered."
"Is it you that are also by the name of Shortee?" says he.
"Shorty for short," says I, "and P. C. D. on the end to lengthen itout--Physical Culture Director, that stands for. Now do you want mythumb-print, and a snap-shot of my family-tree?"
That seemed to stun him a little; but he revived after a minute, threwout his chest, lifted his silk lid, and says, solemn as a new notarypublic takin' the oath of office: "I am Baron Patchouli."
"You look it," says I. "Have a chair."
"I am," says he, gettin' a fresh start, "Baron Patchouli, of Hamstadtand Duesseldorf."
"All right," says I, "take the settee. How are all the folks at home?"
But say, there wa'n't any use tryin' to jolly him into makin' a shortcut of it. He'd got his route of parade all planned out and he meant tostick by it.
"Professeur McCabby--" says he.
"Don't," says I. "You make me feel like I'd been transplanted intoFrench and was runnin' a hack-line. Call it McCabe--a-b-e, abe."
"One thousand pardons," says he, and tries again. This time he getsit--almost, and I lets him spiel away. Oh, mama! but I wish I could sayit the way he did! It would let me on the Proctor circuit, if I could.But boiled down and skimmed, it was all about how I was a kind ofsafety-deposit vault for everything he had to live for.
"My hopes, my fortune, my happiness, the very breath of my living, it isall with you," says he as a windup, hittin' a Caruso pose, arms out,toes in, and his breath comin' hard.
How was that for news from home? I did some swift surmisin', and then Isays, soothin' like: "Yes, I know; but don't take on about it so.They're all right, just as you handed 'em over; only I asked me friendthe Sarge to lock 'em up till you called. We'll walk around and see theSarge right away."
"Ah!" says he, battin' his noble brow, "you do not comprehend. You maketo laugh. And me, I come to you from the adorable Sadie."
"Sadie?" says I. "Sadie Sullivan that was?"
He bows and grins.
"If you've got credentials from Sadie," says I, "it's all right. Now,what's doing? Does she want me to match samples, or show you the sightsalong the White Lane?"
"Ah, the adorable Sadie!" says he, rollin' his eyes, and puffin' out hischeeks like he was tryin' the lung-tester. "I drive with her, I walkwith her, I sit by her side--one day, two day, a week. Well, whathappens? I am charm, I am fascinate, I am become her slave. I make toresist. I say to myself: 'You! You are of the noble Austrian blood; thesecond-cousin of your mother is a grand duke; you must not forget.' Thenagain I see Sadie. Pouff! I have no longer pride; but only I luff. It isenough. I ask of her: 'Madam Deepworth, where is the father of you?' Shesay he is not. 'Then the uncle of you?' I demand. She say: 'I'm shy onuncles.' 'But to who, then,' I ask, 'must I declare my honorablepassion?' 'Oh,' she say, 'tell it to Shorty McCabe.' Ha! I leap, Ibound! I go to M. Pinckney. 'Tell me,' I say, 'where is to be found oneShorty McCabe?' And he sends me to you. I am come."
On the level, now, it went like that. Maybe I've left out some of thefrills, but that was the groundwork of his remarks.
"Yes," says I, "you're a regular come-on. I guess the adorable Sadie hashanded you a josh. She's equal to it."
But that got by him. He just stood there, teeterin' up and down on hispatent leathers, and grinnin' like a monkey.
"I say," says I, "she's run you on a sidin', dropped you down acoal-hole. Do you get wise?"
Did he? Not so you would notice it. He goes on grinnin' and teeterin',like he was on exhibition in a museum and I was the audience. Then hegets a view of himself in the glass over the safe there, and begins topat down his astrakhan thatch, and punch up his puff tie, and dust offhis collar. Ever see one of these peroxide cloak models doin' a marchpast the show windows on her day off? Well, the Baron had all thosemotions and a few of his own. He was ornamental, all right, and itwa'n't any news to him either.
About then, though, I begins to wonder if I hadn't been a little toosure about Sadie. There's no tellin', when it comes to women, you know;and when it hit me that perhaps, after all, she'd made up her mind totag this one from Austria, you could have fried an egg on me anywhere.
"Look here, Patchouli," says I. "Is this straight about you and Sadie?Are you the winner?"
"Ah, the adorable Sadie!" says he, comin' back to earth and slappin' hissolar plexus with one hand.
"We've covered that ground," says I. "What I want to know is, does shecotton to you?"
"Cot-_ton_? Cot-_ton_?" says he, humpin' his eyebrows like a Frenchballad singer.
"Are you the fromage?" says I. "Is she as stuck on you as you are onyourself? Have you made good?"
