TOM, JACK AND NED
Quincy decided to have his company incorporated. This necessitated
visits to the Secretary of the Commonwealth and the Tax Commissioner.
The amount paid in cash capital was $200,000. Besides the four stores
doing business, sixteen more were contemplated in Boston, Cambridge,
Lowell, Lawrence, Fall River, New Bedford, and other small cities and
large towns.
The design was not to form a trust with a view of controlling certain
food products and raising prices, but to establish a line of stores in
which the best grade at the lowest cash price should be the rule. This
price was to be fixed for the Boston store and was to be the same in all
the stores.
“Whom shall I put in charge of the Boston store, Quincy?” his father
asked. “He will have to be general manager for the whole circuit.”
“I know a man,” said young Quincy, “who is honest, conscientious, and a
perfect tiger for work, but he knows nothing about the grocery business.
He has adaptability, that valuable quality, but, while learning, he
might make some costly mistakes.”
“I want you to act as Treasurer for the company. It's your money, and
you should handle it.”
“I've no objection to drawing checks. We sha'n't have to borrow any
money for there's half a million available any time. Why didn't you have
a larger capital, father?”
“Because the State taxes it so heavily; but there's no tax on borrowed
money. The fellow who lends pays that.”
“If I loan money do I have to pay taxes on it when I haven't got it?”
“Certainly, and you pay just the same if there's no prospect of its ever
being repaid.”
“That's funny.”
“Funny! Why, our Massachusetts tax laws are funnier than a comic
almanac, and about as sensible.”
Quincy took up a pen and began writing.
“What are you writing, father?”
“I'll show you in a few minutes.”
“How will that do?”
Quincy read:
QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER, _President_. QUINCY
ADAMS SAWYER, Jr., _Treasurer_. THOMAS CHRIPP,
_General Manager_. Cash Capital, $200,000.
Cable, _Vienna_. 20 _Stores_.
THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY, INC.
Wholesale and Retail.
“Just the man I had in mind, father. You can depend upon him every time,
and he'll keep his subordinates right up to the mark.”
Upon his return to his native state Quincy had found many of his old
friends still in office. The governor and higher officials were only
annuals--some not very hardy at that--while the minor officials, in
many cases, were hardy perennials, whom no political hot weather or cold
storm could wither or destroy.
A presidential campaign was on, and speakers, for there were few
orators, were in demand. Quincy's visits to so many cities inspecting
the Company's stores had brought him in contact with hundreds of local
politicians. One day there came a call from the State Committee to come
in and see the Secretary.
“Do you want to do something for the party?” asked Mr. Thwing, the
Secretary.
“I have already subscribed,” said Quincy. “Do you need more?”
“Money talks,” said Mr. Thwing, “and so do you. I have a score of
letters from different cities asking me to add you to our list of
speakers, and to be sure and let the writers hear you.”
“I had no intention--” Quincy began.
“You're an ex-governor, and know all the State. Aren't you in the
grocery business in a big way?”
“Rather.”
“'Twill boom your business in great style. Better even for groceries
than boots and shoes, for food is a daily consumption.”
“I wouldn't go on the stump just to advertise my business.”
“Of course not. You would take just what the gods provided and ask no
questions, and make no comments. Shall we put you down for, say, twenty
nights?”
Quincy consented, but he stipulated that he was not to be placed in any
city or town where he had a store.
Mr. Thwing vehemently objected. “Why, the men who want you to come live
where the stores are.”
“I can't help it. Put me in the next town, and if they're so anxious to
hear me they'll come.”
After the campaign was over, the votes cast, and the victory won, Mr.
Thwing said, “That was a good business idea of yours, Governor, about
your not going into the towns where your stores were. Of course you
instructed your general manager.”
“I don't know what you mean,” said Quincy.
“Didn't you know when you spoke in places adjoining those in which you
had stores that your Mr. Chripp, I think that's the name--just flooded
the towns with circulars announcing that you were to speak and that
you were the President of the grocery company doing business in
the adjoining city, that your goods were the best, your prices the
lowest--and that your teams would deliver goods free of charge in all
places within five miles?”
Mr. Thwing stopped to take breath, and Quincy nearly lost his in
astonishment.
“Great business idea, Mr. Sawyer.”
“I knew nothing about it. I should have stopped it had I known.”
“Why so? You got a double ad. Bright man that Chripp. You'll have to
raise his salary.”
Quincy did not reply. The deed was done, and a public explanation would
do no good. Chripp surely had his employer's interests at heart, even if
he had mixed politics and business rather too openly. The next month's
statement showed a great increase in trade. Mr. Chripp was not called
to account, but his salary was materially increased at the suggestion of
young Quincy.
