by Sewell Ford
CHAPTER II
A JOLT FOR PIDDIE
It's a case of "comin' up, up" with me. Sure as ever! Ain't I got stockin a gold mine? And now I'm in with the Corrugated Trust. Why, say, twomoves more and I'll be first vice-president. There's only his door, andthe general manager's, and then me.
I'm behind the brass rail, next to the spring water. When you have thefront to push through the plate glass, you see me first. If I likes yourlooks, and your card reads right, maybe I gives you a peek at Mr.Piddie. Anyone that gets past Piddie's a bird. He's the Inside Brother,Keeper of the Seal, Watch on the Rhine, and a lot more. He draws downsalary for bein' confidential secretary to the G. M.; but Con. Sec.don't half cover it. He keeps the run of everything, from what the lastquarterly dividend was down to how many tubs of pins is used by theoffice force every month.
I'd never made good with Piddie in a month of Yom Kippurs if it hadn'tbeen for Old Heavyweight, the main squeeze. Piddie had ten of us linedup for the elimination test, and was puttin' us through the catechismand the civil service, when in pads Mr. Ellins--you know, HickoryEllins. Ever see our V. P.? Say, he uses up cloth enough in his vest tomake me a whole suit.
He's a ripe old sport, with a complexion like an Easter egg, and a pairo' blinks that'd look a hole through a chilled steel vault. He runs usover without losin' step, sticks out a finger as he goes by, and saysover his shoulder, "Piddie, take that one!"
Me, I was in range. Piddie made a bluff at goin' on with the thirddegree business; but the other entries begins to edge for the door. Iwas the one best bet; so what was the use? See what it is to have athirty-two candle power thatch? He couldn't have missed me, less'n he'dbeen color blind. There's worse things can happen to you than red hair,all right.
Piddie was sore on me from the start, though. He'd made up his mind totag a nice little mommer's boy, with a tow colored top and a girlyvoice. Them's the kind that forgets to bring back change and always hasstamps to sell. Oh, I sized up Piddie for a two by four right at the getaway; but I've been keepin' him jollied along just for the fun of it.
"J. Hemmingway Piddie" is the way he has it printed. Think of wastin'all them letters, when just plain Piddie is as good as seein' a stripof pingpong pictures of him! He's mostly up and down, Piddie is, likehe'd been pulled out of a bundle of laths, and he's got one of theseinquisitive noses that's sharp enough to file bills on.
Refined conversation is Piddie's strong hold. It bubbles out of him likesteam out of the oatmeal kettle. Sounds that way, too. You know thesemush eaters, with their, "Ah, I'm su-ah, quite su-ah, doncher know"?He's got that kind of lingo down to an art. I'll bet he could talk it inhis sleep. I've heard 'em before; but I never looked to hold a sit.under one.
It's a privilege, though, bein' so close to Piddie. If I don't forgetall the things he tells me, and follows 'em, I'll be made over new in amonth more. He begins with my name. Torchy don't fit right with him. Itmight do for some places he didn't mention, but not for the home officesof the Corrugated Trust.
"Maybe you'd like Reginald better!" says I.
"But--er--aw--is that your baptismal name, my boy?" says he.
"Nix," says I. "I'm no Baptist. And, anyway, I couldn't give up my realname, cause I'm travelin' incog., and me noble relatives would beshocked if they knew I was really workin'. You can call me Torchy, orReginald, whichever you think of first, and if you be careful to say itreal nice maybe I'll come."
Every time I throws a jolt like that into J. Hemmingway, he looks kindof stunned and goes off to chew it over. But he gets even all right.Sometimes he'll take a whole forenoon to dig up somethin' he thinks isgoin' to give me the double cross.
Most of his spare time, though, he puts in tellin' me about how I'm tobehave when Mr. Robert comes back. For the first few days I had an ideaMr. Robert was the pulley that carried the big belt, and that when hestopped there was a general shut down. I got nervous watchin' for him.Then I rounds up the fact that he's Bob Ellins, who cuts more ice in thesociety columns than he does in the Wall Street notes.
Piddie has him down for a little tin god, all right, and that wa'n'tsuch a fool move of Piddie's, either. Some day Hickory Ellins will haveto quit and take the hot baths regular, and then Mr. Robert will getacquainted with an eight o'clock breakfast. See where Piddie comes in?He's takin' out insurance on his job. He needs it bad enough. If I everget to think as much of a job as Piddie does of his, I'll have some onenail me to the office chair.
