Torchy

by Sewell Ford

  CHAPTER XV

  BATTING IT UP TO TORCHY

  Nobody had to point him out to me. I hadn't been holdin' down the chairbehind the brass gate more'n two days before I knew who was the livingjoke on the Corrugated Trust Company's force. It's Uncle Dudley, ofcourse.

  And, say, my coppin' that out don't go to prove I'm a Mr. Cute. Anymush-head could have picked him after one glimpse of the old vintagePrince Albert, the back number silk lid, and the white Chaunceys hewears on each side of his face. That get-up would be good for a quietsmile even over in Canarsie; but when you come to plant it in the midstof such a sporty aggregation as the Corrugated carries on thepayroll--why, you've got the comic chuckles comin' over fast.

  "Say, Piddie," says I the second morning, after watchin' it blow in,"who's the seed, eh?"

  "That?" says Piddie. "Oh, that's old Dudley."

  "Does he wear the uniform reg'lar," says I, "or is he celebratin' someanniversary?"

  And Piddie almost allows himself to grin as he explains how that's thesame costume Dudley has come down to work in every day for the lastfifteen years.

  "Well, it's a flossy outfit, all right," says I. "What is he, one of thedirectors?"

  No, he wa'n't. He's some sort of subassistant auditor with a salary ofeighteen per. You know the kind--one of these deadwood specimens thatstand a show of gettin' the prunin' hook every time there's a shake-up.Most every office has a few of 'em, hangin on like last year's oakleaves in the park; but it ain't often they can qualify as comicsupplements.

  Not that Uncle Dudley tries to be humorous. He's the quietest, meekestold relic you ever saw, slidin' in soft and easy with his hat off, andwalkin' almost as though he had his shoes in his hand. But the fadedumbrella under one arm and the big buttonhole bouquet he always wearsputs him in the joke book class without takin' the face lambrequins intoaccount at all.

  Can I let all that get by me without passin' out some josh? You can seeme, can't you? Never mind all the bright and cunnin' remarks I sprung onUncle Dudley now; but for awhile there I made a point of puttin' oversomething fresh every day. Why, it was a cinch!

  All the comeback I ever got out of him, though, was that batty oldsmile of his, kind of sad and gentle, as if I was remindin' him of timesgone by. And there ain't a lot of satisfaction in that, you know. Now, Ican chuck the giddy persiflage at Piddie day in and day out, and enjoydoin' it, because it always gets him so wild. Also there's more or lessthrill to slippin' the gay retort across to Old Hickory Ellins now andthen, because there's a giddy chance of gettin' fired for it. But to rubit into a non-resister like Uncle Dudley--well, what's the use?

  So after awhile I cut it out altogether, leavin' him for such amateurcut-ups as Izzy Budheimer and Flannel Haggerty to practice on. Thenlittle by little me and old Dudley got more or less chummy, what with mesteerin' him around to my fav'rite dairy lunch joint and all that. And,say, we must have been a great pair, sittin' side by side in thearmchairs, puttin' away sweitzer sandwiches and mugs of chickory blend;him in his tall lid, and with his quiet, old timy manners, and me--well,I guess you get the tableau.

  I used to like hearin' him talk, he uses such a soothin', genteel brandof conversation; nothing fancy, you know, but plain, straightaway goods.Mostly he tells me about his son, who's livin' out in Californiasomewhere and is just branchin' out in the cement block buildin'business. Son is messin' in politics more or less too; mixin' it upwith the machine, and gettin' the short end of the returns every trip.But it's on account of this reform stunt of his that the old gent seemsto be so proud of him, not appearin' to care whether he ever got electedto anything or not.

  He don't say so much about the married daughter that he lives with overin Jersey; but I don't think much about that until after I've let himtow me over to dinner once and met Son in Law Bennett. He's a flashyproposition, this young Mr. Bennett is, havin' an interest in a curbbrokerage firm that rents window space on Broad-st. and has desk roomdown on William. Let him tell it, though, and, providin' some of hisdeals go through, he's goin' to have Morgan squealin' for help beforethe year is out.

  And I find that at home Uncle Dudley is rated somewhere between thefam'ly cat and the front doormat. Mr. Bennett don't exactly gag the oldman and lock him in the cellar. He ignores him when he can, and when hehas to notice him he makes it plain that he's standin' the disgrace aswell as he can.

