CHAPTER IV
DON'T GIVE UP THE TIP!
Listen! If you ever wake up some mornin' with an idea for somethingnew--whether it's a soup, a vaudeville act or a religion--and youexpect to cash on it, go to the nearest hardware store and ask the guybehind the counter how much he'll take for all the locks in the joint.Take 'em at any price and fasten 'em on the door of the safe where youkeep the idea--the same bein' your mouth--and then throw the keys inany good, deep river!
If the inventors of stud poker, movin' pictures, the alligator pear,pneumonia and so forth had gone around talkin' about them things beforethey got 'em patented they never would of took in a nickel on theiridea, but their _friends_ would be draggin' down the royalties yet!The minute you tip another guy to your stunt it's yours and his both.He mightn't _mean_ to steal your stuff, but he can't help himself. Themore he thinks about it, the better he likes it, and it ain't longbefore he gets believin' it was _his_ idea anyways and where do you getoff by claimin' you thought of it?
I admit freely that you can't cash on your scheme unless you get itbefore the world, but the thing is to wait till you got it covered withso many copyrights and patents that not even the James Boys could stealit and then _tell 'em all at once_!
If Edgar Simmons had of did that, he'd be a rich millionaire to-dayinstead of havin' to cut his winnin's with Alex. Edgar had an idea,and he didn't know what to do with it.
Alex did!
The wife and I is sittin' down to the evenin' meal one night, when thetelephone rings. Only one of us got up.
"Hello!" I says.
"Hello!" is the answer. "This is Alex. What would you say to merunnin' up there to supper to-night?"
"Nothin'," I answers. "I see where they was a guy got pinched onlylast week for swearin' over the phone!"
"Look here!" he says, kinda peeved. "Do you want me to come up thereto-night or don't you?"
"Don't you!" I says.
"They's plenty of places where they would be glad to have me todinner," he snarls. "Places that is just as good as yours!"
"How do _you_ know how good they are?" I says. "You ain't never triedno dinners nowheres else but up here."
"They ain't no man can keep me from seein' my cousin!" he says. "TellAlice I'll be right up!"
I hung up the phone.
"Well," I says to the wife, "I got bad news for you."
"Who was it?" she asks, droppin' the knittin' layout on the floor.
"That trick relative of yours," I tells her. "He's comin' up here fordinner again, so I guess I'll go down to the corner and play a littlepinochle."
"You ought to be the weather man," says the wife, "you're such a rottenguesser! You ain't goin' nowheres. You're gonna stay here and helpentertain Alex."
"Entertain him?" I says. "What d'ye think I am--a trained seal orsomethin'?"
"Don't kid yourself!" she says. "You ain't even makin' the money Icould get with a trained seal! You gotta stop this pinochle thing--youdon't see Alex wastin' his time playin' pinochle with a lotta loafers!"
"You bet you don't!" I comes back. "You'll never see Alex playin' nogame where they's a chance of the other guy winnin'! He wouldn't betzero was cold! And don't be callin' my friends loafers--every one ofthem guys is successful business men!"
"That mob you hid out in here one night looked like a lotta plumbers tome!" she says. "Any man who sits up half the night playin' cards is aloafer!"
"One of them loafers I while away my time with lives in the next flat,"I says, "and the dumbwaiter door is wide open."
"I don't care," says the wife, flushin' all up. "Let him hear me!"
"I ain't stoppin' him," I says. "But you don't want it to get rumoredall over New York that you and me is quarrelin', do you?"
The wife's answer is nothin'. She walks over to the window and looksout on Manhattan, doin' a soft shoe dance with one toe on the floor.If bein' good lookin' was water, she'd be Niagara Falls. You've seenher picture many a time on a can of massage cream--which she nevertouched in her life! The label claims it was this stuff that put herover, but she don't know whether rouge is for red cheeks or measles.They ain't a day goes by without some movie company pesterin' her tosign up, and she can write her own ticket when it comes to salary.Well, I'm in dutch again, but I don't care! This here knockout is wedto me, and they ain't _nothin'_ can give me the blues!
