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SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB
by
SEWELL FORD
Author of Shorty Mccabe, Side-Stepping with Shorty, Etc.
Illustrated by F. Vaux Wilson
[Illustration: "It might give us some clew," says I, "as to what him and
your paw had a run-in about."]
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
Copyright, 1913, 1914, 1915, by
Sewell Ford
Copyright, 1915, by
Edward J. Clode
All rights reserved
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Wishing a New One on Shorty 1
II. A Few Squirms by Bayard 18
III. Peeking in on Pedders 32
IV. Two Singles to Goober 49
V. The Case of a Female Party 65
VI. How Millie Shook the Jinx 81
VII. Reverse English on Sonny Boy 100
VIII. Gumming Gopher to the Map 115
IX. What Lindy Had up Her Sleeve 131
X. A Case of Nobody Home 150
XI. Under the Wire with Edwin 165
XII. A Fifty-Fifty Split with Hunk 182
XIII. A Follow Through by Eggy 198
XIV. Catching up with Gerald 217
XV. Shorty Hears from Pemaquid 233
XVI. Scratch One on Bulgaroo 251
XVII. Bayard Ducks His Past 267
XVIII. Trailing Dudley Through a Trance 285
XIX. A Little While with Alvin 304
ILLUSTRATIONS
"It might give us some clew," says I, "as to
what him and your paw has a run-in about" Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
"I wouldn't have anything happen to you
for the world," says I 8
"Now see hea-uh, Mistuh Constable," says he,
"I wouldn't go for to do anything like that" 60
"Say, I'm a bear for Paris" 97
"Now, friends," he calls, "everybody in on the chorus" 124
"What's the idea," says Mabel, "wishin' this
Rube stuff on us?" 157
He sidles up to the desk and proceeds to make
some throaty noises 199
Blamed if Dudley don't have the nerve to tow
Veronica into the next room, stretchin' on
tiptoe to talk in her ear 298
SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB
CHAPTER I
WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHORTY
Do things just happen, like peculiar changes in the weather, or is there
a general scheme on file somewhere? Is it a free-for-all we're mixed up
in--with our Harry Thaws and our Helen Kellers; our white slavers, our
white hopes, and our white plague campaigns; our trunk murders, and our
fire heroes? Or are we runnin' on schedule and headed somewhere?
I ain't givin' you the answer. I'm just slippin' you the proposition,
with the side remark that now and then, when the jumble seems worse than
ever, you can get a glimpse of what might be a clew, or might not.
Anyway, here I was, busy as a little bee, blockin' right hooks and body
jabs that was bein' shot at me by a husky young uptown minister who's a
headliner at his job, I understand, but who's developin' a good, useful
punch on the side. I was just landin' a cross wallop to the ribs, by way
of keepin' him from bein' too ambitious with his left, when out of the
tail of my eye I notices Swifty Joe edgin' in with a card in his paw.
"Time out!" says I, steppin' back and droppin' my guard. "Well, Swifty,
what's the scandal?"
"Gent waitin' to see you," says he.
"Let him wait, then," says I.
"Ah-r-r-r, but he's a reg'lar gent!" protests Swifty, fingerin' the
card.
"Even so, he'll keep five minutes more, won't he?" says I.
"But he--he's----" begins Swifty, strugglin' to connect that mighty
intellect of his with his tongue.
"Ah, read off the name," says I. "Is it Mayor Mitchel, Doc Wilson, or
who?"
"It says J. B-a-y-a-r-d Ste--Steele," says Swifty.
"Eh?" says I, gawpin'. "Lemme see. Him! Say, Swifty, you go back and
tell J. Bayard that if he's got nerve enough to want to see me, it'll be
a case of wait. And if he's at all messy about it, I give you leave to
roll him downstairs. The front of some folks! Come on now, Dominie!
Cover up better with that right mitt: I'm goin' to push in a few on you
this time."
And if you never saw a Fifth avenue preacher well lathered up you should
have had a glimpse of this one at the end of the next round. He's game,
though; even thanks me for it puffy.
"You're welcome," says I. "Maybe I did steam 'em in a bit; but I expect
it was because I had my mind on that party out front. While you're
rubbin' down I'll step in and attend to his case. If I could only wish a
pair of eight-ounce gloves on him for a few minutes!"