  "So you came over with the old sport, did you?" says Bennett to me."Batty old duffer, eh? That comes of being a dead one for so long.Manages to hang on with the Corrugated, though, don't he? He'd better,too! I'm not running any old folks' home here."

  But it wa'n't to show off how he stood with his son in law that UncleDudley had lugged me along. He'd got so used to bein' dealt out for atwospot that he didn't seem to mind. He didn't claim to be anything moreeven at the office.

  It's his flower garden, out back of the house, that Uncle Dudley had gotme 'way out there to see; and, while I ain't any expert on that line ofdisplays, I should say this posy patch of his had some class to it.Anyway, seein' it, and findin' out how he rolls off the mattress atsunrise every mornin' to tend it, lets me in for a new view of him. It'sthis little garden patch and the son out West that makes life worthlivin' for him, in spite of Son in Law Bennett.

  "Say, Dudley," says I, "why don't you work a combination of the two; goout where you can raise roses all winter, if the dope these railroadads. sling out is straight, and be with your son too?"

  "I--I can't do that, just yet," says he, sort of hesitatin'. "You see,he hasn't seen me for twelve years, and since then I have--er--well,I've been slipping backward. He doesn't know what a failure I've made oflife, and if I gave up here and went on to him--why----"

  "I'm on," says I. "He'd spot you for one of the down-and-outers. Butyou do get it rubbed in here good and plenty, don't you?"

  "From Bennett?" says he. "Oh, he is right, I suppose. He knows howuseless I am. But we cannot all succeed, can we? Some of us must stay atthe bottom and prop the ladder."

  One thing about Uncle Dudley, he had no whine comin'. He takes it allmeek and cheerful, and so far as I could make out he's most as usefularound the office as a lot of others that gets chesty whenever theythink what would happen to the concern if they should be sick for aweek. Anyway, there's frequent calls for old Dudley to straighten outthis or that; but somehow he never seems to get credit for bein' muchmore than a sort of a walkin' copybook that remembers what other peopledon't want to lumber up their valuable brains with. Maybe it's the whitemud guards, or his habit of lettin' anyone boss him around, that keepshim down.

  And I expect things would have gone on that way, until he either droppedout or got the blue envelope some payday, if it hadn't been for this lidliftin' business up at Albany. Course, you've read how they uncoveredfirst one lot of grafters and then another, and fin'lly, with that lastswipe of the muck rake, got the Corrugated rung into the mess? And, say,anyone would think, from some of the papers, that we was all a bunch ofcrooks down here, spendin' our time feedin' wads of hundred-dollar billsto the yellow dog. Maybe it don't stir up Mr. Robert some thorough,though!

  "Why," I heard him say to the old man, "it's a beastly outrage, that'swhat it is! All the fellows at the club are chaffing me about it, youknow. And besides it's disturbing business frightfully. Look at thetumble our shares took yesterday! I say, Governor, we must send out adenial."

  "Huh!" growls Old Hickory. "Who cares a blinkety blanked blank what theysay we did? Let 'em prove it!"

  Then the next day them checks was sprung on the investigatin' committee,and it looked as though they'd made out their case against theCorrugated. Perhaps there wa'n't doin's on the seventeenth floor thatmornin'! Clear out where I sat I could hear the boss callin' for firstone man and then another, and Piddie is turkeyin' in and out so excitedhe don't know whether he's on duty or runnin' bases. Once, when he stopsto lean against the spring-water bottle and wipe his dewy brow, I slipsup behind and taps him quick on the shoulder.

  "Ye-e-e-es,
sir!" says he, before he sees who it is.

  "Never mind, Piddie," says I. "I was goin' to ask you 'Guilty or notguilty?' But what's the use? Anyone can see it was you that did it."

  "You--you impudent young sauce box!" he begins. "How dare you----"

  "Ah, save that for the subpoena server," says I. "He'll be in hereafter you in a minute. And, say, my guess is that you'll get about tenyears on the rockpile."

  When the special directors' meetin' gets under way, though, and the bigguns of the Corrugated law force got on the job, there was less noiseand more electricity in the air. Honest, with all that tiptoein' andwhisperin' and serious looks bein' passed around, I didn't even have thegall to guy one of the new typewriter girls. Kind of gets on yournerves, a thing of that kind does, and if a squad of reserves hadmarched in and pinched the whole outfit, I shouldn't have been so muchsurprised.

