CHAPTER IX
HANDING BOBBY A BLANK
Say, what do you make out of this plute huntin' business, anyway? Has thebig money bunch got us down on the mat with our wind shut off and ourpockets inside out; or is it just campaign piffle? Are we ghost dancin',or waltz dreamin', or what? It sure has me twisted up for fair, and Idon't know whether I stand with the criminal rich or the predatory poor.
That's all on account of a little mix-up I was rung into at the hotelPerzazzer the other day. No, we ain't livin' there reg'lar again. Thiswas just a little fall vacation we was takin' in town, so Sadie can catchup with her shoppin', and of course the Perzazzer seems more or less likehome to us.
But it ain't often I've ever run against anything like this there. I'vebeen thinkin' it over since, and it's left me with my feet in the air.No, you didn't read anything about it in the papers. But say, there'smore goes on in one of them big joints every week than would fill a wholeissue.
Look at the population the Perzazzer's got,--over two thousand, countin'the help! Why, drop us down somewhere out in Iowa, and spread us aroundin separate houses, and there'd be enough to call for a third-classpostmaster, a police force, and a board of trade. Bunched the way we are,all up and down seventeen stories, with every cubic foot accounted for,we don't cut much of a figure except on the checkbooks. You hear aboutthe Perzazzer only when some swell gives a fancy blow-out, or a guestgets frisky in the public dining room.
And anything in the shape of noise soon has the muffler put on it. We'vegot a whole squad of husky, two-handed, soft spoken gents who don't haveanything else to do, and our champeen ruction extinguisher is DannyReardon. To see him strollin' through the cafe, you might think he was acorporation lawyer studyin' how to spend his next fee; but let someambitious wine opener put on the loud pedal, or have Danny get his eye onsome Bridgeport dressmaker drawin' designs of the latest Paris fashionsin the tea room, and you'll see him wake up. Nothing seems to get byhim.
So I was some surprised to find him havin' an argument with a couple ofparties away up on our floor. Anyone could see with one eye that they wasa pair of butt-ins. The tall, smooth faced gent in the black frock coatand the white tie had sky pilot wrote all over him; and the Perzazzerain't just the place an out of town minister would pick out to stop at,unless he wanted to blow a year's salary into a week's board.
Anyway, his runnin' mate was a dead give away. He looked like he mighthave just left a bench in the Oriental lodgin' house down at ChathamSquare. He's a thin, gawky, pale haired youth, with tired eyes and a limplower jaw that leaves his mouth half open all the time; and his costumelooks like it had been made up from back door contributions,--a fadedcoat three sizes too small, a forty fat vest, and a pair of shiny blackwhipcord pants that someone had been married in about twenty years back.
What gets me is why such a specimen should be trailin' around with aclean, decent lookin' chap like this minister. Maybe that's why I come totake any notice of their little debate. There's some men, though, thatyou always give a second look at, and this minister gent was one of thatkind. It wa'n't until I see how he tops Danny by a head that I noticeshow well built he is; and I figures that if he was only in condition, andknew how to handle himself, he could put up a good lively scrap.Something about his jaw hints that to me; but of course, him bein' aBible pounder, I don't expect anything of the kind.
"Yes, I understand all that," Danny was tellin' him; "but you'd bettercome down to the office, just the same."
"My dear man," says the minister, "I have been to the office, as I toldyou before, and I could get no satisfaction there. The person I wish tosee is on the ninth floor. They say he is out. I doubt it, and, as I havecome six hundred miles just to have a word with him, I insist on a chanceto----"
"Sure!" says Danny. "You'll get your chance, only it's against the rulesto allow strangers above the ground floor. Now, you come along with meand you'll be all right." With that Danny gets a grip on the gent's armand starts to walk him to the elevator. But he don't go far. The nextthing Danny knows he's been sent spinnin' against the other wall. Course,he wa'n't lookin' for any such move; but it was done slick and prompt.
"Sorry," says the minister, shovin' his cuffs back in place; "but I mustask you to keep your hands off."
I see what Danny was up to then. He looks as cool as a soda fountain; buthe's red behind his ears, and he's fishin' the chain nippers out of hisside pocket. I knows that in about a minute the gent in the frock coatwill have both hands out of business. Even at that, it looks like an evenbet, with somebody gettin' hurt more or less. And blamed if I didn't hateto see that spunky minister get mussed up, just for objectin' to takin'the quiet run out. So I pushes to the front.
"Well, well!" says I, shovin' out a hand to the parson, as though he wassomeone I'd been lookin' for. "So you showed up, eh?"
