How about him, eh?--the two-spot of clubs in billiard cloth and buttons
at the door. There's no tellin' what the Studio'll have next--maybe a
sidewalk canopy and a carriage caller. Swifty Joe's gettin' ambitious.
Me gettin' mixed up with that Newport push has gone to Swifty's head
like a four-line notice does to the pompadour of a second row chorus
girl. First off he says it's a shame I don't have a valet.
"Say," says I, "don't it keep me busy enough remindin' you that I'm
still able to wear my own clothes, without puttin' on an extra hand?"
But after this last stunt he broke out again; so we compromised on
Congo. I thought Swifty'd had him made to order, uniform and all; but he
says he found him, just as he stands, doin' the stray act over on
Sixth-ave. He'd come up from New Orleans with a fortune-tellin' gent
that had got himself pinched for doing a little voudoo turn on the side,
and as Congo didn't have much left but his appetite, I put him on the
pay-roll at two per and found. And say, I'm stung, at that. To look at
him you'd think a ham sandwich would run him over; but he's got a
capacity like a shop-lifter's pocket. For three days I tried to feed
him up on the retail plan, and then I let out the contract to a
free-lunch supply concern.
Sure, it gives the joint kind of a swell look, havin' him on the door,
and if it didn't act the same on Swifty's head I wouldn't kick.
On the dead now, I don't care so much about loomin' up in the picture.
There's them that it suits down to the ground, and that shows up well in
front; and then again, there's a lot of people gets the spot light on
'em continual who'd be better off in the shade. I'm a top-gallery boy,
by rights, and that's where you'll find me most of the time; but now and
then I get dragged down into the wings with a note. Yes, yes, I'm just
back after one of them excursions.
You see, after we'd shunted Sadie's Baron back on to the goulash
circuit, where he belonged, and Sadie and Pinckney had got over their
merry fit and skipped off to wake up another crowd of time
assassinators, at Rockywold, or some such place as that, I says to
myself, "Shorty," says I, "you stick to the physical-culture game and
whittle out the by-plays."
That's just what I was doin', too, when an A. D. T. shows up with a
prepaid josh from Pinckney, givin' me a special invite to run out and
help 'em celebrate.
"Any come-back?" says the boy.
"No, sonny," says I; "you can cut the wire."
Say, Pinckney means all right, and he's done me some good turns; but
that don't put me in his class, does it? Nay, nay, says I. Here's one
dinner party that I ducks. And with that I gets busy on one of my
reg'lars who's bein' trained to go against two months of foreign
cookin'. I hadn't more'n finished with him, though, when there comes
another yellow envelop. This one was from Sadie, and it was a hurry
call. She didn't say much; but I could see heel-prints of trouble all
over it.
"Me for Rockywold," says I, chuckin' a collar in a suit-case and
grabbin' a time-table off the rack.
Yes, that was different. Maybe I'm a jay to cast myself for any such
part; but since Sadie an' me had that little reunion, I've kind of felt
that sooner or later she might be let in for a mix-up where I'd come in
handy, and when it was pulled off I wanted to be within hail.
Course, I wasn't layin' out no hero act; like showin' up with a can of
gasolene just as the tank ran dry, or battin' the block off'm a villyun
in a dress suit. I was just willin' to hang around on the edges and make
myself useful generally. Not that I'm followin' the she-male protectin'
business regular. But with Sadie it's another thing. We used to play in
the same alley, you know; and she don't forget it, even if she has come
into a bunch of green money as big as a haystack.
She was on hand when I dropped off the smoker, sittin' in the Rockywold
station rig and lookin' for me with both eyes. And say, what a
difference it makes to clothes who wears 'em!
"It's bully of you to come, Shorty," says she.
"Oh, I don't know," says I. "I guess good judges wouldn't call it a
medal play. What's loose?"
"Buddy," says she.
For a minute I was lost, until she asks if I don't remember the
youngster. "Oh, sure!" says I. "That kid brother of yours, with the
eighteen-karat ringlets and a girly kind of face? The Sisters used to
dress him up in a Fauntleroy suit for the parochial school fair, and
make him look like a picture on an Easter card. Nice, cute little chap,
eh?"