  Right in the midst of it too there comes my three rings on the buzzer,and in I sneaks where they're holdin' the inquest. Say, they're allsittin' around the big mahogany directors' table, with the old man atthe head, lookin' black and ugly, and grippin' a half smoked cigar buttbetween his teeth. I could see at a glance they hadn't thrown any scareinto him yet. He was just beginning to fight, that's all.

  "Boy," says he, "bring in Dudley."

  "Yes, sir," says I.

  But, say, my heels dragged some as I went out. Course I didn't know whatthey wanted of the old boy; but it didn't look to be such a wild guessthat they'd picked him to play the goat part. I finds him perched up onhis stool, calm and serene, workin' away on the ledgers as industriousas if nothin' special was goin' on.

  "Dudley," says I, "are you feelin' strong?"

  "Why, Torchy," says he, "I am feeling about as usual, thank you."

  "Well, brace yourself then," says I; "for there's rough goin' ahead.You're wanted in on the carpet."

  "Me?" says he. "Mr. Ellins wants me?"

  "Uh-huh," says I, "him and the rest of 'em. But don't let 'em put anyspell on you. It's your cue now to forget the meek and lowly business. Iknow you ain't strong for bluffin' through a game; but for the love ofsoup put up a front to-day!"

  Dudley, he only smiles and shakes his head. Then off he toddles, wearin'his old ink-stained office coat and even keepin' on the green eye-shade.

  Well, I don't know how long they had him on the grill; but it couldn'thave been more'n half an hour, for along about three o'clock I strollsinto the audit department, and there's old Dudley back on his perchwritin' away again.

  "Say, are you it?" says I.

  WE MUST HAVE BEEN A GREAT PAIR.]

  "Why, how is that?" says he.

  "Did they tie anything to you?" says I. "You know--con you into takin'the blame, or anything like that?"

  "Blame for what?" says he. "I don't believe I understand. But nothing ofthe sort was mentioned. I was merely given some instructions about mywork."

  "Oh!" says I. "That's all, eh? And you've gone right at it, have you?"

  "No," says he. "The fact is, Torchy, I am writing out my resignation."

  "What! Quittin'?" says I. "Say, don't you see what a hole that puts youin? Why, it makes you the goat for fair! If you do that you'll need bailinside of forty-eight hours--and you won't get it. Look here, Dudley,take my advice and tear that up."

  "But I can't, Torchy," says he, "really, I can't."

  "Why not?" says I. "You've got a couple of hands, ain't you? And what'llyou do for another job if you chuck this one? Say, why in blazes are youso anxious to take your chances between Sing Sing and the bread line?"

  He's there with the explanation, all right, and here's the way itstands: Uncle Dudley has been called on because his partic'lardouble-entry trick is to keep the run of the private accounts. All theywant him to do is to take descriptions of a couple of checks, dig upthe stubs, and juggle his books so the record will fit in with a nicenew set of transactions that's just been invented for the purpose.

  "But what checks?" says I. "The five thousand plunkers to Mutt & Mudd?"

  "Why, yes," says he. "How did you know?"

  "Ah, how did I----Say, Dudley, ain't you been readin' the paperslately?" says I.

  Would you believe it? He don't know any more about what's in the airthan a museum mummy knows of Lobster Square. This little private cyclonethat's been turnin' the office upside down ain't so much as ruffled hiswhiskers. Checks are checks to him, and these special trouble makersdon't give him any chills up the back at all. He's been told, though, touse the acid bottle on his books and write in a new version.

  "Well, why not do it?" says I. "What's that to you?"

  "Why, don't you see," says he, "it would be making a false entry,and--I--I----Well, I've never done such a thing in my life, Torchy, andI can't begin now."

  And, say, what do you know about that, eh? Just a piece of phonybookkeepin' that he don't even have to put his name to, his job gone ifhe don't follow orders, and him almost to the age limit anyway, withSon in Law Bennett ready to shove him on the street the minute he getsthe sack!

  "Do you mean it?" says I.

  He puts his signature to the resignation and hands it over for me toread.

  "Say, Dudley," says I, lookin' him up and down, "this listens to me likea bughouse play of yours; but I got to admit that you do it sporty.There's no ocher streak in you."

