by Sewell Ford
CHAPTER VI
HOW MILLIE SHOOK THE JINX
Kind of odd the way the Morans and Elisha Porter Bayne coincided. You'dthink so if you could see 'em bunched once; for Elisha P. is a mightyfine man; you know, one of our most prominent and highly respectedcitizens. Everybody says so. The local weekly always prints it that way.Besides, he's president of the Trust Company, head of the Buildin' andLoan, chairman of the School Board, and a director of such things as theOld Ladies' Home, the Hospital, and the Nut and Bolt Works. Always wearsa black frock coat and a white string tie too,--tall, thin jawed,distinguished lookin' gent.
While the Morans--say, let's put them off as long as we can. And themore we linger in the society of Mr. Bayne the better we ought to be. Upto last spring, I blush to admit, I'd never been favored much. Course,commutin' in and out the way I do, I didn't have a good show. But wepasses the nod when we meets. Elisha P. never strains his neck durin'the exercise. You could detect his nod with the naked eye, though, and Iexpect that was a good deal from him to me. You get the idea. That nodincludes only the Mr. McCabe that owns a shore-front place and votes inRockhurst-on-the-Sound. It don't stretch so far as to take in ShortyMcCabe who runs a Physical Culture Studio on 42d-st. And that's allright too. I'm satisfied.
Then here one day back in April, as I'm drivin' home from the stationwith Sadie, who should step to the curb and hold me up but Mr. Bayne.Does it offhand, friendly, mind you. Course I stops sudden. Sadie bowsand smiles. I lifts my lid. Mr. Bayne holds his square-topped derbyagainst his white shirt front. We shakes hands cordial. And I'm mostgaspin' for breath when it's over.
"Ah, by the way, Mr. McCabe," says he, "about that--er--Sucker Brooktract? Have you thought it over yet?"
Just like that, you know; as if it was something we'd been talkin' aboutfor months, while as a matter of fact this is the first hint I'd hadthat Elisha P. was interested at all.
Not that it hadn't been put up to me. Why, three diff'rent parties hadinterviewed me confidential on the proposition, offerin' to let me in onthe ground floor, and givin' as many diff'rent but more or lessconvincin' reasons for bein' so generous. One explains how he wanted tosee the tract go to some local man instead of New York speculators;another confesses that their little syndicate is swingin' too muchundeveloped property and has got to start a bargain counter; while thethird man slaps me hearty on the back and whispers that he just wants toput me next to a good thing.
I come near swallowin' the bait too; for I'd turned over some Bronxbuildin' lots not long before at a nice little advance, and the kale wasonly drawin' three per cent. Course this Sucker Brook chunk ain't muchto look at, a strip of marshy ground along the railroad; but half a mileaway they're sellin' villa plots, and acreage is mighty scarce so nearthe city line as we are. Took me a week of scoutin' among my friends todiscover that this gang of real estate philanthropists had bought up theSucker Brook tract on a private tip that a trolley extension was goin'to be put through there. So it might have been too, only a couple of theCounty Board members who was tryin' to pull off another deal got busyand blocked the franchise. Then it was a case of unload, with me runnin'as favorite in the Easy Mark Handicap. And now here comes Elisha P.,straight out of the Trust Company, to spring the trapdoor himself.
"Why, yes, Mr. Bayne," says I. "I've chewed it over some; but I ain'tquite made up my mind to take it on."
"You haven't!" says he, his nice, white, respectable eyebrows showin'great surprise. "But, my dear man, I personally had that offer made toyou. Why, we could have---- But never mind that. I hope you may see fitto give us your answer by Saturday noon."
"That depends," says I, "on whether you come for it or not."
"I beg pardon?" says he, starin'.
"At the studio," says I, shovin' over one of my professional cards."That's where I do business. So long, Mr. Bayne." And with that I throwsin the clutch and leaves him gawpin'!
"Why, Shorty!" says Sadie. "How horrid of you! And Mr. Bayne is such anice old gentleman too!"
"Yes, ain't he?" says I. "And for smoothness he's got a greased planklookin' like a graveled walk."
I didn't think he'd come after that. But the other lines they had outmust have been hauled in empty; for not ten days later I has a 'phonecall from him sayin' he's in town and that if it's convenient he'll droparound about three P.M.
"I'll be here," says I.
"And I trust," he adds, "that I--er--may not encounter any pugilistsor--er----"
"You'll be safe," says I, "unless some of my Wall Street customers breakoffice rules and try to ring you in on a margin deal. Outside of them,or now and then a railroad president, the studio has a quiet, refinedpatronage."