"Listen!" I says. "Honey, we only been wed ten years--and here we arescrappin' _already_!"
She turns on the weeps and I'm across the floor like a startled rabbit.We come to terms in about five minutes, and as far as a disinterestedstranger could of seen, everything is O.K. again.
"Well," I says, finally, "you ain't mad at me no more, heh, honey?"
She wags her head, no.
"We got _that_ all settled, heh?" I says.
Her head is on my shoulder and why shouldn't it be, and she says yes.
They is a pause. To bust it up, I coughs.
"If that pest Alex wasn't comin' here to-night," I says, "we might goto the theatre."
"The _movies_ hurts my eyes!" she answers, givin' me a sarcasticalsmile.
"D'ye mean to give the neighbors the idea I have never staked you tonothin' but the movies?" I hollers, gettin' sore, naturally enough.
"Don't be callin' my cousin no pest!" she says and--well, we're offagain!
In less than five minutes, some new-comers which has a flat across thehall, knocks on the dumbwaiter bell furiously. I answered.
"Why don't you people let go?" inquires a harsh voice. "We can't standthat tourney in there no longer!"
"They ain't no way of puttin' a man in jail for movin'," I says.
"The idea of a man hollerin' at his wife like that!" comes a femalevoice in back of this guy.
"Shut up--I'm doin' this!" exclaims her lovin' spouse,--and then theyhad a melee of their own!
In the middle of this our doorbell rings and in comes Alex.
"They should of named this apartment house the Verdun," he says. "Theyseems to be a battle goin' on here every time I come up! I could hearevery word you people was sayin' as plain as day, away out in the hall!"
"What did you come in for then?" I asks him. "Especially as you couldhear this was the rush hour!"
He ignores me and kisses the wife--a thing he knows gets me wild.
"Now, boys!" butts in the wife, splittin' her world famous grinfifty-fifty, "let's stop quarrelin'. They ain't a reason on earth whywe can't be friends, even if we are relatives."
"When are you gonna have dinner?" asks Alex.
"This here's eatless night with us," I says. "Not to give you a shortanswer."
"Don't pay no attention to him, Alex," says the wife. "You know youcan eat here whenever you want."
"Sure!" I says. "Don't mind me. All I gotta do is pay for thisstuff--that's all!"
The wife gimme a bitter glance.
"That's right," she says. "Tell the world that I have wed a tightwad!"
"What d'ye mean?" I hollers. "I'm as loose as ashes with my money andthey ain't nobody knows it better than you. I don't even moan over themonthly phone bill, which from the last one you musta been callin' upfriends in Australia!"
"Here!" butts in Alex. "This thing's gotta stop! Come on, kiss andmake up. The first thing you know the Red Cross will be openin' abranch here. If I didn't know how much you people loved each other,I'd get the idea that you was really angry."
"Of course we love each other!" I says. "We only pull this now andthen so's we won't get sickenin' to the neighbors by billin' and cooin'_all_ the time! Ain't I right, honey?"
"Are you sorry?" inquires the wife.
"Sorry?" I says. "Why, I'd go out and buy a tube of carbolic acid ifit wasn't so high!"
With that they was peace.
We're just sittin' down to a well-earned meal, when the bell ringsagain. Actin' as maid is one of the best things I do around my fiverooms, if you count the bath, so I answered it. They was a man
and awoman standin' there and my heart run up to play with my tonsils when Iseen them. I figured they was a couple more guests for dinner and youknew what they're askin' for steak these days.
"I'm sorry to bother you," says the dame, "but we are the people wholive in the flat right under yours."
"If you think we're too noisy, moan to the landlord!" I says, "I gottaright to stage an argument in my flat whenever I so choose!"
She giggles. The guy that was with her don't make a sound.