The new President had been inaugurated, the Cabinet nominees confirmed,
and the distribution of political “plums” began. Quincy felt that the
lightning had struck in the wrong place when he was approached and
sounded as to whether he would accept a foreign mission. He talked the
matter over with his wife.
“Quincy,” said she, “I would go, if I were you.”
“Are you not happy here?”
“Yes, and no. Happy to be near my son, and relatives and friends; no,
because your business takes you away so much that I see little of you.
If you take the mission, I shall have you with me all the time. I am
selfish, I know, but it is my love for you that makes me so.”
The Hon. Quincy Adams Sawyer was nominated and confirmed as Ambassador
to Austria-Hungary. Alice had made the selection.
“Let us go to Vienna, Quincy. It was there we met after our long
separation--and, this is purely a personal matter, I wish to study the
scenes of my story, 'The Son of Sergius,' at close range.”
Before Quincy's departure it had been decided to lease the Beacon Street
house for four years. Maude was given her choice but preferred the house
in Mount Vernon Street where she had lived since her marriage.
Young Quincy was obliged to take bachelor quarters which he found at
Norumbega Chambers.
His suite consisted of a sitting-room, two sleeping rooms each with
bath, and a small room intended for a library or study, and which was
utilized by him as an office.
Quincy went down the harbour with his father and mother on the ocean
liner, returning on the tug with Tom. On the way back young Quincy took
a small envelope from his pocket and extracted a short note which he
had read at least a dozen times since its receipt. It was from Miss
Mary Dana and informed him that she had returned to Boston and would
be pleased to see him, the next day, at her office with the Isburn
Detective Bureau.
It was a cold, raw day in the early part of April and when they reached
the city Quincy was taken with a chill. When they reached Norumbega
Chambers the chill had turned to a fever, and Tom suggested sending for
a doctor. Quincy stoutly protested against any such action being taken,
but Tom summoned one despite his objections. In this way, Quincy became
acquainted with John Loring Bannister, M. D.
Dr. Bannister was unknown to his patient when he paid his first visit,
and was professionally non-communicative, but he told him afterwards,
when their acquaintance had ripened to such an extent that the names
Quincy and Jack took the place of more formal designations, that it
had always seemed a wonder to him that he had survived. Quincy, with no
intention of indulging in flattery, replied that if a certain physician
had not been called in he, probably, would not have done so.
Quincy's condition on the second day was so low, indeed, that Dr.
Bannister told Tom if his friend had not made a will he had better do
so. Tom's first thought was to send for Mr. Merry, but he decided that
might lead to a charge of family influence, and he appealed to the
doctor.
Dr. Bannister told Tom he was well acquainted with a young lawyer
and that he would send him up to see Mr. Sawyer. Quincy was in such a
condition when Lawyer Edward Everett Colbert made his first visit, that
if he had been asked the name of the principal beneficiary he would
probably have told the lawyer to let it go to the Devil. The second time
that Mr. Colbert called, Quincy's physical will had resumed control and
he had no need of any other.
When convalescing Quincy said to Tom, when the nurse was absent, “If
you thought I was going to die, why didn't you send for Aunt Maude,
and--and--you know whom I mean--Miss Dana?”
“I saw them every day, but you were too weak to see them, but if--they
would have been summoned.”
“Tom, your head is so level that a plane couldn't make a shaving.”
Tom was obliged to be away daytimes, the buying for twenty stores
requiring much travel.
Dr. Bannister and Lawyer Colbert were occasional visitors and Quincy
received a manifest mental exhilaration from his intercourse with them.
His sickness had led him to think about the future. Was he to live and
die as the treasurer of a grocery company? Had he no higher ideal?
A story told by Jack and Ned, which they knew to be true, because they
were the principal actors therein, led Quincy to give himself up to some
mighty thinking.
The story was related one evening in the sitting-room when Tom was
present.
“What I'm going to tell,” began Ned, “will include much more than I saw
or knew myself, but it all comes from authentic sources. I shall omit
names, since they are unessential.
“Among my clients was an old gentleman, over seventy years of age, but
still erect and vigorous. One morning I received a letter requesting me
to call at his house. I found him in bed feeling all tired out. He said
he had never had a doctor in his life.
“The doctor, here, assures me that those people who never need a
doctor until they are well advanced in life are not likely to require
a physician's services more than once. The next call is for the
undertaker.”
“That's so,” broke in Jack; “it's the person who is continually calling
upon a doctor for every little ailment who lives to an old age,
for instead of letting disease creep upon him, he calls for medical
assistance as soon as he experiences any derangement of his physical
system. If all the people would follow this plan, it would increase the
longevity of the human race.”