So, without stoppin' to change, or even sheddin' the mitts, I walks into
the front office, to discover this elegant party in the stream-line
cutaway pacin' restless up and down the room. Yes, he sure is some
imposin' to look at, with his pearl gray spats, and the red necktie
blazin' brilliant under the close-clipped crop of Grand Duke whiskers. I
don't know what there is special about a set of frosted face shubb'ry
that sort of suggests bank presidents and so on, but somehow they do.
Them and the long, thin nose gives him a pluty, distinguished look, in
spite of the shifty eyes and the weak mouth lines. But I ain't in a mood
to be impressed.
"Well?" says I snappy.
I expect my appearin' in a cut-out jersey, with my shoulder muscles
still bunched, must have jarred him a little; for he lifts his eyebrows
doubtful and asks, "Er--Professor McCabe, is it?"
"Uh-huh," says I. "What'll it be?"
"My name," says he, "is Steele."
"I know," says I. "Snug fit too, I judge."
He flushes quick and stiffens. "Do you mean to infer, Sir, that----"
"You're on," says I. "The minute I heard your name I placed you for the
smooth party that tried to unload a lot of that phony Radio stock on
Mrs. Benny Sherwood. Wanted to euchre her out of the twenty thousand
life insurance she got when Benny took the booze count last winter, eh?
Well, it happens she's a friend of Mrs. McCabe, and it was through me
your little scheme was blocked. Now I guess we ought to be real well
acquainted."
But I might have known such crude stuff wouldn't get under the hide of a
polished article like J. Bayard. He only shrugs his shoulders and smiles
sarcastic.
"The pleasure seems to be all mine," says he. "But as you choose. Who am
I to contend with the defender of the widow and the orphan that between
issuing a stock and trading in it there is a slight difference? However
deeply I am distressed by your private opinion of me, I shall try
to----"
"Ah, ditch the sarcasm," says I, "and spring your game! What is it this
trip, a wire-tappin' scheme, or just plain green goods?"
"You flatter me," says J. Bayard. "No, my business of the moment is not
to appropriate any of the princely profits of your--er--honest toil,"
and he stops for another of them acetic-acid smiles.
"Yes," says I, "it is a batty way of gettin' money--workin' for it, eh?
But go on. Whatcher mean you lost your dog?"
"I--er--I beg pardon?" says he.
"Ah, get down to brass tacks!" says I. "You ain't payin' a society call,
I take it?"
He gets that. And what do you guess comes next? Well, he hands over a
note. It's from a lawyer's office, askin' him to call at two P.M. that
day to meet with me, as it reads, "and discuss a matter of mutual
interest and advantage." It's signed "R. K. Judson, Attorney."
"Well, couldn't you wait?" says I. "It's only eleven-thirty now, you
know."
"It is merely a question," says Steele, "of whether or not I shall go at
all."
"So you hunt me up to do a little private sleuthin' first, eh?" says I.
"It is only natural," says he. "I don't know this Mr.--er--Judson, or
what he wants of me."
"No more do I," says I. "And the notice I got didn't mention you at all;
so you have that much edge on me."
"And you are going?" says he.
"I'll take a chance, sure," says I. "Maybe I'll button my pockets a
little tighter, and tuck my watchfob out of sight; but no lawyer can
throw a scare into me just by askin' me to call. Besides, it says
'mutual interest and advantage,' don't it?"
"H-m-m-m!" says Mr. Steele, after gazin' at the note thoughtful. "So it
does. But lawyers have a way of----" Here he breaks off sudden and asks,
"You say you never heard of this Mr. Judson before?"
"That's where you fool yourself," says I. "I said I didn't know him; but
if it'll relieve your mind any, I've heard him mentioned. He used to
handle Pyramid Gordon's private affairs."
"Ah! Gordon!" says Steele, his shifty eyes narrowin'. "Yes, yes! Died
abroad a month or so ago, didn't he?"
"In Rome," says I. "The rheumatism got to his heart. He could see it
comin' to him before he left. Poor old Pyramid!"
"Indeed?" says Steele. "And was Gordon--er--a friend of yours, may I
ask?"
"One of my best," says I. "Know him, did you?"
Mr. Steele darts a quick glance at me. "Rather!" says he.
"Then there can't be so much myst'ry about this note, then," says I.
"Maybe he's willed us a trinket or so. Friend of yours too, I expect?"