"Why, I'm sure we never heard any noise from above," she says. "Ithink you and your wife are no doubt the quietest folks in the wholehouse."
Oh, boy!!!
"How long have you been deaf?" I says.
"You're just like your wife claims," she grins. "Full of life and fun!But I'm keepin' you from your food, ain't I? I wanted to know if you'dlet Mister Simmons climb down your fire escape."
"Feed him some veronal," I says, "and he'll no doubt be O.K. in themornin'. The first day is always tough!"
"Why, what do you mean?" she says. "I merely asked if my husband couldclimb down your fire escape."
I seen I had wild pitched the first time, so I tried my luck again.
"Is your joint on fire?" I says.
"Oh, no!" she tells me. "But we are locked out. My husband invented anew kind of lock--he's always inventing something that will doeverything but work. He put this lock on our door and now he can'topen it himself! Isn't that killing?"
"A riot!" I admits. "Come right in."
The wife is gettin' nervous at me bein' out there so long, and when sheheard a female voice laughin', of course that didn't help matters none.She meets this dame half way in the hall and the minute they seen eachother they fall together in fond embrace. I found out later they'dknown each other as long as a week and the last time they met was anhour before.
Well, we get introduced all around and then this bird which invented alock that nobody on earth could open, includin' himself, goes out onthe fire escape followed by his charmin' wife. They entered their flatby the novel method of usin' the kitchen window. This guy didn't openhis mouth from the time he come in till he went out, and when spoke to,he blushed all over and acted like he wished to Heaven he could hideunder the sofa. His wife, though, had nothin' against conversation asa sport. She was talkin' when she come in and she went out the sameway. I never seen nobody in my life who could talk as fast andfrequent as this dame and if her husband had hung that trick lock onher tongue he would of made himself solid with me!
"That's that lovely Mrs. Simmons," says the wife, when they had went."It's too bad her husband ain't a live one."
"Gettin' married has buried many a good man!" I says.
"It didn't change _you_ none," she says. "You was a dead one when Igot you!"
"Here!" butts in Alex. "Don't you people get started again! I wannafinish my supper in peace. What's wrong with Mister Simmons?"
"He ain't got no pep," says the wife. "They's many a more ambitiousman than he is with a tomb around him! He's been keepin' books fortwenty dollars a week since the discovery of arithmetic, and he ain'tgot a raise since they blowed up the _Maine_. He's afraid to ask formore money for fear the boss will find out he's on the pay roll andfire him. They's one ounce more brains in a billiard ball than they isin his head. He--"
"Wait!" interrupts Alex. "This here sounds interestin' to me. In thefirst place, they ain't a doubt in my mind but what you got that fellerfigured all wrong! Like all the rest of you simple minded and innocentNew Yorkers, you get brains and _imagination_ mixed. They is a bigdifference! _Brains_ is what puts a man over, and _imagination_ iswhat keeps him back. The ideal combination is all brains and noimagination! The feller with brains sets his mind on what he wants,forgets everything else, goes to it and gets it. He don't for a minuteconsider what might happen if he fails, or that the thing he proposeshas never been done before, or that maybe his scheme ain't really asgood as he first thought it was. Why don't he think of them things?Because he ain't got no imagination! The imaginative feller is beatfrom the start. He keeps thinkin' from every possible angle, whatmight happen to him if he _fails_ and, by the time he gets that allfigured out, his idea is cold and his enthusiasm for it has drowned inthe sea of possibilities his roamin' mind has created! The fellerwhich said, 'look before you leap!' might of been clever, but I bet hethought a five-dollar bill was as big as they made 'em till he went tohis grave! If I'd had imagination, I'd never of come to New York andmade good. I'd of been afraid the town was too big for me. Now thisfeller Simmons, I'll betcha, is simply sufferin' from a case of toomuch imagination. He must have _somethin'_ in his head or he couldn'teven keep books. It takes brains to balance accounts, the same as ittakes money to pay 'em. Am I right?"