He must have got a glimmer from that; for he rolls his eyes some more,breathes once like an air-brake bein' cut out, and says: "Our luff islike twin stars in the sky--each for the other shines."
"It's as bad as all that, is it?" says I. "Well, all I've got to say isthat I'd never thought it of Sadie; and if she sent you down here onapproval, you can tell her I'm satisfied if she is."
I figured that would jar him some, but it didn't. He looked as pleasedas though I'd told him he was the ripest berry in the box, and before Iknew what was comin' he had the long-lost-brother tackle on me, and wasalmost weepin' on my neck, splutterin' joy in seven different kinds oflanguage. Just then Swifty Joe bobs his head in through the gym. door,springs that gorilla grin of his, and ducks back.
"Break away!" says I. "I don't want to spoil the looks of anythin' thatSadie's picked out to frame, but this thing has gone about far enough.If you're glad, and she's glad, then I ain't got any kick comin'. Onlydon't rub it in."
He had the long-lost-brother tackle on me.]
Say, it was like talkin' to a deaf man, sayin' things to the Baron.
"She's mine, yes?" says he. "I have your permission, Professeur McCabe?"
"Sure," says I. "If she'll have you, take her and welcome."
Now you'd thought that would have satisfied him, wouldn't you? But heacted like he'd got a half-arm jolt on the wind. He backed off andcooled down as if I'd chucked a pail of water over him.
"Well," says I, "you don't want it in writin', do you? I'm just out ofpermit blanks, and me secretary's laid up with a bad case of McGrawitis.If I was you, I'd skip back and keep my eye on Sadie. She might changeher mind."
The Baron thought he'd seen a red flag, though. He put in a worry periodthat lasted while you could count fifty. Then he forks out his trouble.
"It is not possible that I have mistake, is it?" says he. "I am learnthat Madam Deepworth is--what you call--one heiress? No?"
See? I'd been sort of lookin' for that; and there it was, as plain as areal-estate map of Gates of Pa
radise, Long Island. Me bein' so free andeasy with tellin' him to help himself had thrown up a horrible suspicionto him. Was it true that Sadie's roll was real money, the kind youcould spend at the store? And say, long's it was up to me to write herprospectus, I thought I might as well make it a good one.
"Do you see that movin'-van out there?" says I.
The Baron saw it.
"And have you been introduced to these?" I says, flashin' a big,wrist-size wad of tens and fives.
Oh, he was acquainted all right.
"Well," says I, "Sadie's got enough of these put away to fill two cartslike that."
Fetch him? Why, his fingers almost burnt a hole through his gloves.
"Ah-h-h!" says he, and takes a little time out to picture himselfdippin' into the family pocket-book.
Course, it wa'n't any of my funeral, but when I thinks of a sure-enoughlive one, like Sadie, that I'd always supposed had a head like abilliard table, gettin' daffy about any such overstuffed frankfurter asthis specimen, I felt like someone had shoved a blue quarter on me.Worst of it was, I'd held the step-ladder for her to climb up where suchthings grow.
I was gettin' rawer to the touch every minute, and was tryin' to make upmy mind whether to give the Baron a quick run down the stairs, or gooff an' leave him to dislocate his neck tryin' to see the small of hisback in the mirror; when in comes Pinckney, with that little sparkle inhis eyes that I've come to know means any kind of sport you're a mind toname.
"Hello!" says he, givin' the Baron a hand. "You found him, eh? Hello,Shorty. Got it all fixed, have you?"
"Say," says I, pullin' Pinckney over by the window, "did you put this upon me?"
He said he didn't, honest.
"Then take your fat friend by the hand," says I, "and lead him off wherethings ain't liable to happen to him."
"Why, what's up, Shorty?" says he. "Haven't you given him your blessing,and told him to go in and win?"
"Switch off!" says I. "I've heard enough of that from the Baron to lastme a year. What's it all about, anyway? Suppose he has laid his plans toMiznerize Sadie; what's he want to come hollerin' about it to me for?I'm no matrimonial referee, am I?"
I knew somethin' was ticklin' Pinckney inside; but he put up a frontlike a Special Sessions judge. "Baron," says he, callin' over toPatchouli, "I forgot to mention that our friend, the professor, doesn'tunderstand the European system of conducting such affairs as this. Ifyou'll pardon me, I'll make it clear to him."
Well, he did and a lot more. It seems that the Baron was a ringer in theset where Sadie and Pinckney had been doing the weekend house-partyact. He'd been travelin' on that handle of his, makin' some broad jumpsand quick shifts, until he'd worked himself up, from a visitor's card ata second-rate down-town club, to the kind of folks that quit New York atEaster and don't come back until the snow flies again. They don't squinttoo close at a title in that crowd, you know.
