Torchy

by Sewell Ford

  CHAPTER VII

  KEEPING TABS ON PIDDIE

  Say, I thought I knew Piddie. If anybody'd asked me to pick a party forthe Honest John act from among the crowd we got around the CorrugatedTrust here, I'd made J. Hemmingway Piddie my one best bet. He's beenwith the concern ever since Old Hickory Ellins flim-flammed his partnersout of their share of the business and took out a New Jersey charteredpermit that allowed him to practice grand larceny.

  If Piddie hadn't been a pinhead, he'd had his name on the board ofdirectors years ago. But there ain't no use tryin' to make parlorcomp'ny out of kitchen help; so Piddie's just trailed along, bein' asuseful as he knew how, and workin' up from ten a week to one fifty amonth, just as satisfied as if he was gettin' his per cent. of theprofits.

  What he does around the shop wouldn't turn anyone gray-headed; but hemakes the most of it. He swells up more over orderin' a few officesupplies than Mr. Robert would about signin' a million-dollar contract,and the way he keeps watch of the towels and soap and spring water you'dthink our stock was fallin' below par, 'stead of payin' nine per cent,on common. Gen'rally Piddie don't handle anything but petty cash; butonce in awhile, when no one else is handy, they chuck something big hisway, and he never lets up until everyone knows all about it. You cantell how chesty he feels, just by his strut.

  Well, there'd been a big rush on, and they was usin' Piddie more or lessfrequent, so I was gettin' used to his makin' a noise like a balloon,when one mornin' he come turkeyin' out to the brass gate and says to me:

  "Torchy, call up 0079 Broad and get the opening on Blitzen."

  "Sure," says I. "And if it touches seven-eighths don't you want tounload a couple of thousand shares?"

  "When I have any further orders," says he, puffin' out his face, "youwill get them!"

  "Oh, slush!" says I. "Don't play so rough, Piddie."

  I was onto him, all right. I've seen these hot-air plungers before. Theyfollow up a stock for weeks, and buy and sell in six figures, and reckonup how they've hit the market for great chunks--but it's all under theirlids. You can't spend pipe dreams, if you win; and if you lose, itdon't shrink the size of your really truly roll. It's almost assatisfyin' as walkin by the back door of a bakery when you're hungry.That kind of game is about Piddie's size, too. All it calls for isplenty of imagination, and he's got that by the bale. I was kind of gladto see him enjoyin' himself so innocent, and now and then I'd help alongthe excitement.

  "Heard about how Morgan's tryin' to get hold of Blitzen?" I'd say, andPiddie would prick up his ears like a fox-terrier sightin' a rat.

  "Who told you?" Piddie'd ask.

  "Why," I'd say, "I got it straight from a delicatessen man that lives onthe same block with a man that runs a hot dog cart in John-st. Don'twant anything closer'n that, do you!"

  Then Piddie'd look kind of foolish, and go off and call down some onegood and hard, just to relieve his feelin's.

  First thing I knew, though, Piddie was havin' star-chamber sessions witha seedy-lookin' piker that wore an actor's overcoat and a brunettecollar that looked like it had been wished onto his neck about lastThanksgivin'. They'd get together in a corner of the reception room andwhisper away for half an hour on a stretch. If it hadn't been Piddie,I'd put it down for a hard-luck tale with a swift touch for a curtain;but no one that ever took a second look at Piddie would ever wastetheir time tryin' a touch on him. So I guessed the gent was a bucketshoptout who was tryin' to interest Piddie in some kind of a deal.

  Still, I couldn't get any picture of Piddie takin' a chance with realmoney. It wa'n't until I seen him walkin' around stary-eyed one day, andgettin' nervous by the minute, that I could believe he's really beenrung in. He was goin' through all the motions, though, of a man that'sshoved everything, win or lose, on the red, and it was a circus to keeptabs on him. He makes a bluff at bein' awful busy with the billbook; buthe couldn't stay at the desk more'n three minutes at a spell. Inside ofan hour I counted four times that he washed his hands and six drinks ofwater that he had.

  "You'll be damp enough to need wringin' out, if you keep that up," saysI.

  "Keep what up?" says he. Honest, he was so rattled he didn't knowwhether he was usin' the roller towel or runnin' over the ticker tape.Half an hour before lunchtime he skips out and leaves word with me thatmaybe he'll be back late.

  "All right," says I. "If the boss calls for you I'll tell him he'll haveto shut down the shop until you blow in again."

  Maybe you've seen symptoms like that in a hired man. It gen'rally meansthat there's somethin' doin' in ponies or margins, and that next paydayis goin' to seem a long ways off. If I'd been asked to give a guess, Ishould have put it as about two hundred bucks that Piddie had throwninto the market. Anyway, it wa'n't enough to knock the props out ofcall-money quotations; so I was lettin' Piddie do all the worryin'.