"What d'ye say, if we go to the movies?" I says.
Alex gets up in disgust.
"Is that all the interest I'm gettin' here?" he asks.
"This ain't no bank!" I tells him.
"Be still!" says the wife. "I heard every word you said, Alex dear. Ithink you're horribly interestin'. But I still claim Simmons is afat-head whose butcher bill gives him trouble every month! He nevertakes that poor wife of his nowheres, but a walk past the Fifth AvenueLibrary, and she don't know if they have dancin' or swimmin' incabarets. He's always drawin' things on pieces of paper, and he sitsup half the night inventin' what-nots that would be all right, if theywasn't useless."
"Yes," says Alex, "and some day he'll hit on somethin' that'll prob'lymake him famous!"
"I wanna see Beryldine Nearer in 'The Vaccinated Vampire'," I says,reachin' for my hat. "I seen her last week in 'Almost A Fiend' and shewas a knockout!"
"Shut up!" says the wife. "What was you sayin', again, Alex?"
"I says it's the dreamer which has made the world what it is to-day,"he goes on, strikin' a pose. "He _thinks_ of somethin' and thepractical feller comes along and makes money out of it. Take--"
"They ain't no man can keep me from the movies!" I butts in. "I ain'tgonna be late and only see half of this picture. I done that toooften! You and Alice can fight it out amongst yourselves if--"
"All right!" says the wife. "Come on, we'll all go. I admit freelyI'm crazy to see Beryldine Nearer again, myself. I seen a gown on herin the last picture which I think I can duplicate in time for Mrs.Martin's card party. We'll ask Mr. and Mrs. Simmons to go with us too.The poor dear, it'll be a treat for her."
"It'll be a treat for her husband, too!" I says. "I ain't gonna takethe whole neighborhood to the movies. You must think I'm the LibertyLoan, don't you?"
The wife comes over and kisses me.
"Now, dear," she says. "Don't be so close across the chest. Won't youtake 'em for me?"
Well, when all Broadway used to roll over and play dead when she pulledthat smile, what chance have _I_ got?
"I'd take carbolic for you!" I answers, givin' her a squeeze. "Goahead, honey, invite the first two pagefuls outa the phone book if youwant and I'll take 'em all!"
"There you go," she says. "No wonder we're not wealthy! If it wasn'tfor me holdin' you down, we wouldn't have a nickel. I'll call down andtell Mrs. Simmons to get ready--they may have an engagement themselves!"
"I doubt if I'm lucky enough for that to happen!" I says.
Well, I missed out again. They come up all right, and Mrs. Simmons istickled to death. When set for the street, she was a pretty goodlooker herself, but Simmons ain't even got a hat with him.
"Mister Simmons prefers to stay at home," says his wife, causin' myheart to leap with joy. "He has some important work to do, haven'tyou, dear?"
Simmons flushes all up.
"Why--eh--yes--quite so--much obliged--excuse me," he stutters, backin'away like he thought I'd wallop him for not goin'.
Alex is lookin' at him strangely.
"Pardon me," he says. "We just been talkin' over some of the wonderfulideas you been workin' on. I have a inventive twist in my brainsmyself
and that lock you put together interests me very much. Could Isee it?"
Simmons brightens up in a flash and commences to grin.
"I'd be very glad indeed to show it to you," he says. "Very glad! Itsa--"
Alex goes over and puts his arm on his shoulder.
"You folks run along to the movies," he tells us. "Mr. Simmons and meis got a little conference on--eh, Simmons?" He prods him in the ribsand giggles.
Simmons wags his head. A guy with two glass eyes could see he wastickled silly.
I dragged the rest of 'em out.
