SPITE PROVES TOO STRONG.
The appearance of Barrows in New Haven was due to the failure of his
great coup at New London, when, instead of winning a great sum as the
result of his plan to cause the defeat of Yale in the annual boat race
with Harvard, he had been disastrously defeated by Dick Merriwell and
Jim Phillips, who had spoiled all his most cherished plans, and dealt
him a severe blow.
“What happened to you, Pete?” asked Marsten, after Foote, committed to
the service of Barrows, had left the gambling house. “I thought you were
all fixed. The way I heard it you had a gold mine in that race. I wanted
to get in on it with you, but I didn’t hear about it in time.”
“Good thing you didn’t,” said Barrows. “You’ve got more money now than
you would have had if you’d tried to horn in on that game. It was
something fierce, Johnny. Harding warned me of Merriwell and his crowd,
but I don’t know yet how they got onto us. We’ve lost Stevenson’s boat
for him, and he swears he’s going to shoot me the first time he sees me.
He’s mad enough to do it, too, specially if he gets drunk.”
“What are you going to do now?” asked Marsten.
“Rustle for a stake,” said Barrows bitterly. “I’m cleaned out, Johnny.
That business at New London set me back about six thousand. It was the
worst thing I ever bumped into. And the worst of it all is Harding. He
warned us before we went into it, and now he’s gone around New York,
blowing about it and telling every one how this bunch of kids broke up
my game. I’m afraid to show up there broke. They’d laugh at me for a
month.”
“Being broke is tough, Pete,” said Marsten. “I’d like to help you out,
but I’m on my uppers myself. Lots of paper, but precious little of the
ready cash.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” said Barrows. “You’re all right,
Johnny. But I’m not borrowing. Never did—unless I was down to hardpan.
And I’ve got a couple of hundred in my belt still. That’s enough to work
a game I’ve got in mind. What I want is a couple of rooms here for a day
or two. I’ve got the cleverest guy working in with me now you ever saw.
He’s a chap called Bascom, that used to be a wireless operator on a
liner. He never could make his fingers behave around the money drawer.
That’s what started him with me. But as an electrical expert, he’s got
Tesla and all those people lashed to the mast. He’s the one that doped
out the stunt with the electromagnet. He’s wise, all right. Now we’ve
got to do a little strong-arm work. Tell me about the banks here. Ain’t
there some trusted teller or cashier that’s been bucking your game?”
“Sure there is,” said Marsten. “Riggs, paying teller of the Elm
National. I’ve been watching him pretty close. He’s been playing here
for a year, pretty easy. But I’ve been getting ready to string him along
for a big play. He’s made it now. Not the wheel—he’s too clever for
that. The races are his lay. He’s got a thousand of the bank’s money
now, and if I say the word he’ll have to jump through a hoop. He knows
blame well I’ve got the goods on him.”
“Fine and dandy!” said Barrows. “That is all I need. We can pull this
off all right. Safe as a church, Johnny, and if you let us use your
place here, you divvy a quarter of the loot with us. Say, if the banks
in this country knew as much about Bascom as I do, they’d pay him a
hundred thousand a year to go and live in the Sandwich Islands—and
they’d be saving money at that.”
“What’s the idea of using this fool kid Foote?” asked Marsten, who
hadn’t agreed yet to do what Barrows wanted. The idea of some easy
money, no matter how it was obtained, appealed to Marsten, but he wanted
all the details.
“I heard you talkin’ to him about a row he had with this Merriwell,”
said Barrows. “Johnny, my reputation is at stake. I’ve not only got to
get a bank roll—I’ve got to do Merriwell up, good and proper. I haven’t
doped out the way to do it yet, but that will come later. And I figure
this kid will fit into my plans pretty nicely. You can hold off on him
till I get through using him, can’t you? I won’t need him very long, if
I use him at all. Then you can do what you like with him, for all I
care.”
“Anything to oblige a pal,” said the accommodating Mr. Marsten. “Finish
up with him as soon as you can. I think I can bleed his dad for the
notes I hold. That’s about three thousand, and it will come in handy.
Looks like a long, hot summer, with darned few pickings.”
“You can spend it on a private yacht at the north pole if this game goes
through,” boasted Barrows, “on your share of the winnings. The way I
figure it, we’re due to cop off a couple of hundred thousand at least.
And there won’t be a chance of a come-back, either—not for a long time.
We can make a clean get-away.”
“Talk’s cheap,” said Marsten sententiously. “Come across with the goods.
I don’t play with my eyes shut. I want to see the whole hand laid out.
Then I’ll decide whether I want it or not.”
“All right,” said Barrows. “I don’t mind telling you—but remember,
you’re going to forget it as soon as you’ve heard it, see?”
They talked in low tones for a few minutes after that. At first Marsten
seemed to be incredulous. Then the doubt that showed in his face cleared
away gradually, and he looked as if he were more ready to accept what
Barrows was telling him at its full face value.
Finally he jumped up and held out his hand.
“Count me in,” he declared. “It’s the swellest little scheme I ever
heard of. You sure struck a gold mine when you picked up this lad
Bascom. I should think Harding would be green with jealousy when he
hears about it.”
Barrows’ face darkened.
“Harding makes me sick,” he growled. “If he’d stuck to me in that last
deal, the trouble would never have hit us, because he’d have recognized
Phillips as soon as he saw him. And now he’s trying to queer me with the
gang. I’m going after him some day, when I get my roll, and you’ll see
the feathers flying then.”
“Look out that they’re not yours,” said Marsten warningly. “Harding’s
all sorts of a skunk—I’ll admit that. But he’s got a big pull, and he’s
a pretty handy man when any one starts trouble in his neighborhood. And,
say, if I were you, I’d let this chap Merriwell alone. You don’t need to
drag him into this game, and if you do, you’re likely to spoil your
pickings. Why don’t you take what you can get and make your get-away?
You can come back after him some other time. There’s no use spoiling a
good plan just to get revenge. The money’s the thing.”
“I’ll run this game my own way,” said Barrows. “You’re all right,
Johnny, but you don’t know how it feels to be stuck by a gang like that.
And it’s up to me to come back at him. The way Harding and his gang are
talking, the whole story will be known all over the country in a few
days. I couldn’t go on a track or in a saloon, from here to Seattle,
without getting the laugh from somebody. I’ve got to make good there, or
I’ll lose my pull. Can’t you see how it is?”
“I guess so,” admitted Marsten. “But, just the same, I think I’d wait.”
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