  He didn't show back at twelve-thirty, nor at twelve-forty-five. Some oneelse did, though. She was a nice little lady, one of the smooth-haired,big-eyed kind, as soft talkin' and as gentle actin' as the heroine in"No Weddin' Cake for Her'n," just before she gets to the weepy scenes.You could see by the punky mill'nery and the last season's drygoods thatshe'd just drifted in from Mortgagehurst, New Jersey. The little snoozershe has by the hand was a cute one, though. When he gets a glimpse of mysunset top piece he sings out:

  "O-o-o-o, mama! Burny, burn!"

  "Why, Hemmingway!" says she. "I am surprised. Naughty, naughty!"

  "Don't worry, lady," says I. "The kid's got it dead right--it's one ofthem kind."

  Then I wets my finger and shows him how it'll go "S-z-z!" when I touchit off. That gets a laugh out of little Hemmingway, and in a minutewe're all good friends.

  She's Mrs. Piddie, of course, and she's a brick. Say, how is it thesetwo-by-fours can pull out such good ones so often? Why, if she'd beengot up accordin' to this year's models, and could have thrown the frontshe ought to, she'd have been fit for a first-tier box at the grandop'ra.

  "Chee!" thinks I. "Did she pick Piddie in the dark?"

  She'd come in to drag him out shoppin' and hypnotize him into loosenin'up. It was a case of gettin' things for little Hemmingway.

  "Me, I go have new s'oes, an' new coat wif pockets too," says he.

  Say, they wins me, kids like that do. There's some I ain't got any usefor, the kind brought up in hotels and boardin' houses that learn toplay to the gallery before they can feed themselves, and others I couldname; but clean, grinnin' youngsters, with big eyes that take ineverything, they're good to have around. And, little Hemmy was a star. Igot so int'rested showin' him things in the office that I clean forgotabout Piddie and what he was up to.

  "He will be back soon, won't he?" says Mrs. Piddie.

  Now if you give me time I can slick up an answer so it'll sound like thetruth and mean something else; but as an offhand liar I'm a frost.Somehow I always has to swaller somethin' before I can push out a colddope. Course, I knew he'd got to be back before long; but I see rightoff that this wa'n't any day for a fam'ly reunion. Piddle wa'n't goin'to be any too sociable by dinner time that night, 'less'n he'd hit upthe bucketshop, which the chances was against. So it was my turn to makea foxy play.

  "He's due here before long, that's a fact," says I, "but there's notellin'. You see, there's a big deal on, and Mr. Piddie's gone downtown,and----"

  "Oh!" says Mrs. Piddle, her eyes shinin'. "Then he has some importantbusiness engagement?"

  You couldn't help seein' how she had it framed up,--the whole CorrugatedTrust and half of Wall Street holdin' its breath while hubby, J.Hemmingway Piddie, Esq., worked his giant intellect for the good of thecountry.

  "That's it," says I. "I couldn't say pos'tive that he'd be as late asfour o'clock; but----"

  "Oh! then we'll not wait," says she, "Come, Hemmingway, we must gohome."

  "Don't I det my new s'oes?" says Hemmy.

  There was a proposition for you! The kid was runnin' true to form andstickin' to the main line. No side issues for him! Pop might be a bigman,
and all that; but his size didn't cut much ice alongside of thenew-shoes prospect. Things was beginnin' to look squally, and Mrs.Piddie's mouth corners was saggin' some, when I has a thought.

  "Hold on," says I. "Maybe he's left a note or something for you."

  See what it is to have a little wad stowed away in the southwest cornerof your jeans? I slips through into the main office, gets one of thetypewriter girls to address an envelope to Mrs. Piddie, jams a sawbuckinto it, and comes out smilin'.

  "Maybe this'll do as well as Pop himself," says I. "Feels like it hadlong green in it," and the last I heard of little Hemmy he was tellin'the elevator man about the "new s'oes" that was comin' to him.

  "It's a fool way to lend out coin," thinks I; "but what's the diff? Thatkid's got his hopes set on bein' shod to-day, and Piddie's bound to makegood sometime."

  Piddie didn't look it, though, when he drifts in about one-thirty. Ifhe'd had a load on his mind earlier in the day, he'd got somethin' morenow. Just sittin' at the desk doin' nothin made the dew come out on hisnoble brow like it was the middle of August. He was too much of a wreckto stand any joshin'; so I let him alone, not even tellin' him about thefam'ly visit.

  The first thing I knows he comes over to me, his jaw set firmer'n Iever see it shut before, and a kind of shifty look in his eyes. He handsme a letter and a package.

  "Torchy," says he, "take these down to that address just as soon as youcan. You've got to go quick. Understand?"