"He was cute once--ten or twelve years ago," says Sadie. "He isn't as
cute as he was. He doesn't wear ringlets now--he likes rings better. And
that's why I had to send for you, Shorty. I couldn't tell anyone else.
Oh, the little wretch! If it wasn't for mother I'd cure him of a lot of
things."
Well, we had some family history on the way out, beginnin' with the way
Buddy'd been spoiled at home, takin' in a few of the scrapes Sadie had
helped him out of, and endin' with his blowin' in at Rockywold without
waitin' for a bid from anyone. Seems he'd separated himself from the
last stake Sadie had handed out--nothin' new, same old fool games--and
now he wanted a refill, just as a loan, until he could play a tip he'd
got from a gent he'd met in a beanery.
"And I just wouldn't stand for that," says Sadie. "Those bookmakers are
nothing but swindlers, anyway. I know, because I bet ten dollars on a
race once, and didn't win."
Say, I had a lithograph of Buddy and his beanery tip goin' up against an
argument like that. Of course it wa'n't more'n two minutes before
Sadie'd got her Sullivan up. She offered Buddy his choice between a
railroad ticket home to mother, or nothing at all. Buddy wouldn't
arbitrate on those lines. He said he was a desperate man, and that she'd
be sorry before night. Sadie'd heard that before; so she just laughed
and said the steam-car ticket offer would be held open until night.
She didn't see anything more of Buddy for a couple of hours, and then
she caught him as he came up from the billiard-room. Bein' an expert on
such symptoms, she knew why he talked like his mouth was full of
cotton, but she couldn't account for the wad of bills he shook at her.
Buddy could. He'd run across a young Englishman down there who thought
he could handle a cue. Buddy had bet hot air against real money, and
trimmed his man.
"That wasn't the worst of it, though," said Sadie. "After I had got him
up to my rooms he pulled out the money again, to count it over, and out
came a three-inch marquise ring--an opal set with diamonds--that I knew
the minute I put my eyes on it. There were her initials on the inside,
too. Oh, no one but Mrs. Purdy Pell."
"Tut, tut!" says I. "You can easy square it with her."
"But that's just what I can't do," says Sadie. "She loves me about as
much as a tramp likes work. She tells folks that I make fools of her
boys. Her boys, mind you! She claims every stray man under twenty-five,
and when I came here she had three of them on the string. Goodness
knows, I didn't want them! They're only imitation men, anyway. And it
was her ring that Buddy had in his pocket."
"Maybe he hadn't lifted it," says I.
Sadie swallowed a bit hard at that; but she raps out the straight goods.
"Yes, he did," says she. "He must have sneaked it out of her room as he
went down stairs. Think of it! Stealing! He's done a lot of foolish
things before; but I didn't think he would turn out a crook. The Lord
knows where he gets that kind of blood from--not from the Sullivans, or
the Scannells, either. But I can't have him put away. There's mother.
And he won't mind a thing I say. Now what shall I do, Shorty?"
"Where's Buddy now?" says I.
"Locked in my clothes-closet, with his hands tied and a gag in his
mouth," says she. "Oh, I can handle him that way, big as he is; and I
wasn't going to take any more chances. But it's likely that Mrs. Pell
has missed her ring by this time and is raising a howl about it. What's
to be done?"
Say, there was a proposition for you! And me just a plain, every-day
mitt juggler that don't take thinkin' exercises reg'lar. "Guess you've
pushed the wrong button this time, Sadie," says I. "But I'll stay in
your corner till the lights go out. Is anyone else on?"
"Not a soul," says Sadie.
"That's some help," says I. "First we'll have a little talk with Buddy."
I couldn't see what good that would do, but it was up to me to make some
kind of a move.
When they'd landed us under the porte cochere--yes, you'd call it
stoppin' at the horse-block--I sails in like I'd come alone, and hunts
up Pinckney.
"What's all this about me bein' needed up here?" says I. "Goin' to make
me Queen of the May?"