Well, we come in from the movie around eleven o'clock and stopped inthe Simmons flat. They had dragged me into a delicatessen parlor onthe way back and put the bee on me for a cold lunch. We was to eat itin Mrs. Simmons's flat. All she furnished was the idea. Alex andSimmons is sittin' in the dinin' room and they're so interested in eachother they don't even look up when we come in. The table is full ofdrawin's and blue prints and scraps of paper all covered over withfigures. Simmons is pointin' out somethin' to Alex on a piece ofpaper, and I'll lay the world four to one Alex ain't got the slightestidea what the other guy's talkin' about, but he's listenin' like he'shearin' the secret of makin' gold outa mud.
"I'll bet you have gone to work and bored Mister Hanley half to death!"says his wife. "How often have I told you that strangers is notinterested in them fool ideas of yours?"
"Not at all!" says Alex. "I fail to recall when I spent such aenjoyable night. Mister Simmons is a genius, if they ever was one, andI predict a great future for his automatic cocktail shaker. Then, ifhe gets his keyless lock workin' right, why--"
"Let's eat in the kitchen, it's cosier," interrupts Mrs. Simmons. "Doyou folks mind?"
They was no bloodshed over it, and we all went in. Simmons claims hewould like to change his collar, and invites me back to look over theflat, a treat the wife has already had. Once we get in his boudoir, hefinds they is everything in the world in it with the exception of aclean collar, and he calls Mrs. Simmons to the rescue.
"Here!" she says, handin' him the laundry. "Hurry up, so's we can eat.He's always losin' somethin'!" she remarks.
I got a comical answer on the tip of my tongue, when Simmons drops hiscollar button on the floor, and, the same as all the other collarbuttons in the world, they picked out the furtherest corners of theroom to roll into. The poor boob gets as red as a four-alarm fire andgoes crawlin' around the room tryin' to run them collar buttons down.
"It's too bad them buttons wasn't made of rubber," I says, thinkin' topass the thing off. "They would of bounced right back in your hand,hey?"
He straightens up like he had stepped on a egg and runs his handsthrough his hair.
"A rubber collar button!" he mutters. "A rubber collar button!No--no--not _rubber_, but--"
"My Gawd!" cuts in Mrs. Simmons. "Will he _ever_ stop it? Sit downand eat, folks, he's ravin' again! Here, Edgar, try some of this coldham. It set our friends back a dollar and it ought to be good!"
"I'm--I'm sorry!" pipes Edgar, movin' away with that little, nervousstep of his. "I couldn't eat a thing. I got a headache, Iguess--I--excuse me, but I'll see you all again."
With that he blows.
"Ain't he the limit?" inquires Mrs. Simmons, grabbin' the choicest bitsof that ham and goin' south with it.
"Mine's worse!" remarks the wife. "What would them men ever do withoutus?"
"Save money!" I says. "Slip me some of that cold chicken, will you?--Igot a stomach, too!"
Well, we didn't see Edgar Simmons no more that night. In fact it wasall of two weeks before he appeared again, and then it was by way ofthe phone. He asked me if I would tell my Cousin Alex to come down atonce, he had somethin' very important to tell him. I waited tillsupper had come and gone that night, and then I got hold of Alex. Thewife and Mrs. Simmons went to the theatre together and I arranged theconference for my flat. The minute Alex arrived I phoned Simmons andhe come right up. He's all excited over somethin' and he's got aparcel under his arm.
"I have followed your advice," he tells Alex, "and at last I'veinvented something practical. There's millions in it!"
"What?" I says. "The mint?"
Alex kicks me in the shins under the table so hard that I moaned aloud.
"What is it?" he asks.
Simmons unwraps the parcel and pulls out a piece of cloth. It's theneckband of a shirt and the same as the ordinary neckband in everyway--except it's got collar buttons _built right into it_!
"What's the idea?" I asks.
"Heavens, man, can't you grasp it?" says Simmons, slammin' the tablewith his fist. "Here we have the only collar button in the world _thatcan't be lost_! You never have to look for it, because it's alwaysattached to the shirt. You can't lose the button unless you lose theshirt! It's made right with it! It--"
"Wait!" butts in Alex, leapin' to his feet. "Simmons--you have gotsomethin'! Is it patented?"