Rule No. 1 on my card was never to let anyone through the brass gateunless they belonged inside or had a special permit. Piddie wants toknow if I've ever had any experience with that kind of work.
"Say, where do you think I've been!" says I. "Why, I did that trick forsix months, shuntin' dopes away from the Sunday editor's door, and therewas times when nothin' but a club would keep some of 'em out. Back tothe bridge, Piddie! When I'm on the gate it's just as good as thoughyou'd set the time lock."
Well, I'd been there over one payday and halfway to the next, when onemornin' about ten-thirty the door comes open with a bang, and in steps ahusky young gent, swingin' one of these dinky, leather-covered canes,and lookin' like money from the mint. He didn't make any play to draw acard, same's they generally does; but steers straight for the brassgate, full tilt. I never says a word; but just as he reaches over tospring the catch and break in, I shoves my foot out and blocks it at thebottom, bringin' him up all standin'.
"Say, this ain't no ferryhouse," says I.
"Hello!" says he. "A new one, eh?"
"I ain't any Fourth-ave. antique," says I; "but I'm over seven. Was youwantin' to see anyone special?"
He seems to think that's a joke. "Why," says he, "I am Mr. Ellins."
"G'wan!" says I. "You ain't half of him."
That reaches his funnybone, too. "You're perfectly right, young man,"says he; "but I happen to be his son. Now are you satisfied?"
"Nope," says I. "That bluff don't go either. If you was Mr. Robert I'dhave been struck by lightnin' long 'fore this. You've got one moreguess."
Just then I hears a gurgle, like some one's bein' choked with a chickenbone, and I squints around behind. There was Piddie, lookin' like thebuildin' was fallin' down and tryin' to uncork some remarks.
"Ah, Piddie!" says the gent. "Perhaps you will introduce me to your newsentry and give me the password."
Well, Piddie did. He almost got on his hands and knees doin' it. Andsay, blamed if the duck wa'n't Mr. Robert, after all!
"Gee!" says I, "that was a bad break."
That didn't soothe Piddie, though. He used up the best part of an hourtryin' to tell me what an awful thing I'd gone and done.
"This ends you, young man!" he says. "You're as good as discharged thisvery moment."
"Is that all?" says I. "Why, by the way you've been takin' on I figuredon nothin' less than sudden death. But if it's only bein' fired, don'tyou worry. I've had that happen to me so often that I get uneasy withoutit. If I should wear a stripe for every time the can's been tied to me,my sleeves would look like a couple of barber's poles. Cheer up, Piddie!Maybe they'll let you pick out somethin' that suits you better nexttime."
He couldn't get over it, though. Along about lunch time he comes out tome, as solemn as though he's servin' a warrant for homicide, and saysthat Mr. Robert will attend to my case now.
"Piddie," says I, givin' him the partin' grip, "you've been a truefriend of mine. When you hear me hit the asphalt, send out for achocolate ice cream soda and drown your sorrow."
Then I turns down a page in "Old Sleuth's Revenge" and goes to theslaughter.
Mr. Robert has just talked about three cylinders full of answers to theletters that's piled up while he's been gone, and as the girl goes outwith the records he whirls around in the mahogany easy-chair and takes agood long look at me.
"If it comes as hard as all that," says I, "I'll write out myresignation."
"Mr. Piddie's been talking to you, I suppose?" says he.
"He's done everything but
say mass over me," says I.
"Piddie is a good deal of an----" then he pulls up. "Where the deucedid he find you?"
"It wasn't him found me," says I; "it was a case of me findin' him; butif it hadn't been for your old man's buttin' in, that's all the good itwould have done me."
"Ah!" says he. "That explains the mystery. By the way, son, what do theycall you?"
"Guess," says I, and runs me fingers through it. "Just Torchy, and itsuits me as well as Percival or Montgomery."
"Torchy is certainly descriptive," says he. "How long have you beendoing office work?"
"Ever since I could lift a waste basket," says I.
"Are you ambitious?" says he.
"Sure!" says I. "I'm waitin' for some bank president to adopt me."
"You came in here expecting to be discharged, I presume?" says he.
"What, me?" says I. "Nah! I thought you was goin' to ask me over to theCaffy Martang for lunch."
For a minute or so after that he looks me straight in the eye, and Igives him the same. And say, for the kind, he ain't so worse. Course, Iwouldn't swap him for Mr. Belmont Pepper, who's the only boss I ever hadthat I calls the real thing; but Mr. Robert would get a ratin'anywhere.