"By Jove, Shorty!" says he, "that's a clever idea. We'll do it."
"Yes, you will--not," says I. "You'll cut it out. I ain't no wine agent,
and I left me rag doll to home; so if there's any funny stunts expected,
you tell 'em I've put on a sub. Oh, sure, I'll stay to dinner, but as
for leadin' any cotillions, change the card."
He gave his word they wouldn't spring anything like that on me, and then
he called up a waiter in knee pants, and had him show me up to my
quarters so I could get me gas-light clothes on before they unlocked the
dinin'-room doors. After I'd made a quick shift I slid over into the
next wing, followin' directions, and found Sadie.
"Mrs. Pell's on the war-path already," says she. "She's having it out
with her maid now. Come in."
She'd dug Buddy out of the wardrobe and had him propped up in a corner.
"Better unstopper him and take off the bandages," says I.
And say, he had a lot of language corked up inside of him. It wasn't
very sisterly, either, and most of it would have sounded better at a
race-track; but I shut the transom and motioned to Sadie to let him
spiel away, never chippin' in a word, only standing one side and lookin'
him over.
So far as the outside went he was a credit to the family--one of these
slim clean-cut youngsters, with a lot of curly red hair, pinky-white
cheeks, and a pair of blue eyes that had nine kinds of deviltry in 'em.
I could figure out how mother might be able not to see anything but good
in Buddy. Hanged if I could get very sore on him myself, and knowin' how
he'd been cuttin' up, at that.
"Well," says I, when he'd got out of breath some, "feel any better, do
you?"
"Huh!" says he, givin' me a squint sideways. "Some cheap skate of a
private detective, eh! You can't throw a scare into me that way, sis.
Chase him out."
"Buddy," says I, "give up the rings."
"How'd you know there was more than one?" says he.
"Give up," says I, holdin' out me hand.
He did it, like a little man. There was two besides the marquise; one an
emerald as big as a lima bean, and the other a solitaire spark that
could have been shoved up for three or four hundred. You see, a woman
like Mrs. Purdy Pell generally has a collection of those things lyin'
around on her dressin'-table, and; knew if Buddy'd got any, he'd made a
haul.
"I'm ashamed of you, Buddy," says I.
"You needn't be," says he. "I guess you'd do the same if you had a
sister that wanted to see you starve in the streets. Oh, you needn't
screw up your eyebrows, Sadie. It's so. And if you don't cough up a
thousand and let me go, I'll swipe anything in sight. I can stand being
pinched if you can afford to have me."
Sadie threw up her hands at that, and began walkin' up and down the
room. "Do you hear that?" says she. "That's the kind of a brother I've
got."
"It's something awful," says I. "Just hearin' him talk makes me feel
shivery. It beats the band how wicked some of these cigarette desperados
do get. Don't, Buddy, or I'll faint. I wouldn't dare stay in the room if
your sister wa'n't handy to tie you up again in case you started to cut
loose."
"I've got a good notion to push in your face," says he.
"Don't pay any attention to him, Shorty," says Sadie.
"I won't," says I; "but I'm scared stiff."
Just about then, though, Buddy seemed to have got a bulletin over a
special wire. He was gazin' at me with his mouth open and a pucker
between his eyes. "What Shorty?" says he. "Say, you ain't Shorty McCabe,
are you?"
"Not to you," says I. "I got to draw the line somewhere, and with bad
men I stands on my dignity. I'm Professor McCabe, sonny."
"Holy cats!" says he. "Honest, professor, I didn't mean a word of it. I
take it all back. Why say, I saw you put out the Kangaroo in two
rounds."
"Then you've had a liberal education," says I.
"Gee!" says he, lettin' off some more surprise, and bracin' himself back
in the chair like he was afraid of falling off.
Well say, I've been rode to my dressin'-room on shoulders, and welcomed
home from fights by mobs with brass bands; but for a gen-u-ine ovation I
guess Buddy's little stunt came as near bein' the real thing as any.