"Ah, thanks," says he.
"Swifty," says I to my assistant, "don't show yourself in the frontoffice after three to-day. I'm goin' to entertain a pillar of society,and a sight of that mug of yours might get him divin' through thewindow."
"Ahr-r-r-r chee!" remarks Swifty Joe, catchin' the wink.
Course, I might have got real peevish over Mr. Bayne's suspicions, andtold him to go chase himself; but I'm feelin' sort of good-humored thatday. Besides, thinks I, it won't do any harm to show him just howpeaceful and respectable a physical culture studio can be. You know theideas some people get. And as a rule our floor here is the quietest inthe buildin'. I knew it would be that day specially; for all we had onthe slate was a couple of poddy old parties who'd be workin' away at theapparatus, havin' about as strenuous a time as a baby playin' with itstoes.
But I hadn't counted in that Sieger & Bloom combination, up on thefourth. They run a third-rate theatrical agency, you know, and justabout then they was fillin' out contracts for summer snaps, and what yousaw driftin' up and down the stairs didn't make you yearn to be avaudeville actor. So later on, when I heard an argument in progress outin the hall, I glances nervous at the clock. It's almost on the tick ofthree.
"Hey, cut out the riot!" I calls through the transom; but as there's noletup to the debate I strolls over to the door, prepared to reprovesomeone real severe.
It's quite some spirited scene out on the landin'. There's old manBloom, a short, squatty, fish-eyed old pirate with a complexion likesour dough. He has one foot on the next flight, and seems to beretreatin' as he waves his pudgy hands and sputters. Followin' him up isa tall, willowy, black-eyed young woman in a giddy Longchamps creationdirect from Canal-st. She's pleadin' earnest that Bloom mustn't forgethe's talkin' to a lady. Behind her is a husky, red-haired young gentwith his fingers bunched menacin'; while just below, hesitatin' whetherto push through the hostilities or beat it back to the street, is ElishaP. Bayne, Esq.
"Give us a show to make good, that's all we ask," the young woman issayin'. "Put us on somewhere, as you said you would when you took ourmoney."
"Bah!" snorts old Bloom. "I vouldn't sign you for a Third-ave. cabaret.Your act is rotten. A pair of cheab skaters, you are--cheab skaters!"
"Oh, we are, are we?" explodes the young woman. Then, biff! out flashesone of her long arms, and the next thing Bloom knows his silk lid hasbeen smashed down over his eyes.
"Helb! Helb!" he squeals. "Bolice! I vill ged the bolice after you."With that he makes a break past her and goes waddlin' downstairs on therun.
"Now I've done it, I reckon," says the young woman. "And that aboutfinishes us, Timothy dear. He's after a cop."
"Yes, and he'll bring one back," I puts in, "or I don't know Abie Bloom.About five and costs will be the bill. But it ought to be worth it."
"It would, every cent," says she, "if we had the five."
"In that case," says I, "you'd better do a sudden duck."
"But where to!" says she, glancin' desperate down the stairs.
And, say, the thought of how comic old Bloom looked strugglin' out ofhis hat, and of how eager he'd be to get her sent to the Island for it,was too much for me.
"In here," says I, steppin' out of the studio door. "You too," and Imotions to the red-haired gent. Then, turnin' to Elisha P., I g
oes on,"Better join the group, Mr. Bayne."
"But, you know," he protests, "this is the very thing I wished to avoid.I do not care to mingle with such--er----"
"I expect not," says I; "but if you stay here you'll be gathered in as awitness to the assault. Course, if you'd rather do that--why----"
"No, no!" says he. "I--I think I will step in, for a moment at least."
He made up his mind just in time; for I'd no sooner herded the bunchinto the front office and locked the door than we hears Bloom towin'the cop up the stairs and describin' puffy how he'd been most murdered.We listens while they searches the hallways clear to the top, and thenhears the cop trampin' down again. He calls back to Bloom that he'llkeep an eye out for the female assaulter.
"That's Roundsman Foley," says I, "and he's got a four-mile beat tocover between now and five o'clock. Inside of twenty minutes he'll beblocks away. Might as well sit down, Folks."
"Say, Mister," speaks up the young woman, "I don't know who you are, butwe're much obliged. Tim, speak up."
Timothy wanted to; but he ain't an easy converser, and the languageseems to clog his tongue.