"Why," says he,--"why--er----"
"Yes, I know," says I, headin' him off. "You can tell me about thatlater. Bring your friend right in; this is my door. It's all right,Danny; mistakes will happen."
And before any of 'em knows what's up, Danny is left outside with hismouth open, while I've towed the pair of strays into our sittin' room,and shooed Sadie out of the way. The minister looks kind of dazed; but hekeeps his head well.
"Really," says he, gazin' around, "I am sure there must be somemisunderstanding."
"You bet," says I, "and it was gettin' worse every minute. About twoshakes more, and you'd been the center of a local disturbance that wouldhave landed you before the police sergeant."
"Do you mean," says he, "that I cannot communicate with a guest in thishotel without being liable to arrest?"
"That's the size of it," says I. "Danny had the bracelets all out. Theconundrum is, though, Why I should do the goat act, instead of lettin'you two mix it up? But that's what happened, and now I guess it's up toyou to give an account."
"H'm!" says he. "It isn't quite clear; but I infer that you have, in away, made yourself responsible for me. May I ask whom I have to thankfor----"
"I'm Shorty McCabe," says I.
"Oh!" says he. "It seems to me I've heard----"
"Nothing like bein' well advertised," says I. "Now, how about you--andthis?" With that I points to the specimen in the cast offs, that wasgivin' an imitation of a flytrap. It was a little crisp, I admit; but I'mgettin' anxious to know where I stand.
The minister lifts his eyebrows some, but proceeds to hand out theinformation. "My name is Hooker," says he,--"Samuel Hooker."
"Preacher?" says I.
"Ye-es, a poor one," says he. "Where? Well, in the neighborhood of MossyDell, Pennsylvania."
"Out in the celluloid collar belt, eh?" says I. "This ain't a deacon, isit?" and I jerks my thumb at the fish eyed one.
"This unfortunate fellow," says he, droppin' a hand on the object'sshoulder, "is one of our industrial products. His name is Kronacher,commonly called Dummy."
"I can guess why," says I. "But now let's get down to how you two happento be loose on the seventh floor of the Perzazzer and so far from MossyDell."
The Reverend Sam says there ain't any great mystery about that. He comeon here special to have a talk with a party by the name of Rankin, thathe understood was stoppin' here.
"You don't mean Bobby Brut, do you?" says I.
"Robert K. Rankin is the young man's name, I believe," says he,--"son ofthe late Loring Rankin, president of the Consolidated----"
"That's Bobby Brut," says I. "Don't catch onto the Brut, eh? You would ifyou read the champagne labels. Friend of yours, is he?"
But right there the Rev. Mr. Hooker turns balky. He hints that hisbusiness with Bobby is private and personal, and he ain't anxious to layit before a third party. He'd told 'em the same at the desk, when someonefrom Bobbie's rooms had 'phoned for details about the card, and then he'dgot the turn down. But he wa'n't the kind that stayed down. He's goin' tosee Mr. Rankin or bu'st. Not wantin' to ask for the elevator, he blazesahead up the stairs; and Danny, it seems, hadn't
got on his track untilhe was well started.
"All I ask," says he, "is five minutes of Mr. Rankin's time. That is notan unreasonable request, I hope?"
"Excuse me," says I; "but you're missin' the point by a mile. It ain'thow long you want to stay, but what you're here for. You got to rememberthat things is run different on Fifth-ave. from what they are onPenrose-st., Mossy Dell. You might be a book agent, or a bomb thrower,for all the folks at the desk know. So the only way to get next to anyonehere is to show your hand and take the decision. Now if you want to tryrunnin' the outside guard again, I'll call Danny back. But you'll make amess of it."
He thinks that over for a minute, lookin' me square in the eye all thetime, and all of a sudden he puts out his hand. "You're right," says he."I was hot headed, and let my zeal get the better of my commonsense.Thank you, Mr. McCabe."
"That's all right," says I. "You go down to the office and put your caseto 'em straight."
"No," says he, shruggin' his shoulders, "that wouldn't do at all. Isuppose I've come on a fool's errand. Kronacher, we'll go back."
"That's too bad," says I, "if you had business with Bobby that was on thelevel."
"Since you've been so kind," says he, "perhaps you would give me youropinion--if I am not detaining you?"
"Spiel away!" says I. "I'll own up you've got me some interested."
Well, say, when he'd described his visit as a dippy excursion, he wa'n'tfar off. Seems that this Rev. Sam Hooker ain't a reg'lar preacher, with astained glass window church, a steam heated parsonage, and a settled job.He's sort of a Gospel promoter, that goes around plantin' churches hereand there,--home missionary, he calls it, though I always thought a homemissionary was one that was home from China on a half-pay visit.
