by Sewell Ford
CHAPTER XII
WHEN THE CURB GOT GYPPED
It was what you might call a session of the big four. Anyway, that's theway I'd put it; for besides Old Hickory, planted solid in his mahoganyswing chair with his face lookin' more'n ever like a two-tone cut of theRock of Gibraltar, there was Mr. Robert, and Piddie and me. Someaggregation, I'll say. And it didn't need any jiggly message from theouija board to tell that something important in the affairs of theCorrugated Trust might happen within the next few minutes. You couldalmost feel it in the air. Piddie did. You could see that by the nervousway he was twitchin' his lips.
Course it was natural the big boss should turn first to me. "Torchy," hegrowls, "shut that door."
And as I steps around to close the only exit from the private office Icould watch Piddie's face turn the color of a piece of cheese. Mr.Robert looks kind of serious, too.
"Gentlemen," goes on Old Hickory, tossin' the last three inches of adouble Corona reckless into a copper bowl, "there's a leak somewhere inthis office."
That gets a muffled gasp out of Piddie which puts him under thespotlight at once, and when he finds we're all lookin' at him he goesthrough all the motions of a cabaret patron tryin' to sneak past one ofMr. Palmer's agents with something on the hip. If he'd been caught inthe act of borin' into the bond safe he couldn't have looked anyguiltier.
"I--er--I assure you, Mr. Ellins," he begins spluttery, "thatI--ah--I----"
"Bah!" snorts Old Hickory impatient. "Who is implying that you do? Ifyou were under suspicion in the least you wouldn't have been called inhere, Mr. Piddie. So your panic is quite unnecessary."
"Of course," puts in Mr. Robert. "Don't be absurd, Piddie. Anything newthis morning, Governor?"
"Rather," says Old Hickory, pointin' to a Wall Street daily that hasbroke loose on its front page with a three-column headline. "See whatthe Curb crowd did to G. L. T. common yesterday? Traded nearly onehundred thousand shares and hammered the opening quotations for atwenty-point loss. All on a rumor of a passed dividend. Well, you knowthat at three o'clock the day before we tabled a motion to pass thatdividend and that an hour later, with a full board present, we decidedto pay the regular four per cent semi-annual. But the announcement wasnot to be made until next Monday. Yet during that hour someone fromthis office must have carried out news of that first motion. True, itwas a false tip; but I propose, gentlemen, to find out where that leakcame from."
There's only one bet I'd be willin' to make on a proposition of thatkind. If Old Hickory had set himself to trail down anything he'd do it.And we'd have to help.
Course, this Great Lakes Transportation is only one of our side linesthat we carry on a separate set of books just to please the AttorneyGeneral. And compared to other submerged subsidiaries, as Mr. Robertcalls 'em, it don't amount to much. But why its outstanding stock shouldbe booted around Broad Street was an interestin' question. Also who theparty was that was handin' out advance dope on such confidential detailsas board meetin' motions--Well, that was more so. Next time it might bea tip on something important. Mr. Robert suggests this.
"There is to be no next time," says Old Hickory, settin' his jaw.
So we starts the drag-net. First we went over the directors who had beenpresent. Only five, includin' Old Hickory and Mr. Robert. And of theother three there was two that it would have been foolish to ask.Close-mouthed as sea clams after being shipped to Kansas City. The thirdwas Oggie Kendall, a club friend of Mr. Robert's, who'd been draggeddown from luncheon to make up a quorum.
"Oggie might have chattered something through sheer carelessness," saysMr. Robert. "I'll see if I can get him on the 'phone."
He could. But it takes Mr. Robert nearly five minutes to explain toOggie what he's being queried about. Finally he gives it up.
"Oh, never mind," says he, hangin' up. Then, turnin' to us, he shrugshis shoulders. "It wasn't Oggie. Why, he doesn't even know which boardhe was acting on, and says he doesn't remember what we were talkingabout. Thought it was some sort of committee meeting."
"Then that eliminates all but some member of the office staff," says OldHickory. "Torchy, you acted as secretary. Do you remember that anyonecame into the directors' room during our session?"