"Don't mention it," says I. "I ain't got any personal grudge against Mr.Bloom; but I've been achin' to see someone hand him a pat, just forgreens. There's my name on the door."
"Oh!" says the young woman. "Then you're Professor McCabe? Well, we'rethe Morans, Millie and Tim. Tango is our line."
I can see Elisha P. shudder visible at that. He hesitates a second, andthen comes to the front. "McCabe," says he, "I feel that I must protest.An assault was committed in your presence. As a law-abiding citizen itshould be your duty to turn the offender over to the authoritiesinstead of furnishing a hiding place."
"Now listen to that!" says I. "All right, Mr. Bayne, if you insist. Butyou go along as a witness too."
"In a police court!" he gasps. "Why--really, you know, I--I couldn't dosuch a thing."
"Case quashed then," says I. "I'm too bashful to go alone."
"But you know," says he, "I came here merely on a matter of business."
"Yes, we'll get to that pretty soon," says I. "Our friends here are onlygoin' to stop until the travelin' is safer." Then I turns to the Morans."Dancers, eh!" says I. "Where have you been on?"
"Nowhere," says Millie. "We're tryin' to break in."
"Oh!" says I. "Candidates for amateur night?"
"Not much!" says Millie. "We're as good as any. Maurice ain't got athing on us, honest; nor that Ripple combination, either. Why, we gotsteps of our own that the rest haven't thought of!"
"Ye-e-es?" says I.
"Oh, I know," says she, shruggin' her shoulders. "Maybe we don't lookit; but, say, we've got the goods."
"Case of undiscovered genius, eh?" says I.
Millie flushes a little at that; but bites her lips to keep back thehot retort. Bright lookin' girl, Millie; and if she hadn't been costumedso vivid she wouldn't have been such a bad looker. But in that tight,striped dress with the slashed skirt, and that foolish lid with the twoskimpy pink feathers curlin' over the back--well, believe me, she wassome zippy!
"Say, lemme tell you how it happened, won't you?" says she.
"If it ain't too long," says I.
"I'll make it sketchy," says she. "In the first place, when I landedhere in New York about a year and a half ago, I'd made up my mind toconnect with big money. I didn't know exactly how; the stage, maybe.Anyway, I knew the coin was here, and that it wasn't in Saskatoon."
"Sass--which?" says I.
"Saskatoon," says she. "It's on the map, up in Saskatchewan, you know.No, I wasn't born there. Hardly anybody was. It's too new. I went therewith Mother and Brother Phil when the Northwest boom first started. Itwas all right for Philip. He could do surveying, and then he got todipping into real estate. But there was no chance for me; so I startedfor the white lights. While I was looking around here I took on anythingthat would furnish a meal ticket. Oh, you can't starve Millie! I didfancy ironin' in a hand laundry, was window demonstrator for an electricvibrator concern, did a turn as a dress model, and sold soda checks ina drugstore. They don't load you down on payday in any of them places;but that didn't worry me. I was sizing up the good things, and I'd aboutdecided on the front row of a musical comedy for mine, when what did Ihave to go and do but get soft on Tim here!"
Tim blushes embarrassed and scrapes his hoof.
"Enough to wreck most any career, wasn't it?" goes on Millie. "Think ofit! Me, who'd come down to New York with my head so full of ambitionsthere wasn't any room to catch cold, and then in a little over a year togo and marry the first good-natured Irishman that asked me! You see, I'monly half Irish myself,--Mother was Argentine Spanish,--which makes meso different from Tim. Look at him! Would you dream he had a bit ofsense? But he's--oh, he's Tim, that's all. And not many of 'em comebetter. Driving a motor truck, he was, and satisfied at that. It was upat a Terrace Garden dance we got acquainted. No music at all in hishead; but in his feet--say, he just naturally has to let his toes followthe tune, and if ragtime hadn't been invented he'd have walked slow allhis life. And me? Well, I ought to dance, with Father a born fiddler,and Mother brought up with castanets in her hands. We danced twelve ofthe fourteen numbers together that night, and I never even noticed hehad red hair. I'd been dying to dance for months. Some partner, Tim wastoo. That began it. We joined a class and started learning the newsteps. And almost before I knew it I was Mrs. Moran. We'd been marriednearly a month before I woke up to what a fool thing I'd done. There Iwas, tryin' to feed and clothe two people, besides payin' the rent andfurniture installments, all on sixteen per. I got a job as cashier in aquick lunch place next day. Tim didn't like it a bit; did you, Tim?"