“And materially increase the income of the medical profession,” added
Quincy.
“It proved to be the old gentleman's first and last sickness. In order
that you may fully understand the wonderful event which took place the
night he died, I shall have to give you a history of his family.”
Quincy consulted his watch. “It is now but a few minutes past seven. I
will give you until midnight, my usual time for retiring.”
“I have an engagement at ten or thereabouts,” said Jack, “but it's a
matter of life instead of death.”
Ned continued: “My client had a son and daughter, both married. They
were good children and loved their father on the American plan. The son
had married an avaricious woman, while the daughter was married to a man
who was not so avaricious as his sister-in-law. The old gentleman was
very wealthy and like all good children they were thinking of the time
when the property would be divided.”
“I see signs of a family squabble,” remarked Quincy.
“It came to pass,” said Ned. “The French have a maxim which says it
is advisable to search for the woman in all mysterious cases. In this
instance, the woman did not wait to be searched for but came of her own
accord. She insisted upon having the card bearing the name of Mrs. James
Bliss sent up to the sick man; when he saw it he, in turn, insisted upon
seeing the woman. The family wished to be present at the interview but
my client demanded a private conversation which lasted for an hour.
“Jack had been in daily attendance as a physician, but I was not sent
for until the day following Mrs. Bliss's visit. He had told his son that
he wished to make his will, and the son told the other members of the
family. They wished him to make a will, of course, but they were afraid
that woman had exercised undue influence. As the son expressed it, the
better way would be to let the law make the decision.
“My client insisted upon seeing me alone. He told me the woman's story.
Many years before, when my client was a poor man, her father had set him
up in business. He had told his daughter of the loan before his death,
and her visit was to ask for payment as she was a widow and poor, with
three children to support.
“My client directed me to put her in the will for fifty thousand
dollars, saying the original loan at six per cent, would amount to fully
that amount.
“The son, when told the story by me made no objection to the bequest
but the son's wife and the son-in-law declared that the note she had
was outlawed and that she shouldn't have a cent. The son-in-law put a
private detective on her track who learned that Mrs. Bliss was a test
and trance medium, and that she gave materialization séances at private
houses. The whole family then declared her to be a fraud and impostor,
and declared their intention of breaking the will if it was signed.
“Now we are getting to the lively part of the story. The will was ready
for signing. It was about five minutes past six when I was admitted and
I went right up to my client's room. I had been there about five minutes
when Jack came in. He was followed by the entire family, the son-in-law
having been chosen to prevent the signing of the will.
“Then occurred a sensational episode. Mrs. Bliss came to inquire about
my client's condition and the unsuspecting nurse admitted her. She came
directly to the room where we were all assembled.”
“A strong situation for a play,” remarked Quincy.
“They played it,” said Ned. “The son-in-law took Mrs. Bliss into an
adjoining room and ordered her to stay there. Then he returned. This was
to be a Waterloo but he was the Wellington.
“My client was propped up in bed, a pen placed in his hand, while the
document rested on a large book which Jack held.
“The son-in-law began the oratory. 'I protest,' he screamed. 'This
sacrilege, this injustice shall not be done with my consent.' What was
it you said to him, Jack?”
“I told him unless he stopped talking in such an excited manner,
and made less noise, it would have a very prejudicial effect upon my
patient's health.
“The son-in-law then denounced Mrs. Bliss as an adventuress, and that
she had no legal claim upon his father-in-law. His loud voice and
violent gestures were too much for the invalid. The pen dropped from
his nerveless fingers and he fell back exhausted. I think you had better
take it up now, Ned.”
“All right. You gave me a chance to rest my voice. Yes, thank you,” as
Tom passed him a glass of water.
Ned resumed, “The door was opened and Mrs. Bliss looked in. 'Has he
signed?' she asked.
“'No, he hasn't,' yelled the son-in-law, 'and while I live he never
shall' Now you come in again, Jack.”
“'Ladies and gentlemen.' said I, 'this excitement must stop. As medical
adviser I order you all to leave the room.' They objected, but I told
them if they didn't, I should resign charge of the case and refuse to
give a death certificate unless there was an inquest. That frightened
them, and they all went out, the son-in-law escorting Mrs. Bliss.”
“We propped up the patient again, and I gave him some brandy. He said,
'I must sign.' He took the pen and made a ragged, disjointed capital
'T.'
“The pen dropped from his hand and he fell back upon the pillow. Ned put
the unsigned will in his pocket. I found that the end was very near and
I told Ned to call the family. Now, it's your turn, Ned.”