"Not a soul," says I.
"Except the boy Vincent," suggests Piddie.
"Ah, he wasn't in," says I. "Only came to the door with some telegrams;I took 'em myself."
"But was not a letter sent to our Western manager," Piddie goes on,"hinting that the G. L. T. dividend might be passed, and doesn't the boyhave access to the private letter book?"
"Carried it from my desk to the safe, that's all," says I.
"Still," insists Piddie, "that would give him time enough to look."
"Oh, sure!" says I. "And since he's been here he's had a chance tosnitch, off a barrel full of securities, or drop bombs down the elevatorwell; but somehow he hasn't."
"Well, we might as well have him in," says Old Hickory, pushin' thebuzzer.
Seemed kind of silly to me, givin' fair-haired Vincent the third degreeon sketchy hunch like that. Vincent! Why, he's been with the Corrugatedfour or five years, ever since they took me off the gate. And when hewent on the job he was about the most innocent-eyed office boy, Iexpect, that you could find along Broadway. Reg'lar mommer's boy. Wasjust that, in fact. Used to tell me how worried his mother was for fearhe'd get to smokin' cigarettes, or shootin' craps, or indulgin' in otherbig-town vices. Havin' seen mother, I could well believe it. Nice,refined old girl, still wearin' a widow's bonnet. Shows up occasionallyon a half-holiday and lets Vincent take her to the Metropolitan Museum,or to a concert.
Course, Vincent hadn't stayed as green as when he first came. Couldn't.For it's more or less of a liberal education, being on the gate in theCorrugated General Offices, as I used to tell him. You simply gotta getwise to things or you don't last. And Vincent has wised up. Oh, yes.
Why, here only this last week, for instance, he makes a few plays that Icouldn't have done any better myself. One was when I turns over to himthe job of gettin' Pullman reservations on the Florida Limited forFreddie, the chump brother-in-law of Mr. Robert. Marjorie--that's thesister--had complained how all she could get was uppers, although they'dhad an application in for six weeks. And as she and Freddie was takingboth youngsters and two maids along they were on the point of givin' upthe trip.
"Bah!" says Mr. Robert. "Freddie doesn't know how to do it, that's all.We'll get your reservations for you."
So he passes it on to me, and as I'm too busy just then to monkey withPullman agents I shoots it on to Vincent. And inside of an hour he'sback with a drawin' room and a section.
"Have to buy somebody; eh, Vincent?" I asks.
"Oh, yes, sir," says he cheerful.
"Just how did you work it?" says I.
"Well," says Vincent, "there was the usual line, of course. And theagent told three people ahead of me the same thing. 'Only uppers on theLimited.' So when it came my turn I simply shoved a five through thegrill work and remarked casual: 'I believe you are holding adrawing-room and a section for me, aren't you?' 'Why, yes,' says he.'You're just in time, too.' And a couple of years ago he would have doneit for a dollar. Not now, though. It takes a five to pull a drawing-roomthese days."
"A swell bunch of grafters Uncle Sam turned back when he let go of theroads, eh?" says I.
"It's the same in the freight department," says Vincent. "You know thatcarload of mill machinery that had been missing for so long? Well, lastweek Mr. Robert sent me to the terminal offices for a report on theirtracer. I told him to let me try a ten on some assistant general freightagent. It worked. He went right out with a switch engine and cut thatcar out of the middle of a half-mile long train on a siding, and beforemidnight it was being loaded on the steamer."
Also it was Vincent who did the rescue act when we was entertainin' thatbunch of government inspectors who come around once a year to see thatwe ain't carryin' any wildcat stocks on our securities list, or haven'tscuttled
our sinking fund, or anything like that. Course, our books arealways in such shape that they're welcome to paw 'em over all they like.That's easy enough. But, still, there's no sense in lettin' 'em nosearound too free. Might dig up something they could ask awkward questionsabout. So Old Hickory sees to it that them inspectors has a good time,which means a suite of rooms at the Plutoria for a week, with dinnersand theatre parties every night. And now with this Volstead act beingpushed so hard it's kind of inconvenient gettin' a crowd of men into theright frame of mind. Has to be done though, no matter what may havehappened to the constitution.