  "Fourth speed, advanced spark, that's me!" says I, grabbin' my hat andcoat. "Free track for the Piddie special! Honk, honk!" and I jams him upagainst the letterpress as I makes a rush for the door.

  When I gets into the subway I sizes up the stuff I'm carryin'. Well say,it ain't often I gets real curious; but this was one of them times. Istarted in by rollin' a pencil under the envelope flap while the gum wasmoist. Not that I'd made up my mind to rubber; but just so's I could ifI took the notion. And, sure enough, I got the notion, or it got me.

  Chee! I near slid off the rattan seat when I reads that note. Guess Imust have sat there, starin' bug-eyed and lookin' batty, from 14th toWall. Do you know what that mush-head of a Piddie was at? He was givin'an order to bolster up Blitzen by buyin' up to a hundred thousandshares, and in the package was a bunch of gilt-edged securities to coverthe margins.

  Now wouldn't that jiggle the grapes on sister's new lid? Piddie, anarrow-gauge, dime-pinchin' ink-slinger, doin' the bull act like he wasa sooty plute from Pittsburg! That's what comes of swallowin' theget-rich-fast bug.

  Well, when I gets out at the Street I didn't have any programme planned.First I strolls down to the number on the letter and takes a look at thebuildin'. That was enough. There was some good names on the halldirectory; but most of 'em was little, two-room, fly-by-night firms,with a party 'phone for a private wire and a mail-order list boughtoff'm patent medicine concerns. The people Piddie was doin' businesswith was that kind.

  Next I takes a walk around into Broad-st., where the mounted cops keepthe big-wind bunch roped in so's they can't break loose and pinch thedoorknobs off the Subtreasury. The ear-muff brigade was lettin'themselves out in fine style, tradin' in Ground Hog bonds, Hoboken gas,Moonshine preferred, and a whole lot of other ten-cent shares, asearnest as if they was under cover and biddin' on Standard Oil firsts.

  While I was lookin' 'em over, wonderin' what to do next, I spots AbeyWinowski on the fringe of the push. And say, it wa'n't so long ago thatAbey was wearin' sky-blue pants and a Postal shield, trottin' out withmessages from District Ten. But here he is, with a checked ulster and afive-dollar hat, writin' figures on a pad.

  "Hello, Motzie!" says I. "How long since they lets the likes of youinside the ropes?"

  "Hello, Torchy!" says he. "Got any orders?"

  "I'm lined with 'em," says I. "What's good?"

  "Blitzen," says he. "It's on the seesaw; but'll fetch fifty."

  "Ain't it a wildcat?" says I.

  "Just from the menagerie," says he. "Goin' to take a dollar flyer?"

  "Guess I'll see what my brokers has to say first," says I.

  With that I goes around to a little joint I knows of, where they has aboard for unlisted stocks, and I sets back and watches the curvesBlitzen was makin'. First she'd jump four or five points, and then she'dsettle back heavy. The Curb was playin' tag with it; that was all, sofar as I could see. Nice lot of Hungry Jakes to feed withint'rest-bearin' securities!

  About fifteen minutes before the market closed I quit and moseyed alonguptown, just killin' time and tryin' to figure out what ought to bedone. Course, I didn't have any idea of playin' private detective andshowin' Piddie up to Mr. Robert,--that's out of my line,--but I didn'tlike the scheme of just chuckin' the bonds back at him and let him getaway with any bluff about my interferin' with something I didn'tunderstand at all. Besides, if the returns showed that he'd have won onthe deal, what was to hinder his tryin' the same trick again next timehe got the chance? That wouldn't been a fair shake for the firm.

  Say, I worked my thinker overtime that trip; but I couldn't dig up athing that was worth savin' from the scrap basket, and when I strolledinto the office just about closin' time I wa'n't any nearer to knowin'what to do than when I started.

  Most everyone had left when I pushes through the gate and takes a peekinto Piddie's office. He was there. And, say, for a speakin' likeness ofa dropped egg that's hit the floor instead of the toast, he was it! He'sslumped all over the desk, with his head in his hands, and his hair allmussed up, and his shoulders lopped. I always suspicioned he was builtout with pneumatic pads, and blew himself up in the mornin' before hebuttoned on the four-inch collar that kept his chin up; but I did'ntguess he had a rubber backbone. It was a case of fush with Piddie. Hewas all in. What I could see of his face had about as much color to itas a sheet of blottin' paper.

  Layin' on the floor was a map of the whole disaster. It was a WallStreet extra, with a scarehead story of how Blitzen had kept 'emguessin' all day and then, in the last quarter of an hour of tradin',had gone bumpin' the bumps from twenty-eight down to almost nothin' atall. I didn't stop to read the whole thing; but I read enough to findout that Blitzen had gone soarin' on a false alarm, and that when thefacts was give out right the balloon had took fire. And there wasPiddie, still fallin'!

