A short message from the Italian cruiser by wireless informed Banker
Phillips that his daughter was safe aboard her and married to Angelo,
the chauffeur.
The multi-millionaire went up into the air with a shriek of rage.
When he descended he clamored for secretaries, clerks and messengers
to get James Tierney, Incorporated, and bring him immediately to his
office. Whenever anything sensational happened among the heinously
rich, whether indictment or elopement, the heinously rich immediately
affected called in its own private police system.
Tierney was brought before the banker just as a smartly uniformed boy
brought in another marconigram.
Phillips tore it open and read:
On Board Cruiser _Il Vincitore_, Via Marconi.
J. F. Phillips, 40 Wall Street, New York.
Angelo is the Duke of Torrigiano. Is admiral of the air fleet. Got
marriage license in Hackensack. Married on board by ship's chaplain
to Ione. Ship inside of three mile limit off Jersey coast. Duchess
sends love and joins duke in asking blessings. WINTHROP.
In the directors' room adjoining the office of the banker a group of
financiers were waiting to conclude an important meeting that had
kept them downtown until after sunset.
Mr. Phillips let them wait and let Tierney stand nervously in fear of
his wrath as he read and re-read this message.
"Duchess sends love!"
How well it sounded! The cloud of wrath left his ruddy, round face
and he stroked his silvery siders with gathering complacency.
Another messenger entered the room. He bore a wireless for Mr.
Tierney, forwarded from his office.
The Incorporated One took it and opened it with trembling hands. It
read:
On Board Cruiser _Il Vincitore_, Via Marconi.
James Tierney, Triple Syndicate Bldg., New York.
Could not have stopped marriage without use of battleship. Followed
them to the altar in cabin of the commander. Duke is fine fellow.
Made me second in command of air fleet of Italian navy. Pay Guy
Verdon, Dumont, N. J., two thousand for burning his barn. Good-bye.
WINTHROP.
Tierney looked up from the slip of yellow paper. Mr. Phillips had
left his chair and was pacing his private office, his chest puffed
out and his fat hands clasped behind his back.
"Mr. White," he said in crisp businesslike tones, "take this message,
please."
His secretary was ready.
The Duke and Duchess of Torrigiano, Aboard his Italian Majesty's
Cruiser _Il Vincitore_, he dictated. Blessings on my children.
Cable arrival on other side. Will join you in three weeks at most,
FATHER.
He turned to Tierney after a word to his secretary, commending haste
in getting the wireless under way.
"There is nothing more to be done, Mr. Tierney," he said. "I thank
you very much for putting such an excellent man on an extremely
difficult and delicate matter. You might send him a bonus with my
compliments."
Tierney grinned feebly.
"Let me have your bill in the morning and I shall send you a check,"
added the banker.
Mr. Phillips opened the door to the directors' room.
"Gentlemen, I am very sorry to have kept you waiting," he said with
large apology, "but only a few moments ago I received the news that
my daughter Ione and the Duke of Torrigiano, one of the most
illustrious young noblemen of Italy were married to-day."
As he was receiving his congratulations, proudly Tierney left the
banking house and sought a long distance telephone.
He called up Guy Verdon in Dumont, Bergen county, New Jersey. He
informed the whiskered farmer that he had received a message from Mr.
Winthrop asking him to pay him for burning his barn.
"Yes; I burnt it," the voice of the Jerseyite squeaked over the wire.
"Is the young man safe?"
"He's safe," replied Tierney. "But what was the celebration about?"
"There warn't no celebration."
"Why did he order you to burn it, then?"
"Why," came the voice from distant Jersey with a little laugh
catching in the words, "he's a regular cut-up, that boy is. He
sailed away from here just before sundown an' he 'lowed it might be
night when he sailed back, if he sailed back at all. So he offers me
two thousand for the barn and tells me to light it off after real
dark set in, which I did the same. He said he would need a beacon to
guide him to his landing place. He's a nice young feller."
Tierney told him he would mail a check in the morning and hung up the
receiver. He took a roundabout way to his office, skirting the edge
of the financial district until he struck Rose Street. He crossed
under the third arch of old Brooklyn Bridge and came to the lowly
tavern of one John Murphy at the corner of Rose and Duane. Placing a
slippery nickel on Murphy's bar he asked for as large a portion of
beer as the money would pay for.
As he sipped from his schooner he muttered to himself:
"One seventy-horsepower car, one aeroplane, one swell flat on the
Avener, one large barn, a hundred little hats, two hundred little
walking-sticks, one boskidge in Joisey, some hot osculation and one
Jook!" He drank the last of the beer.
"But he's got brains, that kid," he added as he slammed through the
swinging doors. "He's got brains. If he'd queered that marriage I'd
have lost me jawb. Old Man Phillips has got his Jook and he got him
dirt cheap as prices go nowadays, believe me."