Mr. Moran grins good-natured.
"That's the way he stormed around at home," says Millie. "But I had ascheme. We'd seen some of this dancing done on the stage, not muchbetter than we could do ourselves. 'Tim dear,' says I, 'we've beendancing for the fun of it. It's the best thing you do. Now let's make itpay.' He thought I was crazy. I believe he had an idea he was born todrive a gasoline truck, and that it would be wicked to try anythingelse. But I do the heavy thinking for the Moran family. I nearly starvedhim until I'd saved out a tenspot. Then I went to the best tangoprofessor I could find and took an hour lesson. Next I taught Tim. Wecleared out our little dining room and had our meals off the gas range.My next splurge was a music machine and some dance records. One SaturdayTim brought home two dollars for overtime, and that night we watchedMaurice from the second balcony. Then we really began practicing. Why,some nights I kept him at it for four hours on a stretch. He weighedone hundred and eighty at the start; but now he's down to one hundredand forty-three. But it's been good for him. And trying to keep allthose new variations in his head--why, he's almost learned to think!Say, you know you can get almost anything by keeping at it. And Tim andI have learned rag dancing, all there is to it, besides some I've madeup. All we need now is a chance, and it's such scum as old Bloom thatkeeps us out. Do you blame me for landing on his hat?"
"Not me," says I. "And I hope you break in sometime or other."
"It's got to be now," says Millie. "I've made Tim quit the truck, andwe're down to our last dollar. Think of that! Just when I can seedaylight ahead too! Why, if I knew where I could get hold of twohundred----"
She pauses and gazes around sort of desperate, until she and Elisha P.Bayne are starin' at each other.
I couldn't resist the temptation, either. "There you are," says I. "Mr.Bayne runs a bank. Lendin' money's his business."
"Really, McCabe!" says Bayne indignant.
But Millie ain't lettin' any hints get by. "Why wouldn't someone lend methat much?" says she, gazin' earnest at me once more. "Just two hundred!I could pay it back in less than six months. Oh, I'm sure I could! Mr.McCabe, wouldn't you?"
Almost took my breath away, the quick way she turned my josh back on me."Why," says I, "I--I might--on security."
"Security?" says she, kind of vague. Then all of a
sudden she brightensup. "Why, yes; of course you'd want security. I'd put up Tim."
"Eh?" says I, and something of the kind comes from Timothy too.
"He can always earn from twelve to fifteen a week," says Millie, eager."You could have ten of it for twenty weeks. We could live in one room,and I would keep things running. Honest, if we don't make a go of itwe'll come back and pay up."
"But what's the scheme?" says I. "Going off somewhere, are you?"
"That's what I want the money for, to take us there," says she. "I--Idon't want to tell the rest. I haven't even told Tim. But we can winout. I'm sure we can if you'll stake us. Won't you, please, ProfessorMCCabe?"
And I expect it was all due to that sneer of Elisha P. Bayne's. Forwhile this was about as batty a business proposition as I ever had putup to me, this scheme of Millie's for hockin' her hubby, I'd got more orless int'rested in her yarn. And it struck me that a girl who'd donewhat she had wa'n't any quitter. Elisha puts on such a hard, cold sneertoo; and comin' from this wise, foxy old near-plute who'd been playin'lead pipe cinches all his life, I expect, and never lettin' go of anickel until he had a dime's worth of goods in his fist--well, it gotto me, all right.
"Say, I'm a bear for Paris."]
"You win," says I, flashin' my roll and startin' to count off thetwenties.
"But, McCabe!" gasps Elisha P. "Surely you're not going to lend twohundred dollars to--to such a person as this?"
"Yep," says I. "This is my foolish day. And I'm goin' to write you acheck for two hundred more for a six months' option on that Sucker Brooktract. Here you are, Mrs. Moran. Never mind the ticket for Tim. I'mtakin' your word."
"Talk about miracles!" says Millie, countin' the money dazed.
"Bless you, Sorr!" says Tim husky as I shows 'em out.
And I finds Elisha P. sittin' there rubbin' his hands expectant. He musthave suspicioned I was easy all the while, or he wouldn't have hung onso; but after this exhibition I expect he felt it was only a matter ofmakin' a few passes and then walkin' off with everything but my shirt.Fact is, though, I'd had some new dope on this property, and while itlooked like a thirty-to-one shot I thought I'd take a chance. Course, hetries to close the deal outright; but the option is as far as I'll go.