“I told the family they had better go to their father's room at once.
Mrs. Bliss arose with the intention of following them but I told her she
was not one of the family; that she could remain with me as my services
were no longer needed. She turned to me and asked: 'Was it signed?' I
shook my head. Without a word she sank upon the nearest chair and buried
her face in her arms.
“I stood irresolute. The spectacle of this silent woman, speechless
because she was to be deprived of what was justly due her, was a
situation with which I did not know how to deal. I was saved the
necessity of saying or doing anything by the sudden entrance of Jack who
cried: 'Ned, it's all over; he's dead.'”
“Now comes the wonderful, inexplainable, part of the story. There was a
single gas-burner alight in the room. It was turned down low; faces were
discernible, but the room was only half lighted. Hearing a movement,
Jack and I turned towards Mrs. Bliss. She had lifted her head from the
table and was gazing directly at us. Her eyes were open, but they had
a glassy look. Then it seemed as though the room was gradually becoming
darker and darker, until the darkness became intense.
“My first thought was that Mrs. Bliss had put out the gas. Before I had
time to question her, Jack and I caught sight of a white spot that was
approaching us from the corner of the room nearest the doorway which led
into the hallway. This light, which was no larger than a man's hand at
first, increased in size and intensity until it covered a space at least
two feet wide and six feet high. I must admit that my hair was inclined
to stand on end.”
“And mine too,” exclaimed Jack.
“Suddenly,” said Ned, “the light, which was nebulous, began to fall away
in places and assume a shape like the form of a man. Then the portion
where a man's head ought to be, assumed the appearance of one. Jack and
I clasped hands and retreated to the farther corner of the room. This
act on our part was purely voluntary. If I had possessed a Remington
rifle, six Colt's revolvers, and a dynamite bomb, I should have backed
out just the same.
“We could not remove our eyes from the glittering, moving, thing; and
now a most surprising change took place. The light seemed to leave the
figure, so that it was not visible as a light, and yet it filled the
room with a radiant glow.
“Who was that who stood before us? Could we believe our eyes? Were they
playing us a trick? Were we the victims of a too active imagination? No,
there could be no mistake. The form that stood before us was that of the
man who lay dead in the next room.
“Turning towards us, from the form came the words distinctly spoken--'It
must be signed!' The figure pointed to the table near which Mrs. Bliss
still sat in an apparently unconscious state. I took the will from
my pocket, opened it, advanced to the table, and laid it thereon. The
figure reached out its right hand and beckoned. The thought came to
me that he wanted a pen. There was none in the room. Jack divined the
situation as quickly as I did and took his stylographic pen from his
visiting book, fitted it for use, and laid it on the table beside the
will. The form advanced, took up the pen, joined a small letter to the
capital 'T' already written, and finished out the name in full.
“The form then laid the pen upon the table and pointed to the places set
apart for witnesses. I wrote my name, Edward Everett Colbert, and Jack
put his,--John Loring Bannister, under mine.”
“Did the form sit down?” asked Quincy.
“No. The only chair near the table was the one in which Mrs. Bliss sat.
I could not resist the inclination to whisper in Jack's ear: 'What do
you think of that?' We both turned with the intention of taking another
look at 'That,' but it had disappeared and the gas was burning at about
half-light.
“Mrs. Bliss arose from her seat with a pleasant smile on her face. 'You
said that he had signed it--I understood you to say so, did I not?'
I said nothing, but drew the will from my pocket and pointed to the
signatures. Then Jack said it was his duty to see the sorrowing family
and for me to escort Mrs. Bliss to a car.
“Jack and I took dinner together in a private room at Young's the next
day. We decided that it was my duty to present the will for probate.
Although it is presumed by the statutes of this Commonwealth that a
will is signed by a living man, I was unable to find anything in said
statutes to prevent a dead man, if he were so disposed and able, or
enabled, doing so.”
“Of course the will was presented for probate,” said Quincy.
“It was,” replied Ned, “and despite the energetic efforts of the
avaricious son-in-law, was admitted. His lawyer brought up the point
that the will should have had three witnesses, but I showed him the
note, told him Mrs. Bliss's story, and declared that I would fight the
case up to the Supreme Court if necessary.
“There was no doubt in the mind of the registrar as to the authenticity
of the will for was it not duly signed and witnessed by Dr. Bannister,
a physician of the highest repute, and Lawyer Colbert, a bright and
shining light of the legal profession?”
“Your story taxes my credulity,” said Quincy, “but I will not allow it
to break our friendship. Tom, kindly ring for that supper to be sent
up.” He looked at his watch. “Doctor, you've time to spare. 'Tis only
nine-thirty.”