"Yes," says Simmons.
"Have you felt out the shirt people on it?" asks Alex next.
"That's what I wanted to see _you_ about," says Simmons. "I can't getthem to look at it! I get shifted from one subordinate to another andthey seem to think I'm some sort of a crank. If I could only get itbefore Philip Calder, the president of the Brown-Calder Shirt Company,I'd be made!"
"Hmm!" grunts Alex. "Well, what d'ye want _me_ to do?"
Simmons coughs and fidgets with the button.
"It struck me when you was talkin' to me the other night," he says,"that if there was one man in New York who could see Calder and makehim realize the merits of my invention, you were that man! Will youtry it?"
"I'll _do_ it!" answers Alex. "Gimme the model and you'll hear from mein a few days. Do you wish to sell the neckbands themselves, or justthe patent on your idea?"
"I don't care who makes the neckbands," says Simmons, "as long as I getpaid for my invention! Of course, I don't expect you to help me fornothing, either."
"Ha! ha!" I butts in. "That bird wouldn't tell you the time fornothing You'll be lucky if you ever even see that invention any more!"
"Don't mind my cousin," Alex tells him. "Outside of a tendency to themeasles, he's the worst thing we got in our family! We'll take up thefinancial end of this later."
Bright and early the next mornin', or eleven o'clock to be exact, Alexinvites me to go with him so's I can watch how he would go about seein'the president of the Brown-Calder Company and sellin' him the Simmonspatent collar button. As they is always a chance that Alex will falldown, I went along. We had no trouble at all landin' outside thepresident's office, but once we got there it was different.
"Is Mister Calder in?" says Alex to a blond stenographer, which lookslike them movie queens would like to.
She puts four stray hairs back of her left ear and arises.
"Have you got an appointment?" she inquires.
"No," grins Alex, "my nose got that way from bein' hit with a baseball."
She had lovely teeth and showed 'em to us.
"Cards?" she says next, lookin' from one of us to the other.
"I'll play these!" says Alex. "Listen! I wanna go in Mister Calder'soffice without bein' announced. I ain't seen him for years and he'llbe tickled silly when we meet. I wanna sneak in and just be there thefirst time he looks around. I'm a surprise--see?"
She looks kinda doubtful.
"W-e-ll, I don't know," she says. "I've only been here sinceyesterday, but my orders is to let nobody past this gate without firstfindin' out their business and so forth. Still and all, I don't wannabe harsh with none of the boss's old college chums or nothin' likethat. If you can guarantee I won't lose my job, I'll let you get awaywith it."
"If you lose your job," says Alex, openin' the gate and pullin' me inafter him, "I'll hire you for five dollars more than you're gettin'here. All right?"
"I only trust you're man enough to keep your word," she says. "Theboss's office is the first one to the left."
/> "Thanks," says Alex. "Them eyes of yours is alone worth the trip!"
This guy Calder's door is open and he's sittin' at a big desk writin'away on somethin' like everything depended on speed. He's a great, bigfat bird, with one of them trick Chaplin mustaches and he's smokin' acigar as big as he is. His head is playin' it's hairless day. All inall, he looked like big business, and my knees is knockin' togethertill I'm afraid he'll hear 'em and turn around. Alex gumshoes up tothe desk and without sayin' a word, he lays the neckband right downbeside Calder, who immediately swings around with a snort.
"What's all this--how did you get in here?" he bellers.
"We took the subway down from Ninety-sixth Street," says Alex. "Thatthing you got in your hand is the neckband of a shirt."
"Well?" growls Calder, tappin' the desk with a lead pencil.
"It contains two collar buttons--one front and one back," says Alex."As you may have noticed, they are built right into the cloth and aremeant to come _attached to the shirt_. This does away forever with thenecessity of buying a collar button. It cannot be broken, lost ormislaid. Any shirt manufacturer making shirts with this neckbandattached will naturally have the bulge on his rivals. I can turn outthe neckband for practically nothing. I hold the patent."