Mainly he says he drifts around through the coke oven and glass worksdistrict, where all the Polackers and other dagoes work. He don't let itgo with preachin' to 'em, though. He pokes around among their shacks,seein' how they live, sendin' doctors for sick babies, givin' the womenfolks hints on the use of fresh air and hard soap, an' advisin' 'em tokeep their kids in school. He's one of them strenuous chaps, too, thatbelieves in stirrin' up a fuss whenever he runs across anything he thinksis wrong. One of the fights he's been making is something about the boysin the glass works.
"Perhaps you have heard of our efforts to have a child labor bill passedin our State?" says he.
"No," says I; "but I'm against it. There's enough kids has to answer themill whistle, without passin' laws to make 'em."
Then he explains how the bill is to keep 'em from goin' at it too young,or workin' too many hours on a stretch. Course, I'm with him on that, andsays so.
"Ah!" says he. "Then you may be interested to learn that young Mr. Rankinis the most extensive employer of child labor in our State. That is whatI want to talk to him about."
"Ever see Bobby?" says I.
He says he hasn't.
"Know anything of his habits, and so on?" I asks.
"Not a thing," says the Rev. Sam.
"Then you take it from me," says I, "that you ain't missed much."
See? I couldn't go all over that record of Bobby Brut's, specially to apreacher. Not that Bobby was the worst that ever cruised around the MilkyWay in a sea goin' cab with his feet over the dasher; but he wassomething of a torrid proposition while he lasted. You remember some ofhis stunts, maybe? I hadn't kept strict tabs on him; but I'd heard thatafter they chucked him out of the sanatorium his mother planted him here,with a man nurse and a private doctor, and slid off to Europe to staywith her son-in-law Count until folks forgot about Bobby.
And this was the youth the Rev. Mr. Hooker had come to have a heart toheart talk with!
"Ain't you takin' a lot of trouble, just for a few Polackers?" says I.
"They are my brothers," says he, quiet like.
"What!" says I. "You don't look it."
His mouth corners flickers a little at that, and there comes a glimmer inthem solemn gray eyes of his; but he goes on to say that it's part of hisbelief that every man is his brother.
"Gee!" says I. "You've adopted a big fam'ly."
But say, he's so dead in earnest about it, and he talks so sensible aboutother things, besides appearin' so white clear through, that I can't helplikin' the cuss.
"Look here!" says I. "This is way out of my line, and it strikes me as abatty proposition anyway; but if you're still anxious to have a chin withBobby, maybe I can fix it."
"Thank you, thank you!" says he, givin' me the grateful grip.
It's a good deal easier than I'd thought. All I does is get one ofBobby's retinue on the house 'phone, tell who I am, and say I wasthinkin' of droppin' up with a couple of friends for a short call, ifBobby's agreeable. Seems he was, for inside of two minutes we're on ourway up in the elevator.
Got any idea of the simple way a half baked young plute can live in aplace like the Perzazzer? He has one floor of a whole wing cut off forhis special use,--about twenty rooms, I should judge,--and there washired hands standin' around in every corner. We're piloted in over thePersian rugs, with the preacher blinkin' his eyes to keep from seein'some of the statuary and oil paintin's.
At last we comes to a big room with an eastern exposure, furnished like ashow window. Sittin' at a big mahogany table in the middle is a narrowbrowed, pop eyed, bat eared young chap in a padded silk dressin' gown,and I remembers him for the Bobby Brut I used to see floatin' around withthe Trixy-Madges at the lobster palaces. He has a couple of decks ofcards laid out in front of him, and I guesses he's havin' a go atCanfield solitaire. Behind his chair stands a sour faced lackey who holdsup his hand for us to wait.
Bobby don't look up at all. He's shiftin' the cards around, tryin' tomake 'em come out right, doin' it quick and nervous. All of a sudden thelackey claps his hand down on a pile and says, "Beg pardon, sir, but youcan't do that."
"Blast you!" snarls Bobby. "And I was just getting it! Why didn't youlook the other way? Bah!" and he sends the whole lot flyin' on the floor.Do you catch on? He has the lackey there to see that he don't cheathimself.
But while the help was pickin' up the cards Bobby gets a glimpse of ourtrio, ranged up against the door draperies.
"Hello, Shorty McCabe!" he sings out. "It's bully of you to drop in.Nobody comes to see me any more--hardly a soul. Say, do you think there'sanything the matter with my head?"