But this time it seems someone tip at the Ellins home had forgot totransfer part of the private cellar stock down to the hotel and when OldHickory calls up here we has to chase Vincent out there and have himload two heavy suitcases into a taxi and see that the same are deliveredwithout being touched by any bellhops or porters. Knew what he wascarryin', Vincent did, and the chance he was taking; but he put over theact off hand, as if he was cartin' in a case of malted milk to afoundling hospital. They do say it was some party Old Hickory gave 'em.
I expect if a lot of folks out in the church sociable belt knew of thatthey'd put up a big howl. But what do they think? As I was tellin'Vincent: "You can't run big business on grape juice." That is, not ourend of it. Oh, it's all right to keep the men in the plants down to oneand a half per cent stuff. Good for 'em. We got the statistics to proveit. But when it comes to workin' up friendly relations with federalagents you gotta uncork something with a kick to it. Uh-huh. What wouldthem Rubes have us do--say it with flowers? Or pass around silk socks,or scented toilet soap?
And Vincent, for all his innocent big eyes and parlor manners, has cometo know the Corrugated way of doing things. Like a book. Yet when hewalks in there on the carpet in front of Old Hickory and thecross-questionin' starts he answers up as straight and free as if hewas being asked to name the subway stations between Wall Street and theGrand Central. You wouldn't think he'd ever gypped anybody in all hisyoung career.
Oh, yes, he'd known about the G. L. T. board meetin'. Surely. He'd beensent up to Mr. Robert's club with the message for Oggie Kendall to comedown and do his director stunt. The private letter book? Yes, heremembered putting that away in the safe. Had he taken a look at it? Whyshould he? Vincent seems kind of hurt that anyone should suggest such athing. He stares at Old Hickory surprised and pained. Well, then, did hehappen to have any outside friends connected with the Curb; anybody thathe'd be apt to let slip little things about Corrugated affairs to?
"I should hope, sir, that if I did have such friends I would know enoughto keep business secrets to myself," says Vincent, his lips quiverin'indignant.
"Yes, yes, to be sure," says Old Hickory, "but----"
Honest, he was almost on the point of apologizin' to Vincent when therecomes this knock on the private office door and I'm signalled to see whoit is. I finds one of the youths from the filin' room who's subbin' inon the gate for Vincent. He grins and whispers the message and Itells-him to stay there a minute.
"It's a lady to see you, Mr. Ellins," says I. "Mrs. Jerome St Claire."
"Eh?" grunts Old Hickory. "Mrs. St. Claire? Who the syncopated Sissyphusis she?"
"Vincent's mother, sir," says I.
This time he lets out a snort like a freight startin' up a grade. "Well,what does she want with----?" Here he breaks off and fixes them chilledsteel eyes of his on Vincent.
No wonder. The pink flush has faded out of Vincent's fair young cheeks,his big blue eyes are rolled anxious at the door, and he seems to betryin' to swallow something like a hard-boiled egg.
"Your mother, eh?" says Old Hickory. "Perhaps we'd better have her in."
"Oh, no, sir! Please. I--I'd rather see her first," says Vincent choky.
"Would you?" says Old Hickory. "Sorry, son, but as I understand it shehas called to see me. Torchy, show the lady in."
I hated to do it, but there was no duckin'. Such a nice, modest littleold girl, too. She has the same innocent blue eyes as Vincent, traces ofthe same pink flush in her cheeks, and her hair is frosted up genteeland artistic.
She don't make any false motions, either. After one glance around thegroup she picks out Old Hickory, makes straight for him, and grabs oneof his big paws in both hands.
"Mr. Ellins, is it not?" says she. "Please forgive my coming in likethis, but I did want to tell you how grateful I am for all that youhave done for dear Vincent and me. It was so generous and kind of you?"
"Ye-e-es?" says Old Hickory, sort of draggy and encouragin'.