Calder sneers.
"Ha!" he says. "There's a million cranks come in my office every day.I suppose you want to sell me this, eh?"
"No, sir!" says Alex, with a pleasant grin.
I liked to fell through the floor at that!
"_No_, sir?" repeats Calder, droppin' the pencil.
"No, sir!" answers Alex.
"Well, what the--what _do_ you want then?" roars Calder. "Come now,speak up. I'll give you five minutes, that's all!"
"That's three minutes more than I got to spare!" chirps Alex, pullin'over a chair. "I don't want you to _buy_ this neckband, Mister Calder.What I want is this--I know that _you_ are the greatest authority onshirts and everything connected with the business, in the United Statesif not in the world! I think I have a big thing here, a thing thatwill revolutionize one end of that business. I say I _think_ so,because I don't know. Now--the concern I represent wants your opinionof it. We're willing to pay to have you, the world's greatestauthority, go on record as to the merits of this invention. If you sayit's no good, I'll throw it away and forget about it; if you say it'sgood, I'll have no trouble placing it anywhere in the world!"
Well, say! That old guy brightens all up when Alex calls him thechampion shirtmaker of the world, and pickin' up the band, he turns itover in his hands a few times. You could see that the old salve Alexhanded him had gone big!
"Hmph!" he says, finally. "How much would these things cost me?"
"Roughly speakin', about three cents each," says Alex.
"How long will they stand up under laundering?" is the next questionCalder fires at him.
"They're the only thing that won't come out in the wash!" answers Alex,without battin' an eye.
The old guy smiles and presses a button. In comes a clerk.
"Send in Mister Lacy, no matter what he's doing, at once!" barksCalder. He turns to Alex as the clerk flees from the room. "Have youbeen anywhere else with this?" he asks.
Alex looks pained.
"Why, Mister Calder!" he says, "certainly not! Before I went anyfurther I wanted the opinion of the greatest--"
This Lacy guy comes in.
"Mister Lacy is superintendent of our manufacturing department," saysCalder. "I'm going to talk with him for three minutes about the effectof the war on the onion crop in Beloochistan. I'll send for you at theexpiration of that time. Ah--you can leave the--ah--neckband here!"
"Pardon me!" says Alex, "I have got to be up at the office of theEvers-Raine Shirt Company at three and I can just about make it."
"What the devil are you going to another shirt company for?" roarsCalder.
"I have an old friend in the--ah--manufacturing department," says Alex,lookin' straight at him, "who I'm very anxious to see."
Well, they stare at each other for a minute without sayin' a word.They're both playin' poker, and it's Calder who lays his down first!
"Look here!" he grunts. "I'm going to take an option on this infernalthing for a week. How much is that worth to you?"
"Ten thousand dollars," answers Alex, pleasantly.
"I'll pay seven and give you a check right now!" says Calder, slammin'the desk with his fist. "Here, Lacy!" he says to the other guy. "Thisis what we'll put on our shirts hereafter, unless I'm very muchmistaken! What do you think of it?"
Lacy picks up the neckband and looks at it.
"And to think," he mutters in an awed voice. "And to think nobody everthought of this before!"
"Hmm!" says Calder, takin' the band back. "That's all settled then!Young man," he says to Alex, "the cashier will give you a check. Comeback at the end of the week and I'll either give you back yourneckband, or a contract for five hundred thousand of them a year fortwenty years!"
"Thanks!" says Alex. "Will you have that check certified?"
Well, Simmons like to went insane with joy when we sprung the news onhim and Alex insists on him takin' that seven thousand dollar checkwhole. He didn't ask for a nickel, which had me puzzled. Mrs. Simmonsgoes out shoppin' for furs, diamonds and automobiles, and the wife asksme why I don't invent somethin', but outside of that they was nothin'more doin' till the end of the week. Then, Alex comes up and breaksthe news to Simmons that the Brown-Calder Shirt Company will take allthe neckbands that Simmons can supply, as long as people wear shirts.