First thing the Baron hears, of course, is about the Drowsy Drop dollarsand the girl that's got 'em. He don't lose any time after that in makin'up to Sadie. He freezes to her like a Park Row wuxtree boy does to aturkey drumstick at a newsies' Christmas dinner, and for Pinckney andthe rest of 'em it was as good as a play.
"Huh!" says I. "You're easy pleased, ain't you? But I want to tell youthat it grouches me a lot to think that Sadie'd fall for any suchwad-huntin' party as that."
"What ho!" says Pinckney. "Here's a complication that we hadn'tsuspected."
"Meanin' which?" says I.
"Perhaps it would be better to postpone that explanation," says he;"but I sympathize with your state of mind, Shorty. However, what's doneis done, and meanwhile the Baron is waiting."
"It wouldn't surprise me none," says I, "to hear that that's his trade.But say, what kind of a steer is it that brings him to me? I ain't gotthat straight yet."
Pinckney goes on to say as how the foreign style of negotiatin' for agirl is more or less of a business proposition; and that Sadie, nothavin' any old folks handy to make the deal, and maybe not havin' thegame clear in her own mind, shoves him my way, just off-hand.
"To be sure," says Pinckney, "whatever arrangements you may happen tomake will not be binding, but they will satisfy the Baron. So just actas if you had full authority, and we'll see if there are any littledetails that he wants to mention."
Sure enough, there was. He handed 'em to me easy; oh, nice and easy! Hedidn't want much for a starter--just a trifle put within easy reachbefore the knot was tied, a mere matter of ten million francs.
"No Jims nor Joes?" says I.
"The Baron is accustomed to reckoning in francs," says Pinckney. "Hemeans two million dollars."
"Two million cases?" says I, catchin' my breath. Well, say! I had totake another look at him. If I could think as well of myself as that Iwouldn't ask no better.
"Patchouli," says I, "you're too modest. You shouldn't put yourself onthe bargain counter like that."
The Baron looks like I'd said somethin' to him in Chinese.
"The professor thinks that demand is quite reasonable, considering allthings," says Pinckney.
And that went with the Baron. Then he has to shake hands all round,same's if we'd signed terms for a championship go, and him and Pinckneygets under way for some private high-ball factory over on the avenue. Iwa'n't sorry to lose 'em. Somehow I wanted to get my mind on somethingelse.
Well, I put in a busy mornin', tryin' to teach blocks and jabs to acouple of youngsters that thinks boxin' is a kind of wrist exercise,like piano-playin', and I'd got a pound or so off a nice plump oldBishop, who comes here for hand-ball and stunts like that. I was stillfeelin' a bit ugly and wishin' there was somethin' sizable around totake it out on, when in comes Curly Locks and Pinckney again.
"Has he made up his mind that he wants my wad, too?" says I to Pinckney.
"No," says he. "The Baron has discovered that up where Sadie is stayingthe law requires a prospective bridegroom to equip himself with amarriage license. He thinks he will get one in town and take it backwith him. Now, as you know all about such things, Shorty, and as I havean appointment at twelve-thirty, I'll leave the Baron with you. Solong!" and he gives me the wink as he slides out.
Say, I had my cue this trip, all right. I couldn't see just why it was,but the Baron had been passed up to me. He was mine for keeps. I couldhang him out for a sign, or wire a pan to him. And he was as innocent,the Baron was, as a new boy sent to the harness shop after strap oil.He'd got his eyes fixed on the Drowsy Drops bank-account, and hecouldn't see anything else. He must have sized me up as a sort of SantaClaus that didn't have anything to do between seasons but to be good tohis kind.
"So you want to take out a license, do you?" says I, comin' a Mr. Smoothplay.
"If the professeur would be so oblige," says he.
"Oh, sure," says I. "That's my steady job. A marriage license, eh?"
I had a nineteenth-story view of the scheme he'd built up. He means togo back heeled with the permit from me, with the little matter of thetwo million ready all cinched, and the weddin'-papers in his insidepocket. Then he does the whirlwind rush at Sadie, and as he dopes it outto himself, figurin' on what a crusher he is, he don't see how he canlose. And I suppose he thinks he can buy a marriage license mostanywhere, same's you can a money-order.
With that I had a stroke of thought. They don't hit me very often, butwhen they do, they come hard. I had to go over to the water cooler andgrin into the tumbler. Then I walks up to the Baron and taps him on thechest.
"Patchouli," says I, "you come with me. I'll get you a Romeo outfitthat'll astonish the natives."
It took me about two hours, chasin' him down to the Bureau of Licenses,and huntin' up me old side partner, Jimmy Fitzpatrick, that's the mainguy there. But I didn't grudge the time. Jimmy helped me out a lot. He'sa keen one, Jimmy is, and when he'd got next, he threw in a lot offlourishes just where they was needed most. He never cracked a smile,either, when the Baron tipped him a dime.