Dewey comin' back from the Philippines, or Mr. Get-There Hadley landin'
in St. Louis with the Standard Oil scalps, wa'n't in it with me bein'
discovered by Buddy Sullivan. I couldn't get the key to it then, but
I've mapped it out now. Most of his enthusiasm was owin' to the fact
that ever since he was fifteen Buddy'd based his claim to bein' a real
sport on my havin' come from the same block as he did.
Anyway, it was a lightnin' change. From being a holy terror, Buddy
calmed down to as peaceful a young gent as you'd want to meet. If I'd
just shake hands with him once and call it square, he'd follow any
program I'd a mind to plan out.
"Only don't let her send me home to maw," says he. "Say, they get up at
six in the morning there, and if I don't crawl down by seven maw lugs up
toast and eggs, and talks to me like I was a kid."
"Well, where'd you like to be shipped?" says I.
"Aw, come now, professor," says he. "You don't have to be told that.
There ain't but one place where a fellow like me can really live. You
get sis to put me back on Broadway with a few hundred in my clothes, and
I'll kiss the Book that she won't hear from me for a year."
"But how about this jewelry-collectin' fad of yours?" says I.
"Ah, I wasn't going to carry it off," says he. "I let her see I had it,
on purpose. I'll be good."
Well, Sadie was willin' to let it go at that, and we was just gettin'
this part of the mix-up straightened out lovely, when there came a rap
at the door.
"Quick," says Sadie. "They mustn't see Buddy or you either, Shorty!"
So Buddy was pushed into the closet again, and I dodges behind a tall
dressin'-mirror in the corner. It was a red-eyed girl with lumps in her
throat. She said she was Mrs. Purdy Pell's maid.
"Mrs. Pell's missed some rings," says she, "and we've been havin' words
over it. I told her there was a suspicious-looking young man in the
house that I'd seen comin' out of your rooms awhile ago, and I didn't
know but what you'd missed some things, too, ma'am."
"Ask Mrs. Pell to step over here for a minute," says Sadie.
"What's doing?" says I, after the maid had left.
"I don't know," says Sadie. "I've got to give that jewelry back to the
silly thing first; then we'll see."
So I handed the trinkets over, and it wasn't long before Mrs. Pell shows
up. And say, the minute them two came together the mercury dropped about
thirty degrees. Bein' behind the glass, I couldn't see; but I could
hear, and that was enough.
"Here are your lost rings," says Sadie.
That's her, every tick of the watch. If she was tackled by a
gyasticutus, she'd grab it by the horns.
"Oh!" says Mrs. Pell, gatherin' 'em in; "And how does it happen that you
have them?"
"I'll tell you to-morrow," says Sadie.
"I'd rather not wait that long," says Mrs. Pell. "I prefer to know now."
"You ought to be satisfied to get them back," says Sadie.
"Perhaps," says Mrs. Pell; "but I'm just a little curious to know how
they got away. My maid thinks the person who took them is still in the
house."
"If I listened to all the things my maid says--" begins Sadie.
"There are maids and maids," says Mrs. Pell. "I can trust mine. She saw
the man. More than that, Mrs. Dipworthy, she thinks he is hidden in your
rooms."
"She must have seen my brother," says Sadie, "or Professor McCabe."
"It's quite possible," says Mrs. Pell; "but I shall insist on having the
officers sent for."
"Why," says Sadie, "I might have taken them myself, just as a joke."
"Indeed!" says Mrs. Pell in a polite assault-and-battery tone. "Then
perhaps you will confess as much to the other guests? Will you?"
And that was a facer for Sadie. She'd been keeping a stiff lip up to
this, but she came to the scratch wabbly in her voice. "You wouldn't
want me to do that, would you?" says she.
"In justice to my maid, I must," says Mrs. Pell.
"Well," says Sadie, "if you're mean enough for that, I suppose I--"
But, say, I couldn't stay under cover any longer, with her bein' pushed
down the chute in that style. I was wise to her game all right. She
meant to stand up and take all that was coming, even if it put her down
and out, just to keep the hooks off that kid brother of hers. And me
loafin' back of the ropes with me hands in me pockets! I'd been a
welcher, wouldn't I?