J. Bayard almost grins at that. "I have no good reason to doubt," says
he, "that Pyramid Gordon hated me quite as thoroughly and actively as I
disliked him."
"He was good at that too," says I. "Had a little run-in with him, did
you?"
"One that lasted something like twenty years," says Steele.
"Oh!" says I. "Fluffs or finance?"
[Illustration: "I wouldn't have anything happen to you for the world,"
says I.]
"Purely a business matter," says he. "It began in Chicago, back in the
good old days when trade was unhampered by fool administrations. At the
time, if I may mention the fact, I had some little prominence as a pool
organizer. We were trying to corner July wheat,--getting along very
nicely too,--when your friend Gordon got in our way. He had managed to
secure control of a dinky grain-carrying railroad and a few elevators.
On the strength of that he demanded that we let him in. So we were
forced to take measures to--er--eliminate him."
"And Pyramid wouldn't be eliminated, eh?" says I.
J. Bayard shrugs his shoulders careless and spreads out his hands.
"Gordon luck!" says he. "Of course we were unprepared for such methods
as he employed against us. Up to that time no one had thought of
stealing an advance copy of the government crop report and using it to
break the market. However, it worked. Our corner went to smash. I was
cleaned out. You might have thought that would have satisfied most men;
but not Pyramid Gordon! Why, he even pushed things so far as to sell out
my office furniture, and bought the brass signs, with my name on them,
to hang in his own office, as a Sioux Indian displays a scalp, or a
Mindanao head hunter ornaments his gatepost with his enemy's skull. That
was the beginning; and while my opportunities for paying off the score
have been somewhat limited, I trust I have neglected none. And
now--well, I can't possibly see why the closing up of his affairs
should interest me at all. Can you?"
"Say, you don't think I'm doin' any volunteer frettin' on your account,
do you?" says I.
"I quite understand," says he. "But about seeing this lawyer--do you
advise me to go?"
He's squintin' at me foxy out of them shifty eyes of his, cagy and
suspicious, like we was playin' some kind of a game. You know the sort
of party J. Bayard is--if you don't, you're lucky. So what's the use
wastin' breath? I steps over and opens the front office door.
"Don't chance it," says I. "I wouldn't have anything happen to you for
the world. I'll tell Judson I've come alone, to talk for the dictograph
and stand on the trapdoor. And as you go down the stairs there better
walk close to the wall."
J. Bayard, still smilin', takes the hint. "Oh, I may turn up, after
all," says he as he leaves.
"Huh!" says I, indicatin' deep scorn.
But if I'd been curious before about this invite to the law office, I
was more so now. So shortly after two I was on hand. And I find Mr.
Steele has beat me to it by a minute or so. He's camped in the waitin'
room, lookin' as imposin' and elegant as ever.
"Well, you ain't been sandbagged or jabbed with a poison needle yet, I
see," says I.
He glances around uneasy. "Mr. Judson is coming," says he. "They said he
was--here he is!"
Nothin' terrifyin' about Judson, either. He's a slim-built, youngish
lookin' party, with an easy, quiet way of talkin', a friendly, confidin'
smile; but about the keenest, steadiest pair of brown eyes I ever had
turned loose on me. He shakes us cordial by the hand, thanks us for
bein' prompt, and tows us into his private office.
"I have the papers all ready," says he.
"That's nice," says I. "And maybe sometime or other you can tell us what
it's all about?"
"At once," says he. "You are named as co-executors with me for the
estate of the late Curtis B. Gordon."
At which J. Bayard gasps. "I?" says he. "An executor for Pyramid
Gordon?"
Judson nods. "I understand," says he, "that you were--ah--not on
friendly terms with Mr. Gordon. But he was a somewhat unusual man, you
know. In this instance, for example, he has selected Professor McCabe,
whom he designates as one of his most trusted friends, and yourself,
whom he designates as his--ah--oldest enemy. No offense, I hope?"
"Quite accurate, so far as I am concerned," says Steele.
"Very well," says the lawyer. "Then I may read the terms of his will
that he wishes us to carry out."
And, believe me, even knowin' some of the odd streaks of Pyramid Gordon
the way I did, this last and final sample had me bug-eyed before Judson
got through! It starts off straight enough, with instructions to deal
out five thousand here and ten there, to various parties,--his old
office manager, his man Minturn, that niece of his out in Denver, and so
on. But when it come to his scheme for disposin' of the bulk of his
pile--well, just lemme sketch it for you!