For weeks after that, though, I carried four hundred on the books with aminus sign in front. Then I crossed it off altogether. Not a word fromthe Morans. Nothing doing in the way of buying booms around SuckerBrook. But you got to stand some losses now and then if you're goin' tokeep in line for an occasional big cleanup. And, anyway, it was worthwhile to head Elisha P. Bayne's boob list. You ought to see thesarcastic smiles he used to shoot over when we'd meet and he'd ask ifI'd heard from, my dancing friends yet. Say, I expect I furnished theone joke of his life.
I did bank on gettin' back something from Millie, though, if only amoney order for ten on account. But all through June and July, clearinto August, not a whisper. Whatever her scheme had been, it must havegone wrong.
And then here one mornin' last week as I'm gazin' idle out the frontwindow onto 42d-st., up rolls a taxi, and out climbs a couple that youmight have said had been shot over by aeroplane from the Rue de Rivoli.Couldn't tell that so much from her getup as from the Frenchy hat andboulevard whiskers he's sportin'. First brick red imperial I everremember seein' too. It ain't until they've climbed the stairs andwalked in the studio door, though, that I even had a glimmer as to whothey was. But one glance at them black eyes of the lady's was enough.
"Well, I'll be singed!" says I. "The Morans!"
"Of London and Paris," adds Millie.
"Gwan!" says I.
"Show him, Tim," says she. At which Timothy extracts from the inside ofhis silk tile a billboard poster announcing the comin', for a limitedengagement only, of those European tango wizards, Mons. and Mlle. Moran.
"I cabled our agents we wouldn't sail until we'd seen a sample of thepaper," says Millie.
"Gee!" says I. "You must have got next!"
"Did we?" says Millie. "My word! Why, when we hit London the craze wasjust striking in over there. We was among the advance guard. Say, wehadn't been over ten days before we headed the bill at the Alcazar asthe famous New York tango artists. Inside of two weeks more we weredoing three turns a night, with all kinds of private dates on the side.Say, would you believe it? I've danced with a real Duke! And Tim--why ifit hadn't been for me on the spot there'd been no telling what wouldhave happened. Those English society women are the limit. Then Paris.Ah, _ma chere Paris_! Say, I'm a bear for Paris. Didn't we soak theprice on when that Moulin Rouge guy came after us, though? _Ma foi!_Say, he used to weep when be paid me the money. '_Mon Dieu!_ Fivehundred francs for so small a _danse_!' But he paid. Trust Millie Moran!Say, I collected a few glad rags over there too. What about this one?"
"It don't need any Paris label," says I. "Don't see how you gotupstairs in it, though."
"I can do a cartwheel in it," says she. "We've learned to handleourselves some, Tim and I. And now I guess I'll take him out of hock.You'll find two hundred gold in the package."
"Thanks," says I, openin' the long envelope. "But what's this other?"
"Oh, that!" says she. "Interest. Deed for a few lots in the new NorthAddition to Saskatoon."
"Tut, tut!" says I. "I can't take 'em. That wa'n't any loan I staked youto; just bread on the waters."
"Well, you can't kick if it comes back a ham sandwich," says she."Besides, the lots stand in your name now. They were a mile out of townwhen I bought 'em; but Brother Phil says the city's bulged that waysince. They've got the boom, you know. That's where we've been sendingall our spare salary. Phil's down here to see us open."
"Eh?" says I. "Not the surveyor!"
"He still does some of that," says she.
"Do you suppose," says I, "I could get him to do a little stunt for mewhile he's here?"
"Do I?" says she. "Why, he knows all about it. Brother Phil will go thelimit for you."
Uh-huh. Philip was up to all the fine points of the game, and theimitation he gave of layin' out a two-million-dollar factory site alongSucker Brook was perfect, even to loadin' his transit and targetjugglers into a tourin' car right in front of the Rockhurst TrustCompany.
Maybe that's how it come to be noised around that the Western ElectricCompany was goin' to locate a big plant on the tract. Anyway, beforenight I had three of the syndicate biddin' against each otherconfidential; but when Elisha P. runs it up to four figures, offerin' tomeet me at the station with a certified check, I closes the deal with abang.
"Swifty," says I, hangin' up the 'phone, "trot around to the Casino andget a lower box for to-night, while I find a florist's and order aneight-foot horseshoe of American beauties."
"Chee!" says Swifty, gawpin'. "What's doin'?"
"I'm tryin' to celebrate a doubleheader," says I.