"You see," she goes on, "I had been so worried over that dreadfulmortgage on our little home, and when Vincent came home last night withthat wonderful check and told me how you had helped him invest hissavings so wisely it seemed perfectly miraculous. Just think! Twelvehundred dollars! Exactly what we needed to free our home from debt. Iknow Vincent has told you how happy you have made us both, but I simplycould not resist adding my own poor words of gratitude."
She sure was a weak describer. Poor words! If she hadn't said a wholemouthful then my ears are no good. Less'n a minute and a half by theclock she'd been in there, but she certainly had decanted the beans. Shehad me tinted up like a display of Soviet neckwear, Piddie gawpin' ather with his face ajar, and Vincent diggin' his toes into the rug. Luckyshe had her eyes fixed on Old Hickory, whose hand-hewn face reveals justas much emotion as if he was bettin' the limit on a four-card flush.
"It is always a great pleasure, madam, to be able to do things soopportunely," says he; "and, I may add, unconsciously."
"But you cannot know," she rushes on, "how proud you have made me of mydear boy." With that she turns to Vincent and kisses him impetuous. "Hedoes give promise of being a brilliant business man, doesn't he?" shedemands.
"Yes, madam," says Old Hickory, indulgin' in one of them grim smiles ofhis, "I rather think he does."
"Ah-h-h!" says she. Another quick hug for Vincent, a happy smile tossedat Old Hickory, and she has tripped out.
For a minute or so all you could hear in the private office was Piddie'sheart beatin' on his ribs, or maybe it was his knees knockin' together.He hasn't the temperament to sit in on deep emotional scenes, Piddie. Asfor Old Hickory, he clips the end off a six-inch brunette cigar, lightsup careful, and then turns slow to Vincent.
"Well, young man," says he, "so you did know about that motion to passthe dividend, after all, eh!"
Vincent nods, his head still down.
"Took a look at the letter book, did you!" asks Old Hickory.
Another weak nod.
"And 'phoned a code message to someone in Broad Street, I suppose?"suggests Old Hickory.
"No, sir," says Vincent. "He--he was waiting in the Arcade. I slippedout and handed him a copy of the motion--as carried. But not until afterthe full board had reversed it."
"Oh!" says Old Hickory. "Gave your friend the double cross, as I believeyou would state it?"
"He wasn't a friend," protests Vincent. "It was Izzy Goldheimer, whoused to work in the bond room before I came. He's with a Curb firm nowand has been trying for months to work me for tips on Corrugatedholdings. Promised me a percentage. But he was a welcher, and I knew it.So when I did give him a tip it--it was that kind."
"Hm-m-m!" says Old Hickory, wrinklin' his bushy eyebrows. "Still, I failto see just where you would have time to take advantage of suchconditions."
"I had put up my margins on G. L. T. the day before," explains Vincent."Taking the short end, sir. If the dividend had gone through at first Iwould have 'phoned in to change my trade to a buying order before Izzycould get down with the news. As it didn't, I let it stand. Of course, Iknew the market would break next morning and I closed out the deal for a15-point gain."
"Fairly clever manipulation," comments Old Hickory. "Then you clearedabout----"
"Fifteen hundred," says Vincent. "I could have made more by pyramiding,but I thought it best to pull out while I was sure."
"What every plunger knows--but forgets,
" says Old Hickory. "And youstill have a capital of three hundred for future operations, eh?"
"I'm through, sir," says Vincent. '"I--I don't like lying to mother.Besides after next Monday I don't think Izzy will bother me for any moretips. I--I suppose I'm fired, sir?"
"Eh?" says Old Hickory, scowlin' at him fierce. "Fired? No. Boys whohave a dislike for lying to mother are too scarce. Besides, anyone whocan beat a curb broker at his own game ought to be valuable to theCorrugated some day. Mr. Piddie, see that this young man is promoted assoon as there's an opening. And--er--I believe that is all, gentlemen."
As me and Piddie trickle out into the general offices Piddie whispersawed: "Wonderful man, Mr. Ellins! Wonderful!"
"How clever of you to find it out, Piddie," says I. "Did you get thehunch from Vincent's mother?"