"Can't say your nut shows any cracks from here," says I. "Who's beentellin' you it did?"
"Why, all those blasted doctors," says he. "They won't even let me go outalone. But say," here he beckons me up and whispers mysterious, "I'll fix'em yet! You just wait till I get my animals trained. You wait!" Then heclaps his hands and hollers, "Atkins! Set 'em going!"
Atkins, he stops scrabblin' after the cards and starts around the room.And say, would you believe it, on all the tables and mantelpieces was alot of those toy animals, such as they sell durin' the holidays. Therewas lions and tigers and elephants, little and big, and every last one of'em has its head balanced so it'll move up and down when you touch it.Atkins' job was to go from one to the other and set 'em bobbin'. Them onthe mantels wa'n't more'n a few inches long; but on the floor, hid behindchairs, was some that was life size. One was a tiger, made out of a realskin, and when his head goes his jaws open and shut, and his tail lashesfrom side to side, as natural as life. Say, it was weird to watch thatcollection, all noddin' away together--almost gave you the willies!
"Are they all going?" says Bobby.
"Yes, sir," says Atkins, standin' attention.
"What do you think, eh?" says Bobbie, half shuttin' his pop eyes andstarin' at me, real foxy.
"Great scheme!" says I. "Didn't know you had a private zoo up here. Butsay, I brought along someone that wants to have a little chin with you."
With that I hauls the Rev. Sam to the front and gives him the nudge tofire away. And say, he's all primed! He begins by givin' Bobbie a wordpicture of the Rankin glass works at night, when the helpers are carryin'the trays from t
he hot room, where the blowers work three-hour shifts,with the mercury at one hundred and twenty, to the coolin' room, whereit's like a cellar. He tells him how many helpers there are, how manyhours they work a day, and what they get for it. It didn't make me yearnfor a job.
"And here," says the Rev. Mr. Hooker, pullin' the Dummy up by the sleeve,"is what happens. This boy went to work in your glass factory when he wasthirteen. He was red cheeked, clear eyed, then, and he had a normalbrain. He held his job six years. Then he was discharged. Why? Because hewasn't of any more use. He was all in, the juice sapped out of him, asdry as a last year's cornhusk. Look at him! Any doubt about his beingused up? And what happened to him is happening to thousands of otherboys. So I have come here to ask you, Mr. Rankin, if you are proud ofturning out such products? Aren't you ready to stop hiringthirteen-year-old boys for your works?"
Say, it was straight from the shoulder, that talk,--no flourishes, nofine words! And what do you guess Bobby Brut has to say? Not a blamedthing! I doubt if he heard more'n half of it, anyway; for he's got hiseyes set on that pasty face of Dummy Kronacher, and is followin' hismotions.
The Dummy ain't payin' any attention to the speech, either. He's gotsight of all them animals with their heads bobbin', and a silly grinspreads over his face. First he sidles over to the mantel and touches upone that was about stopped. Then he sees another, and starts that offagain, and by the time Hooker is through the Dummy is as busy andcontented as you please, keepin' them tigers and things movin'.
"Well?" says the Rev. Sam.
"Eh?" says Bobby, tearin' his eyes off the Dummy. "Were you sayingsomething about the glass works? Beastly bore! I never go near them. Butsay! I want that chap over there. I want to hire him. What's his name?"
"Dummy Kronacher," says the Rev. Sam, comin' out strong on the firstword.
"Good!" says Bobbie. "Hey, Dummy? What will you take to stay here with meand do that right along?"
Dummy has just discovered a stuffed alligator that can snap its jaws andwiggle its tail. He only looks up and grins.
"I'll make it a hundred a month," says Bobbie. "Well, that's settled.Atkins, you're fired! And say, McCabe, I must show this new man how Iwant this business done. You and your friend run in some other time, willyou?"
"But," says Hooker, "can't you do something about those helpers? Won'tyou promise to----"
"No!" snaps Bobby. "I've no time to bother with such things. Atkins, show'em out!"
Well, we went. We goes so sudden the Rev. Sam forgets about leavin' theDummy until we're outside, and then he's for goin' back after him.
"What for?" says I. "That pair'll get along fine; they're two of akind."
"I guess you're right," says he. "And it's something to have broughtthose two together. Perhaps someone will see the significance of it, someday."
Now what was he drivin' at then? You can search me. All I've been able tomake out of it is that what ails the poor is poverty, and the troublewith the plutes is that they've got too much. Eh? Barney Shaw saidsomething like that too? Well, don't let on I agree with him. He mightget chesty.