"Torchy," says he after a bit, "I'm inclined to think that you'll do.Have a chair."
"Don't I get the blue ticket, then?" says I.
"No," says he, "not until you do something worse than obey orders.Besides you're the cheekiest youth that has ever graced the offices ofthe Corrugated Trust, and once in awhile we have use for just such aquality. For instance, I am tempted to send you on a very importanterrand of my own. Wait a moment while I think it over."
"Time out!" says I.
Well say, I didn't know what was comin', he took so long makin' up hismind. But Mr. Robert ain't one of the kind to go off half cocked. He'sgot somethin' on his shoulders besides tailor's paddin', and when hesets the wheels to movin' you can gamble that he's gettin' somewhere.After awhile he slaps his knee and says:
"No, there isn't another person around the place who would know how togo about it. Torchy, I'm going to try you out!"
It wasn't anything like I'd ever been up against before. He hands me anexpress receipt and says he wants me to go over to Jersey City and getwhat that calls for without landin' in jail.
"You'll see a bundle done up in burlap somewhere around the expressoffice," says he, "a big bundle. It looks like a side of veal; but itisn't. It's a deer, one that I shot four days ago up north. Torchy, didyou know that it was illegal to shoot deer during certain months of theyear?"
"You can be pinched for shootin' craps any time," says I.
"Really?" says he.
Then he goes on with his tale, givin' me all the partic'lars, so Iwouldn't make any batty moves. And say, they can think up some queerstunts, hangin' around the club of an afternoon and lookin' out atFifth-ave. through the small end of a glass. This was one of them realclubby dreams. It started by Mr. Robert countin' himself in on a debatethat he didn't know the beginning of.
"When they asked me if I could do it, I said, 'Of course I can,'" sayshe, "and then I asked what it was."
The bunch had been gassin' about an old gun hangin' over the fireplace.It was one of these old-timers, like they tell about Daniel Boone'shavin', in the Nickel Libr'ies, the kind you load with a stove poker.Flintlocks--that's it! They was wonderin' if there was anyone left thatcould take a relic like that out in the woods and hit anything besidesthe atmosphere. And the first thing Mr. Robert knows he has been joshedinto bettin' a hatful of yellowbacks that he can take old Injun killerout and bring back enough deer meat to feed the crowd--and him knowin'no more about that sort of act than a one-legged man does about skatin'!They gives him two weeks to do it in.
That wa'n't the worst of it, though, accordin' to him. They passes theword around until everyone that knows him is on the broad grin. The jokeis handed across billiard tables between shots, and is circulated aroundthe boxes at the opera. It's the best ever; for Mr. Robert has neverhunted anything livelier than a Welsh rabbit, after the show.
He's a boy that likes to make good, though. He never makes a brag; buthe boxes up that old shootin' iron and drops out of sight. 'Way up inthe woods somewhere he digs up an old b'gosh artist that was brought upwith one of them guns in his hand, and he takes a private course. Afterhe's used up a keg of powder shootin' at tin cans they start out to findwhere the deers roost. They find 'em, too. Mr. Robert is so rattled thathe misses the one he aims at; but he bores a tunnel through another inthe next lot.
Course, he thinks he's got a cinch then. He hustles to the nearest flagstation and spends eight dollars sendin' telegrams to the bunch,invitin' 'em to a venison feed at the club. Then he has his game sewedup neat in meal bags and expressed to John Doe, Jersey City. See howcute he was? He'd heard about the game laws by that time; so he lays hisplans to duck any trouble. But he hadn't counted on that gang tippin'off the Jersey game wardens, nor on their trailin' the baggage andexpress bundles with huntin' dogs.
"The dogs had smelled it out just as I came in to claim it," says he;"so all I could do was to keep my mouth closed, standing around andlooking foolish until I got tired and came away. And that, Torchy, isthe situation up to the present moment. My venison is under guard overin Jersey City, and if it isn't delivered at the club by six o'clockto-night I shall not only lose my bet, but have my life made miserablefrom cheap jokes for months to come. It occurred to me that if your witswere as bright as the hair that covers them, you might be able to helpme out. What do you think?"
"Chee!" says I, scratchin' me bonfire, "I guess I'm down the coal chute.I've rescued locked-in typewriter girls from fire escapes, and lied theboss out of a family row; but I never tried my hand at kidnappin' enoughmeat for a dinner party. How about buyin' off the game sleuth?"
"He has been bought by the other side," says Mr. Robert. "He wouldn'tdare to sell them out."
