"Stopped at the Bank," he said in an undertone. "He took some cats and
dogs up with him last night and is trying to get a loan. Going to rain
down here to-day, I guess, and somebody'll get wet. Curb market is
steady, but you can't tell anything till the Board opens."
At ten minutes before ten by the clock on the wall Fitz burst into the
office, pulled a package from inside his coat, thrust it through the
hole in the glass partition, whispered something to a second clerk who
had just come in, and who at Fitz's command grabbed up his hat, and
with three plunges was through the doorway and racing down the street.
Then Fitz turned and saw us.
"Why, you dear Colonel, where the devil did you come from?"
The Colonel did not answer. He had noticed Fitz's concentrated,
business-like manner, so different from his bearing of the night
before, and had caught the anxious expression on the clerk's face as
he bounded past him on his way to the street. It was evident that the
situation was grave and the crisis imminent. The Colonel rose from his
seat and held out his hand, his manner one of the utmost solemnity.
"I have heard all about it, Fitz. I am here to stand by you. Let us go
inside where we can discuss the situation quietly."
Fitz looked at the clock--it was a busy day for him--shook the
Colonel's hand in an equally impressive manner, glanced inquiringly at
me over his shoulder, and we all three entered the private office and
shut the door: he would give us ten minutes at all events. What really
perplexed Fitz at the moment was the hour of the Colonel's visit and
his reference to the "stand-by." These were mysteries which the broker
failed to penetrate.
The Colonel tilted his silver-topped cane against Fitz's desk, put his
hat on a pile of papers, drew his chair close and laid his hand
impressively on Fitz's arm. He had the air of a learned counsellor
consulting with a client.
"You are too busy, Fitz, to go into the details, and my mind is too
much occupied to listen to them, but just give me an outline of the
situation so that I can act with the main facts befo' me."
Fitz looked at me inquiringly; received my helpless shrug as throwing
but little light on the matter, and as was his invariable custom, fell
instantly into the Colonel's mood, answering him precisely as he would
have done a brother broker in a similar case.
"It is what we call a 'squeeze,' Colonel. I'm through for the day, I
hope, for my bank has come to my rescue. My clerk has just carried up
a lot of stuff I managed to borrow. But you can't tell what to-morrow
will bring. Looks to me as if everything was going to Bally-hack, and
yet there are some things in the air that may change it over night."
"Am I right when I say that Mr. Klutchem is leadin' the attack? And on
you?"
"That's just what he is doing--all he knows how."
"And that any relief must be with his consent?"
"Absolutely, for, strange to say, some of my defaulting customers have
been operating in his office."
The Colonel mused for some time, twisting the fish-hook end of his
goatee till it looked like a weapon of offence.
"Is he in town?"
"He was yesterday afternoon."
The Colonel rose from his chair with a determined air and pulled his
coat sleeves over his cuffs.
"I'll call upon him at once."
Fitz's expression changed. Once start the dear Colonel on a mission of
this kind and there was no telling what complications might ensue.
"He won't see you."
"I have thought of that, Fitz. I do not forget that I informed him I
would lay my cane over his back the next time we met, but that mattuh
can wait. This concerns the welfare of my dea'est friend and takes
precedence of all personal feelin's."
"But, Colonel, he would only show you the door. He don't want _talk_.
He wants something solid as a margin. I've sent it to him right along
for their account, and he'll get what's coming to him to-day, but
_talk_ won't do any good."
"What do you mean by somethin' solid, Fitz?"
"Gilt-edged collateral,--5.20's or something as good."
"I presume any absolutely safe security would answer?"
"Yes."
"And of what amount?"
"Oh, perhaps fifty thousand,--perhaps a hundred. I'll know to-morrow."
The Colonel communed with himself for a moment, made a computation
with his lips assisted by his fingers, and said with great dignity:
"You haven't had my 'Garden Spots' bonds printed yet, have you?"
"No."
"Nothin' lookin' to'ards it?"
"Yes, certainly, but nothing definite. I've got the proposition I told
you about from the Engraving Company. Here it is." And Fitz pulled out
a package of papers from a pigeon-hole and laid the letter before the
Colonel. It was the ordinary offer agreeing to print the bonds for a
specified sum, and had been one of the many harmless dodges Fitz had
used to keep the Colonel's spirits up.
The Colonel studied the document carefully.
"When I accept this, of co'se, the mattuh is closed between me and the
Company?"
"Certainly."
"And no other party could either print or receive the bonds except on
my written order?"
"No." Fitz was groping now in the dark. Why the Colonel should have
suddenly dropped Consolidated Smelting to speak of the "Garden Spots"
was another mystery.
"And I have a right to transfer this order to any one I please?"
"Of course, Colonel." The mystery was now impenetrable.
"You have no objection to my takin' this letter, Fitz?"
"Not the slightest."
The Colonel walked to the window, looked out for a moment into the
street, walked back to Fitz's desk, and with a tinge of resignation in
his voice as if he had at last nerved himself for the worst, laid his
hand on Fitz's shoulder:
"I should never have a moment's peace, Fitz, if I did not exhaust
every means in my power to ward off this catastrophe from you. Kindly
give me a pen."
I moved closer. Was the Colonel going to sign his check for a million,
or was there some unknown friend who, at a stroke of his pen, would
come to Fitz's rescue?