Course, I can't give it to you the way Pyramid had it put down; but here
was the gen'ral plan: Knowin' he had to take the count, he'd been
chewin' things over. He wa'n't squealin', or tryin' to square himself
either here or beyond. He'd lived his own life in his own way, and he
was standin' pat on his record. He knew he'd put over some raw deals;
but the same had been handed to him. Maybe he'd hit back at times
harder'n he'd been hit. If he had, he wa'n't sorry. He'd only played the
game accordin' to the rules he knew.
Still, now that it was most over, he had in mind a few cases where he'd
always meant to sort of even things up if he could. There was certain
parties he'd thrown the hooks into kind of deep maybe, durin' the heat
of the scrap; and afterwards, from time to time, he'd thought he might
have a chance to do 'em a good turn,--help 'em back to their feet again,
or something like that. But somehow, with bein' so busy, and kind of out
of practice at that sort of thing, he'd never got around to any of 'em.
So now he was handin' over the job to us, all in a lump.
"And I have here," goes on Mr. Judson, exhibitin' a paper, "a list of
names and addresses. They are the persons, Mr. Steele, on whose behalf
you are requested, with the advice and help of Professor McCabe, to
perform some kind and generous act. My part will be merely to handle the
funds." And he smiles confidin' at J. Bayard.
Mr. Steele has been listenin' close, his ears cocked, and them shifty
eyes of his takin' in every move; but at this last he snorts. "Do you
mean to say," says he, "that I am asked to--er--to play the good fairy
to persons who have been wronged by Pyramid Gordon?"
"Precisely," says the lawyer. "They number something over twenty, I
believe; but the fund provided is quite ample--nearly three millions, if
we are able to realize on all the securities."
"But this is absurd," says J. Bayard, "asking me to distribute gifts and
so on to a lot of strangers with whom I have nothing in common, except,
perhaps, a common enemy! A fine time I'd have, wouldn't I, explaining
that----"
"Pardon me," breaks in Judson, "but one of the conditions is that it
must all be done anonymously; at least, so far as the late Mr. Gordon is
concerned. As for your own identity in the several cases, you may make
it known or not, as you see fit."
"How truly fascinating!" sneers Mr. Steele, gettin' up and reachin' for
his hat. "To go about like an unseen ministering angel, trying to salve
the bygone bruises of those who were unlucky enough to get in Pyramid
Gordon's way! Beautiful! But unfortunately I have other affairs."
He was startin' for the door too, when Judson smiles quiet and holds up
a stayin' hand. "Just a moment more," says the lawyer. "You may be
interested to hear of another disposition decided upon by Mr. Gordon in
the event of your refusal to act in this capacity."
"He might have known me better," says Steele.
"Perhaps he did," says Judson. "I should hardly say that he lacked
insight or shrewdness. He was a man too, who was quite accustomed to
having his own way. In this instance he had rather a respectable fortune
to dispose of according to his own somewhat original ideas. Leave it to
public institutions he would not. He was thoroughly opposed to what he
termed post-mortem philanthropy of the general kind. To quote his own
words, 'I am not enough of a hypocrite to believe that a society based
on organized selfishness can right its many wrongs by spasmodic gifts to
organized charity.'"
J. Bayard shifts uneasy on his feet and smothers a yawn. "All very
interesting, I'm sure," says he; "but really, you know, Pyramid
Gordon's theories on such matters do not----"
"I am merely suggesting," breaks in the lawyer, "that you may care to
glance over another list of twenty names. These are the persons among
whom Mr. Gordon's estate will be divided if the first plan cannot be
carried out."
Mr. Steele hesitates; but he fin'lly fishes out a pair of swell nose
pinchers that he wears hung from a wide ribbon, and assumes a bored
expression. He don't hold that pose long. He couldn't have read more'n a
third of the names before he shows signs of bein' mighty int'rested.
"Why, see here!" says he. "I'd like to know, Sir, where in thunder you
got this list!"
"Yes, I thought you would," says Judson. "It was quite simple. Perhaps
you remember, a few days ago, meeting a friendly, engaging young man in
the café of your hotel? Asked you to join him at luncheon, I believe,
and talked vaguely about making investments?"