Well, I thunk some more thinks just as punky as that, and then wesettles it that I'm to hike over and take a squint, anyway. I gets himto give me a line on what kind of a looker the warden was, and he throwsme a couple of tens for campaign expenses. I was just stowin' away thegreen stuff as I goes through the outside office, and Piddie's eyebrowsgo up.
"They're goin' to let me finish out the week," says I. "Ain't they thegentle things?"
Then I skips out for the 23d-st. boat, leavin' Piddie with his mouthopen, and Mr. Robert wrapped up with the idea that, some way or other,I'm goin' to talk that game cop into a dope dream and rescue the roast.
But, say, I didn't need to look twice at that snoozer to see that noline of hot air I had in stock would soften him up. He had an undershotjaw, a pair of eyes that saw both sides of the street at once, and ahead like a choppin' block. He was sittin' right alongside of thatburlap bundle, waitin' to spring his tin badge on some one.
"Do they send such things as that through without cratin'?" says I to aguy behind the chicken wire, jerkin' me thumb at Mr. Sleuth. "What's thelabel on him?"
"That's Mr. Hinkey Tolliver, special officer," says he. "Better lookout or he'll break a hand grenade on that still alarm of yours."
"Ah, back to the blotter!" says I. "Who gave you any license to makefunny cracks on my Mrs. Leslie Carter disguise?"
We swapped a few more like that, while I sizes up Hinkey, tryin' to mapout a way to brace him. But it was a losin' proposition. He has one ofthem eyes nailed to what I wanted to take away and the other trained onthe door, and you could tell by the way he held his jaw that nothin'short of an earthquake would jar him loose.
It was too much for me. If it hadn't been that Mr. Robert had put it upto me so flat, I'd have quit then. But I couldn't lay down with just alook; so I takes a turn around into the passenger waitin' room, battin'my head for a new line.
I guess it was kind of second sight that steers me over into the cornerwhere there is an A. D. T. branch. I wa'n't lookin' for anyone I knew,seein' it's been so long since I wore the cap; but who
should I pipeoff, sittin' on the call bench, but Hunch Leary! And, say, between thetime I'd give him the nod to come out, and his askin' how it was I'dshook the red stripe, I'd framed up the whole scheme. First I goes overto the girl under the blue bell and rings up Mr. Robert.
"Hello," says I, "this is Torchy."
"Good!" says he. "Have you got it?"
"Got nothin'!" says I. "You must think I'm a writ of habeas corpus. Iwant to know who was the gent that most likely tipped off your wardenfriend."
When I'd got that I asks the time of the next uptown boat, and makes adeal with one of them ferry hawks to back his chariot up near theexpress office door and be ready to make a swift move for the gangplank.
Then me and Hunchy fakes up this little billy ducks to Mr. HinkeyTolliver, tellin' him to chase to the nearest 'phone and call up thegent that Mr. Robert had put me wise to.
It was worse'n playin' a three-ball combination for the side pocket, andI holds my breath while Hunch pokes his book at him and waits to see ifthere's any answer. Tolliver, he reads it over two or three times, firstwith one eye and then the other. One minute I thought he was goin', andthe next he settles back like he'd made up his mind to balk. He squintsat the burlap package, and then at the message, and all of a sudden hemakes a break for the 'phone.
He hadn't begun movin' before I was up to the window with my receipt,callin' for 'em to get a hustle on, as Mr. Doe had run out of veal andhad to have it in a hurry. Ever try to poke up one of them boxjugglers? They took their time about it--and me lookin' for troubleevery tick of the clock! But I got an O. K. on it after awhile, and fora quarter I hired a wagon helper to drag the bundle out and chuck itinto the hansom. Then I climbs in and we made the boat just as the bellrang. She was pullin' out of the slip when Tolliver rushes out about ascalm as a bulldog chasin' a tramp.
"Say," says the driver, climbin' down to take a look at the baggage,"who you got sewed in the sack!"
"Get on your perch!" says I. "Ain't you makin' extra money on this? Andwhen you fetch up at the club, do it like you was used to stoppin' atsuch places."
It was a great ride that me and the deer meat had across town and upFifth-ave. I'd stopped once to put Mr. Robert next; so he was waitin'for me out in front of the club, wearin' a grin that was better'n abreakfast food ad.
But that wa'n't anything to the look on Piddie when Mr. Robert shows upnext mornin' and pats me on the back like I was one of his old HastyPuddin' chums.
"Piddie," says I, "look what it is to be born handsome and lucky, all inone throw!"