  "Hello," says I. "You look like a boned ham that's in need of the acidbath and sawdust stuffin'. What's queered you so sudden?"

  He jumps and tries to pull himself together when he first hears me; butafter he finds who it is he goes to pieces again and flops back in thechair groanin'.

  "Is it new mown hay of the lungs, or too many griddle cakes on thestomach?" says I.

  But he only gasps and groans some more. Maybe I should of felt sorry forhim; but, knowin' the sort of sprung kneed near crook he was, I didn't.He was scared mostly, and he was doin' all the sympathizin' for himselfthat was needed. All of a sudden he braces up and looks at his watch.

  "Perhaps you didn't get there in time?" says he.

  "With the letter and package?" says I. "Watcher take me for? Think I gotmucilage on my shoes? I was there on time, all right."

  "Oh, mercy!" says he. "Torchy, I'm a ruined man."

  "You look it," says I; "but cheer up. You never was much account anyway;so there's no great harm done."

  Then he begins to blubber, and leak brine, and take on like a woman witha sick headache. "It wasn't my fault," says he. "I was led into it.Torchy, tell them I was led into it! You'll believe that, won't you?"

  "Cert," says I. "I'll make affidavit I seen 'em snap the ring in yournose. But what's it all about?"

  "Oh, it's something awful that's happened to me," he wails. "It's tooterrible to talk about. You'll know to-morrow. I sha'n't be alive then,Torchy."

  "Ain't swallowed a buttonhook, have you?" says I.

  Next he begins throwin' a fit about what's goin' to become of the missusand the kid. Say, I've been in at two or three acts like this before,and I gen'rally notice that at about such a stage they
play that card,the wife and kid. Your real tough citizen don't, nor your realgent,--they shuts their mouths and takes what's comin' to 'em,--but Mr.Weakback has a sudden rush of mem'ry about the folks at home, andsqueals like a pup with his tail shut in the door.

  "Ah, say," says I, "cut it out! You ought to move up to Harlem and learnto pound the pipes. You're a healthy plunger, you are, sneakin' bondsout of the safe to stack up against a crooked game, and then playin' thebaby act when you lose out! Come now, ain't that the awful thing that'shappened to you?"

  He couldn't have opened up freer if he'd been put through the thirddegree. I gets the story of his life then, with a handkerchiefaccomp'niment,--all about the house he's tryin' to buy through thebuildin' loan, and the second-hand bubble he wants to splurge on 'causethe neighbors have got 'em, and how he was tipped off to this sure thingin Blitzen by a party that had always been a friend of his but couldn'tget hold of the stuff to turn the trick himself. He put in all the finepoints, even to the way he came to have a chance at the safe.

  "If I could only put them back!" says he, sighin'.

  "What then?" says I. "Next time I s'pose you'd swipe the whole series,wouldn't you?"

  If you could have heard him tell how good he'd be you'd think practicin'a little crooked work now and then was the only sure way to learn how tokeep straight.

  "Piddie," says I, "I don't want to hurt your feelin's, but you act to melike a weak sister. If I was to do what the case calls for, this thingought to go to the boss."

  "Please don't, Torchy! Please don't!" says he, scrabblin' down on hishands and knees.

  "Nix on that!" says I. "This is no carpet-layin' bee. I'm no squealer,anyway; besides, I had a little interview with Mrs. Piddie and the kidthis noon, and after seein' them I can't rub it in like you deserve.What I've seen and heard I'm goin' to forget. Now sit up straight whileI break the news to you gentle. I went down there to-day, just as youtold me."

  "Yes, I know," he groans, squirmin'.

  "But I didn't like the looks of the joint; so I didn't dump the bonds.There they are. Now see they get back where you found 'em!"

  Talk about your hallelujah praise meetin's! Piddie was havin' one, allby himself--when the inside door opens and Mr. Roberts steps out of hisoffice.

  "I'll take care of those bonds, Mr. Piddie," says he.

  Chee! what a stunner! Mr. Robert had been in there all the time, writin'private letters, and had took in the whole business.

  Did he give Piddie the fire on the spot? Nah! Mr. Robert carries arounda frigid portico; but he's got a warm spot inside. He says he's mightysorry to hear how near Piddie'd come to goin' wrong; but he's glad itturned out the way it did, and if Piddie'll say how much they rung himin for on Blitzen he'll be happy to make good right there.

  And how much do you guess? A pair of double X's! He'd worried himselfnear sick, worked himself up desp'rate, and had finished by doin'something that stood to get him put away for ten or fifteen years--allfor forty bucks!

  "Piddie," says I, "for a tinhorn, you're a wonder! But, say, when youget home to-night tell that kid of yours I want to see them new shoes ofhis before he gets the toes all stubbed out."