"We have got to deliver 50,000 in a month," says Alex, "at the rate oftwo and a half cents apiece. Can you do it?"
Simmons falls back on the sofa in a dead faint!
Well, they was great excitement and the wife finally brings him to lifewith smellin' salts.
"It was prob'ly the sudden mention of so much money, eh?" I says.
"I'm ruined!" hollers Simmons, leapin' up and dancin' around. "Why, ittook me two weeks to make that one miserable model I gave you!" heyells at Alex. "I couldn't make fifty thousand of them things in alifetime!"
Alexis eyes glitters.
"Here!" he says, slappin' Simmons on the back. "Pull yourselftogether, man! You've got to think of somethin'. How did you makethat one?"
"By hand!" wails Simmons.
"Well, they must be some way of makin' a machine that can turn out somany thousand an hour!" says Alex, walkin' back and forth. "Why--"
"I don't care who makes 'em!" says Simmons. "All I want is to get paidfor my idea. I--"
"Listen to me!" interrupts Alex, shakin' him. "Can't you invent somekind of a machine for turnin' them neckbands out?"
"Oh, I had a little something figured out the other night," saysSimmons, "but what's the use of me botherin' with that? Why, a machineof that kind would cost at least twenty thousand dollars to make!Where can I get that much money?"
"Look here!" Alex tells him. "You got seven and I'll loan you thebalance. You get busy on that machine right away--there's no time tolose!" He grabs his hat. "Come with me and I'll get you the money andthen we'll go to my lawyer and draw up a--that is, I'll take yourreceipt."
That's the last I seen of either of them for a month. At the end ofthat time, the wife tells me one day that Mr. and Mrs. Simmons isgivin' a big dinner that night and that Alex will be there. They'llnever notice us no more, if we don't come. Besides, they're goin' fora trip around the country in a few days and this here's a farewellparty.
Well, it's a soup and fish affair, and naturally it takes the wife halfthe night to get dressed up for it. Fin'ly, however, she's dressed tothrill and we blowed in. The minute we did, Simmons pulls me over in acorner where Alex is sittin', smilin' like his name was George Q.Goodhumor.
"Well, sir!" says Simmons, no longer shy and retirin', "I just aboutcleaned up. My machine is turnin' out three thousand bands an hour,and I get a cent for each and every one!"
&nb
sp; "You fin'ly doped out a machine then, heh?" I says.
"Oh, yes!" he tells me. "But unfortunately I don't control it. I haveto pay the owner for each band turned out, although it's my invention.But I'm satisfied! I got a bonus of twenty-five thousand dollars fromthe Brown-Calder people for selling them the exclusive rights to usethe neckband, and then we have the foreign rights to--"
"Wait!" I cuts in, turnin' to Alex. All this big money talk was makin'me dizzy. "Where do _you_ get off?" I asks him.
"Well, I put the neckband over, didn't I?" he says.
"Yes," I admits, "but Simmons invented it and he gets the royalty. Howmuch cash did he give you?"
"Nothing!" grins Alex.
I looked at Simmons.
"Perfectly correct!" he says, outgrinnin' Alex.
"You--did all that for _nothin'_ I hollers, not believin' my ears.
"Well, hardly that," says Alex, lightin' a half-dollar cigar. "You seeI loaned Mister Simmons thirteen thousand dollars, if you remember, sothat he could make his machine."
"Yeh, yeh!" I says, gettin' impatient. "And--"
"Well, as it stands now," says Alex, "every time the machine turns outa neckband, he gets a cent out of the two and a half cents profit."
"Sure--he told me that!" I says. "But where do _you_ get off?"
Alex grins some more.
"I own the machine!" he says. "Have a cigar, cousin?"