"Young Churchill?" says J. Bayard.
"Correct," says the lawyer. "One of our brightest young men.
Entertaining talker too. And if I'm not mistaken, it was he who opened a
good-natured discussion as to the limit of actual personal acquaintance
which the average man has, ending by his betting fifty dollars--rather
foolishly, I admit--that you could not remember the names and addresses
of twenty persons whom you actually disliked. Well, you won. Here is the
list you made out."
And the stunned way J. Bayard gawps at the piece of paper brings out a
snicker from me. He flushes up at that and glares down at Judson.
"Tactics worthy of a Tombs lawyer!" says he. "I congratulate you on your
high-class legal methods!"
"Oh, not at all," says Judson. "A suggestion of Mr. Gordon's. Another
evidence of his insight into character, as well as his foresight into
events. So, you see, Mr. Steele, if you decline to become the benefactor
of Mr. Gordon's enemies, his money goes to yours!"
"The old fox!" snarls J. Bayard. "Why--I--let me see that list again."
It's no more'n gripped in his fingers than he steps back quick and
begins tearin' it to bits. I'd jumped for him and had his wrists
clinched when Judson waves me off.
"Only a copy," says he smilin'. "I have several more. Sit down, Mr.
Steele, and let me give you another."
Kind of dazed and subdued, J. Bayard submits to bein' pushed into a
chair. After a minute or so he fixes his glasses again, and begins
starin' at the fresh list, mumblin' over some of the names to himself.
"To them! Three millions!" says he gaspy.
"Roughly estimated," says Judson, "that would be about one hundred and
fifty thousand dollars apiece which you would, in effect, hand over."
"And the only way to keep them from getting it," goes on Steele, "is for
me to spend my time hunting up Pyramid Gordon's lot?"
"Not entirely without recompense," adds the lawyer. "As an inducement
for doing the work thoroughly, I am authorized to give you a commission
on all you spend in that way."
"How much?" demands the other.
"Twenty per cent.," says Judson. "For instance, if in doing some kind
and generous deed for a person on Mr. Gordon's list, you spend, say,
five thousand, you get a thousand for yourself."
"Ah!" says Steele, perkin' up consider'ble.
"The only condition being," goes on the lawyer, "that in each case your
kind and generous proposals must have the indorsement and approval of
Professor McCabe, who is asked to give his advice in these matters on a
five per cent. basis. I may add that a like amount comes to me in place
of any other fee. So you see this is to be a joint enterprise. Is that
satisfactory to you, Mr. McCabe?"
"It's more'n I usually get for my advice," says I, "and I guess Pyramid
Gordon knew well enough he didn't have to pay for anything like that
from me. But if that's the way he planned it out, it goes."
"And you, Mr. Steele?" says Judson.
"One dollar for every five that I can spend of Pyramid Gordon's money?"
says he, wrinklin' his eye corners. "With pleasure! When may I begin?"
"Now," says Judson, reachin' prompt into a pigeonhole and producin' a
sealed envelope. "Here is the first name on the list. When you bring me
Professor McCabe's indorsement of any expenses incurred, or sum to be
paid out, I shall give you a check at once."
And, say, the last I see of J. Bayard he was driftin' through the door,
gazin' absentminded at the envelope, like he was figurin' on how much
he could grab off at the first swipe. I gazes after him thoughtful until
the comic side of it struck me.
"This is a hot combination we're in, eh?" I chuckles to the lawyer gent.
"Steele, Judson & McCabe, Joy Distributers; with J. Bayard there
wieldin' the fairy wand. Why, say, I'd as quick think of askin' Scrappy
McGraw to preside at a peace conference!"
Mr. Judson's busy packin' away his papers in a document case; but he
smiles vague over his shoulder.
"Honest now," I goes on, "do you think our friend will make good as the
head of the sunshine department?"
"That," says Judson, "is a matter which Mr. Gordon seems to have left
wholly to you."
"Eh?" says I, doin' the gawp act sudden on my own account. "Well, post
me for a Bush League yannigan if it don't listen that way! Then I can
see where I'll be earnin' my five per cent. all right, and yet some!
Referee for a kind deeds campaign! Good night, Sister Sue! But it's on
old Pyramid's account; so let J. Bayard shoot 'em in!"