The Colonel smoothed out the letter containing the proposition of the
Engraving Company, tried the pen on his thumbnail, dipped it carefully
in the inkstand, poised it for an instant, and in a firm round hand
wrote across its type-written face the words:
"Accepted.
GEORGE FAIRFAX CARTER,
of Cartersville."
Then he folded the paper carefully and slipped it into his inside
pocket.
This done, he shook Fitz's hand gravely, nodded to me with the air of
a man absorbed in some weighty matter, picked up his cane and hat and
left the office.
"What in the name of common-sense is he going to do with that,
Fitz?" I asked.
"I give it up," said Fitz. "Ask me an easy one. Dear old soul, isn't
he lovely? He's as much worried over the market as if every dollar at
stake was his own. Now you've got to excuse me, Major. I've got a
land-office business on hand to-day."
The Colonel's manner as he left the room had been so calm and
measured, his back so straight, the swing of his cane so rhythmical,
his firm military tread so full of courage and determination, that I
had not followed him. When he is in these moods it is best to let him
have his own way. Fitz and I had discovered this some days before,
when we tried to dissuade him from planting into Klutchem's rotundity
the bullets which Chad had cast with so much care.
Had I questioned him as he walked out this morning he would doubtless
have said, "I do not expect you Nawthern men, with yo'r contracted
ideas of what constitutes a man's personal honor, to understand the
view I take of this mattuh, Major, but my blood requires it. I never
forget that I am a Caarter, suh,--and you must never forget it
either."
Moreover, had I gone with him the visit might have assumed an air of
undue importance. There was nothing therefore for me to do but to
wait. So I buried my self in an arm-chair, picked up the morning
papers, and tried to possess my soul in patience until the Colonel
should again make his appearance with a full report of his mission.
Twice during my long wait Fitz burst in, grabbed up some papers from
his desk and bounded out again, firing some orders to his clerks as he
disappeared through the door. He was too absorbed to more than nod to
me, and he never once mentioned the Colonel's name.
About noon a customer in the outer office--there were half a dozen of
them watching the ticker--handed an "extra" to the clerk, who brought
it to me. Consolidated Smelting was up ten points; somebody had got
out an injunction, and two small concerns in Broad Street had struck
their colors and sent word to the Exchange that they could not meet
their contracts.
Still no Colonel!
Had he failed to find Klutchem; had he been thrown out of the office
or had he refrained from again visiting Fitz until he had accomplished
something definite for his relief?
With the passing of the hours I became uneasy. The Colonel, I felt
sure, especially in his present frame of mind, would not desert Fitz
unless something out of the common had happened. I would go to
Klutchem's office first, and not finding him there, I would keep on to
Bedford Place and interview Chad.
"Been here?" growled Klutchem's clerk in answer to my question. "Well,
I should think so. Tried to murder Mr. Klutchem. They're all up at the
police station. Nice day for a muss like this when everything's
kitin'! You don't know whether you're a-foot or a-horseback! These
fire-eaters ought to be locked up!"
"Arrested!"
"Well, you'd a-thought so if you'd been here half an hour ago. He
kept comin' in callin' for Mr. Klutchem, and then he sat down and
said he'd wait. Looked like a nice, quiet old fellow, and nobody took
any notice of him. When Mr. Klutchem came in--he'd been to the
Clearing-house--they both went into his private office and shut the
door. First thing we heard was some loud talk and then the thump of a
cane, and when I got inside the old fellow was beatin' Mr. Klutchem
over the head with a stick thick as your wrist. We tried to put him
out, or keep him quiet, but he wanted to fight the whole office. Then
a cop heard the row and came in and took the bunch to the station. Do
you know him?"
This last inquiry coming at the end of the explosion showed me how
vivid the scene still was in the clerk's mind and how it had
obliterated every other thought.
"Know him! I should think I did," I answered, my mind in a whirl.
"Where have they taken him?"
"Where have they taken 'em, Billy?" asked the clerk, repeating my
question to an assistant.
"Old Slip. You can't miss it. It's got a lamp over the door."
* * * * *
The Sergeant smiled when I stepped up to the desk and made the
inquiry.
Yes; a man named Klutchem had made a charge of assault against one
George Carter. Carter was then locked up in one of the cells and could
not be interviewed without the consent of the Captain of the Precinct
who would be back in a few minutes.
"Guess it ain't serious," the Sergeant added. "Couple of old sports
got hot, that's all, and this old feller--" and he hunched his
shoulder towards the cells--"pasted the other one over the nut with
his toothpick. Step one side. Next!"
I sat down on a bench. The dear Colonel locked up in a cell like a
common criminal. What would Chad say; what would Aunt Nancy say; what
would Fitz say; what would everybody say? And then the mortification
to him; the wounding of his pride; the disgrace of it all.
Men and women came and went; some with bruised heads, some with
blackened eyes, one wearing a pair of handcuffs--a sneak thief,
caught, with two overcoats. Was the Colonel sharing a cell with such
people as these? The thought gave me a shiver.
A straightening-up of half a dozen policemen; a simultaneous touching
of caps, and the Captain, a red-faced, black-moustached, blue-coated
chunk of a man, held together at the waist by a leather belt and
be-decked and be-striped with gilt buttons and gold braid, climbed
into the pulpit of justice and faced the room.