  "I hoped you would understand," says he. "In the circumstances, it wasall I could do, you see."

  "What I see plainer'n anything else," says I, "is that if this goesthrough your career is bugged to the limit. When do you want this handedin?"

  "As soon as possible," says he. "I suppose I ought to resign at once."

  "Resign!" says I. "You'll be lucky if the old man don't have you chuckedthrough the window. Better be waitin' down in the lower corridor when Ispring this on Mr. Ellins."

  Nothin' of that kind for Uncle Dudley, though. He starts straightenin'up his desk as I goes out, as calm as though he was house cleanin' for avacation.

  And while I'm tryin' to make up my mind how to deliver this document tothe main stem and duck an ambulance ride afterwards, the directors'meetin' breaks up. So I finds Old Hickory alone in his private officeand slips it casual on the pad in front of him.

  "Here, what's this?" he snorts, callin' me back as he opens up thesheet. "Eh? Dudley! Resigns, does he! What, that dried up, goat faced,custard brained, old----Say, boy; ask him what the grizzly grindstoneshe means by----"

  "I did," says I, "and, if you want to know, he's quittin' because he'stoo straight to cook up the books the way you told him."

  "Cook up the books!" gasps Old Hickory, gettin' raspb'ry tinted in theface and displayin' neck veins like a truck horse. "He's been welshing,has he? Perhaps he'd like to turn State's witness? Well, by the greatsizzling skyrockets, if that's his trick, I'll give him enough of----"

  "Excuse me, Mr. Ellins," I breaks in, "but you're slippin' your clutch.Tricks! Why, he ain't even wise to what you want him to do it for. Allhe knows is that it's crooked, and he renigs on a general proposition.And, say, when a man's as straight as that, with the workhouse starin'him in the face, he's too valuable to lose, ain't he?"

  "Wha-a-at?" gurgles Old Hickory.

  "Besides," says I, hurryin' the words to get 'em all out before anyviolent scene breaks loose, "knowin' all he does about them Mutt & Muddchecks, and with what he don't know about the case, it wouldn't behardly safe to have him roamin' the streets, would it? Now I leave it toyou."

  Say, I was lookin' Old Hickory right in the eye, ready to dodge theinkstand or anything else, while I was puttin' that over, and for aminute I thought it was comin' sure. But while he can get as hot underthe collar as anyone I ever saw, and twice as quick, he don't go clearoff his nut any of the time.

  "Young man," says he, calmin' down and motionin' me to a chair, "asusual, you seem to be more or less well informed on this matteryourself. Now let's have the rest of it."

  And just like that, all of a sudden, it's batted up to me. So I lets itcome, wi
th all the details about Uncle Dudley's frosty home life, andthe reformer son out West that still thinks father is makin' good. Hesits there and listens to every word too. Not that he comes in with thesympathetic sigh, or shows signs of being troubled by mist in the eyecorners. He just throws in an occasional grunt now and then and drumshis fat finger-tips on the chair arm.

  "Huh!" says he. "Babes and sucklings! But I've had worse advice that hascost me a lot more. Well, I suppose an old fool like that is dangerousto have drifting around. But I don't want him here just now, either.Um-m-m! Where did you say this son of his lived?"

  "Just out of Los Angeles," says I.

  "All right," says Old Hickory. "Tell him he goes west Tuesday astraveling auditor to our second vice president. He'll bring up at LosAngeles about the middle of the month--and about that time it may happenthat he'll be retired on full pay. But I'll keep this resignation, as acuriosity."

  Now don't ask me to describe how old Dudley takes it; for when he getsthe full partic'lars of the decision it near keels him over. And whatpart of it do you say tickles him most? That the books don't have to bejuggled!

  "It wasn't like Mr. Ellins to countenance an act of that sort, not inthe least," says he, "and I am very glad that he has changed his mind."

  "Say, Dudley," says I, "you're a wonder, you are."

  And it was all I could do to keep from askin' him if he thought he ownedthe only bottle of ink eradicator there was in New York.

  Do I know who did fix up them entries? Well, by the nervous motions of acertain party next mornin', I could give a guess.

  "Piddie," says I, "if they ever get you on the stand, you want to wearinterferin' pads between your knees, so they won't hear the bonesrattle."