I didn't let loose of Patch
ouli until I'd seen him stow away that sealedenvelope, and had put him aboard the right train at the Grand Central.Then I went back to the Studio lookin' so contented that Swifty struckme for a raise.
That was on a Monday. Long about Thursday I thought I might get wordfrom Pinckney, or some of 'em; but there was nothin' doin'.
"Somebody's put Curly Locks wise," thinks I, "or else he's sneaked awayto jump off the dock."
I didn't have anyone on that afternoon; so I was just workin' off alittle steam on a punchin'-bag, doing the long roll and a few otherstunts. I was getting nicely warmed up, and hittin' the balloon at therate of about a hundred and fifty raps a minute, when I hears somebodybreak past Swifty and roar out:
"Where he iss? Let me to him!"
It was the Baron, his mustache bristlin' out like a bottle-cleaner, andblood in his eye. "Ha-r-r-r!" says he in real heavy-villain style. "Youmake me a joke, you?"
"G'wan!" says I over me shoulder. "You was born a joke. Sit down andcool off; for it's your next," and with that I goes at the bag again.
Say, it ain't much of a trick to fight the bag, y'know. Most anyY. M. C. A. kid can get the knack of catchin' it on his elbows andcollarbone, makin' it drum out a tune like the finish of a Dutch opera.And that's about all I was doin', only chuckin' a few extra pounds intoit maybe. But if you don't know how easy it is, it looks like acurtain-raiser for manslaughter. And I reckon the Baron hadn't any ideaI'd strip as bunchy as I do.
Course, there's no tellin' just what went on in his mind while he stoodthere. Swifty says his mouth come open gradual, like a bridge drawthat's being swung for a tug; and his eyes began to bug out, and thenoble Austrian assault-and-battery blood faded out of his face same'sthe red does in one of Belasco's sunsets. And pretty soon, when Ithought my little grandstand play'd had a chance to sink in, I throws agood stiff one into the bag, ducks from under, and turns around to singout "Next!" to the Baron.
But he wa'n't in sight. Pinckney was there though, and Sadie behind him,both lookin' wild.
"Hello!" says I. "Where's Patchouli? He was anxious to see me a minuteago."
"He seemed anxious not to, when he passed us on the stairs just now,"says Pinckney.
"Did he leave any word?" says I.
"He just said 'Bah!' and jumped into a cab," says Pinckney.
"He didn't hurt you, did he?" says Sadie.
"What, him?" says I. "Not that I know about. But I've got this to tellyou, Mrs. Dipworthy: if you put any high value on your new steady,you'd better chase him off this reservation."
"Why, Shorty McCabe!" says she, takin' me by the shoulders and turnin'them blue eyes of hers straight at me. "My new steady? That--thatwoolly-haired freak?"
Say, you could have slipped me into the penny slot of a gum machine. Oh,fudge! Piffle! Splash! It's a wonder when I walk I don't make a noiselike a sponge--I take some things in so easy. Is it curious my headnever aches?
Pinckney sees how bad I was feelin', and he cuts in to tell me howthings had worked out. And say, do you know what that Patchouli haddone?
After I left him he goes back tickled to death, and waits for anopenin'. Then, one night when they was havin' a big hunt ball, or somekind of swell jinks, he tolls Sadie into the palm-room, drops to the maton his knees, and fires off that twin-star-luff speech, beggin' her tofly with him and be his'n. As a capper he digs up that envelop, to showher there needn't be any hitch in the program.
"What's this?" says Sadie, making a sudden grab and gettin' the goods.With that she lets go a string of giggles and streaks it out into theball-room.
"It is the document of our marriage," says the Baron, makin' a boldbluff.
"Oh, is it?" says she, openin' the thing up, and reading it off. "Why,Baron, this doesn't give you leave to marry anyone," says Sadie; "thisis a peddler's license, and here's the badge, too. If you wear this youcan stand on the corner and sell shoe-laces and collar-buttons. I'dadvise you to go do it."
It was while the crowd was howlin' and pinnin' the fakir's tag on himthat he began to froth at the mouth and tell how he was comin' down tomake mincemeat of me.
"That's why we followed him," says Pinckney--"to avert bloodshed."
"If he had so much as touched you, Shorty," says Sadie, "I would havespent my pile to have had him sent up for life."
"Oh, it wouldn't have cost that much," says I. "With me thinkin' the wayI did then, maybe there wouldn't have been a whole lot left to send."
Ah, look away! I ain't tellin' what Sadie did next. But say, she's ahummin'-bird, Sadie is.