"Did I hear my cue?" says I, steppin' out into the lime-light.
It was a tableau, for fair. Me and Mrs. Purdy Pell didn't do anything
but swap looks for a minute or so. I can't say just how pleased she was,
but I've had better views. She wasn't any dainty, lily-of-the-valley
sort. She was a good deal of a cabbage rose, I should say, and carried
more or less weight for age. She had an arm on her like a fore-quarter
of beef. I don't wonder that Purdy Pell skipped to Europe and didn't put
in any answer when the proceedin's came up.
"Are you the one?" says she.
"No, he isn't," says Sadie, speakin' up brisk.
"That's right," says I; "but it was me brought your finger sparks back
to light, ma'am."
"And where did you find them?" says Mrs. Pell, turnin' the third-degree
stare on me.
"That's a professional secret," says I, "which I can't give up just
yet."
"Oh, you can't!" says she. "This is interesting."
And with that she begins to size us up, one after the other. Oh, she had
us tied to the post, with nothin' to do but chuck the knives at us. For
a gallery play, it was the punkiest I ever put up. Here I'd come
splashin' in with both feet, like an amateur life-saver goin' to the
rescue, and I hadn't done anything but raise the tide.
Sadie didn't have a word to say. She was just bitin' her lip, and
gettin' white about the mouth from the mad in her. And say, maybe Her
Stoutness didn't enjoy watchin' us squirm. She was gettin' even for
every look one of her Willie boys had ever wasted on Sadie.
"We'll see if you two can be induced to confide your precious secret to
the police," says she. "I mean to find out who stole my rings."
She hadn't more than sent in that shot before the closet door opens, and
Buddy comes out, blinkin' like a bat.
"It's all over, ain't it?" says he.
"It is now," says I, and looks to see Mrs. Purdy Pell begin to holler:
"Stop thief!"
But it was a case of being off the alley again. Say, I'm glad I wasn't
backin' my guesses with good money that night, or I'd come home with my
pockets wrong side out. Ever see a hundred-and-eighty-pound fairy with a
double chin turn kittenish? That was her.
"Why, Mr. Sullivan!" she gurgles, throwin' him a Julia Marlowe goo-goo
glance.
"Hello, Dimples!" says Buddy. "Oh, they were your rings, were they? Then
it's all right. I just borrowed 'em to scare sister into a cat fit and
make her open up--just for a josh, you know."
"Why, why!" says Mrs. Pell, lookin' twisted, "is Mrs. Dipworthy your
sister?"
"Sure," says Buddy. "But say, Dimples, you're the very girl I was
wanting to see most. I've got another sure thing, good as a title
guarantee, for the Croton stakes, and if you'll back it for me we'll
make a killing. How about it, eh?"
"Oh, you reckless boy," says Mrs. Pell, tapping him on the cheek. "But
you did give me such a lovely tip at the Aqueduct, and--and we'll see.
Come, I want to talk to you," and she put out a wing for him to take.
As they drifted down towards the terrace Buddy turns and gives us the
sassy wink over his shoulder.
"Looks like we'd lost our job, Sadie," says I.
"The silly old moss-agate!" says Sadie.
Then I goes down and reports to Pinckney, and puts in the rest of the
evenin' bein' introduced as the gent that set the Baron Patchouli up in
the shoe-string business. I felt like I'd opened up a jack-pot on a
four-flush, but Pinckney and the rest seemed to be having a good time,
so I stuck it out. In the morning Buddy goes along back to town with me.
"Say, professor," says he, pattin' a roll of twenties in his trousers
pocket, "I wouldn't pass this along to anyone else, but if you want to
connect with a hatful of easy coin, just plunge on Candy Boy."
"That's your beanery tip, is it?" says I. "Much obliged, Buddy, but I
guess after the bookies get all you and Mrs. Pell are goin' to throw at
'em they won't need mine."
* * * * *
See? It was up to me to push home a great moral lesson, and I done my
best. But what's the use? Next mornin' I takes up the paper and reads
how Candy Boy wins, heads apart.