Jane Cable

by George Barr McCutcheon

  Several weeks later Eddie Deever announced, quite breathlessly,to Rigby that he was going over to visit Droom in his Wells Streetrooms. The two had found a joint affinity in Napoleon, althoughit became necessary for the law student to sit up late at night,neglecting other literature, in order to establish anything likean adequate acquaintance with the lamented Corsican.

  Rigby was now morally certain that James Bansemer was all thatHarbert had painted. To his surprise, however, the man was notopenly suspected by other members of the bar. He had been accepted asa man of power and ability. Certainly he was too clever to exposehimself and too wary to leave peepholes for others engaged in thatbusiness. Rigby was debating the wisdom of going to Bansemer withhis accusations and the secret advice to leave the city beforeanything happened that might throw shame upon Graydon. The courageto do the thing alone was lacking.

  Graydon was full of his happiness. He had asked Rigby to act ashis "best man" in September, and Bobby had promised. On occasionswhen the two young men discussed the coming event with Jane andMiss Clegg, Rigby's preoccupied air was strangely in contrast withthe animation of the others. Graydon accused his liver and advisedhim to go to French Lick. Far from that, the old quarterback wasgradually preparing himself to go to James Bansemer. To himself hewas saying, as he put off the disagreeable task from day to day:"He'll kick me out of the office and that's all the reward I'llget for my pains. Graydon will hate me in the end."

  James Bansemer had proposed a trip to Europe as a wedding journey,a present from himself, but Graydon declined. He would not takean extensive leave of absence from the office of Clegg, Groll &Davidson at this stage of his career.

  The morning after his visit to the abode of Elias Droom, EddieDeever strolled into the office of Bobby Rigby. He looked as thoughhe had spent a sleepless night. Mr. Rigby was out, but Miss Keatingwas "at home." She was scathingly polite to her delinquent admirer.Eddie's visits of late to the office had not been of a socialcharacter. He devoted much of his time to low-toned conversationswith Rigby; few were the occasions when he lounged affably uponher typewriting desk as of yore.

  "You look as if you'd had a night of it," remarked Rosie. Eddie yawnedobligingly. "Don't sit on my desk. Can't you see those letters?"

  "Gee, you're getting touchy of late. I'll move the letters."

  "No, you won't," she objected. "Besides, it doesn't look well. Whatif someone should come in--suddenly?"

  "Well, it wouldn't be the first time I got out suddenly, would it?"He retained his seat on the desk. "Say, where's Rigby?"

  "You mean MR. Rigby? He's out."

  "Gee, you're also snippy. Well, give him my regards. So long."

  He was unwinding his long legs preparatory to a descent from hisperch.

  "Don't rush," she said quickly. He rewound his legs and yawned."Goodness, you're not affected with insomnia, are you?"

  "I've got it the worst way. I got awake at eight o'clock thismorning and I couldn't go to sleep again to save my soul. It's anawful disease. Will Rigby be back soon?"

  "It won't matter. He's engaged," she snapped, cracking away at hermachine.

  "I've heard there was some prospect. She's a fine looker."

  "Rubber-neck!"

  "Say, Rosie, I'm going to ask a girl to go to the theatre with me,"said Eddie complacently.

  "Indeed! Well, ask her. I don't care."

  "To-morrow night. Will you go?"

  "Who? Me?"

  "Sure. I--I wouldn't take anybody else, you know."

  "What theatre?" she asked with her rarest smile.

  At that instant Rigby came in. Without a word Eddie popped up, abit red in the face, and followed the lawyer into the private room,closing the door behind him. Rosie's ears went very pink and shepounded the keys so viciously that the machine trembled on theverge of collapse.

  "Gee, Mr. Rigby, that old Droom's a holy terror. He kept me theretill after one o'clock. But I'm going back again soon some night.He's got an awful joint. But that isn't what I wanted to see youabout. I ran across May Rosabel, that chorus girl I was tellingyou about. Saw her downtown in a restaurant at one this morning.She wanted to buy the drinks and said she had more money than arabbit. There was a gang with her. I got her to one side and shesaid an uncle had just died and left her a fortune. She wouldn'tsay how much, but it must have been quite a bunch. I know all ofher uncles. She's got three. They work out at Pullman, Mr. Rigby,and they couldn't leave thirty cents between them if they all diedat once."

  After hearing this, Rigby decided to confront Bansemer at once. Itdid not occur to him until later that the easiest and most effectiveway to drive Bansemer from Chicago without scandal was throughElias Droom. When the thought came to him, however, he rejoiced. Thenew plan was to sow the seeds of apprehension with Droom; Bansemerwould not be long in reaping their harvest--of dismay. Ten apparentlyinnocent words from Eddie Deever would open Droom's eyes to thedangers ahead.

  Young Mr. Deever met with harsh disappointment when he came forthto renew his conversation with Rosie Keating. She was chatting atthe telephone, her face wreathed in smiles.

  "Thank you," she was saying, "it will be so nice. I was afraidI had an engagement for to-morrow night, but I haven't. Everybodysays it's a perfectly lovely play. I'm crazy to see it. What? Aboutseven-thirty. It takes nearly half an hour down on the Clark Streetcable. Slowest old thing ever. All right. Good-bye." Then she hungup the receiver and turned upon Eddie, who stood aghast near thedesk. "Oh, I thought you'd gone."

  "Say, what was that you were saying over the 'phone? Didn't I askyou--"

  "I'm going to the theatre with Mr. Kempshall. Why?"

  "WHY? Why, you know I asked you to--"

  "You didn't specify, Eddie, that's all. I'll go some other nightwith you. Good-bye." Clackety-clack went the machine, throwinginsult into his very face as it were. He tramped out of the officein high dudgeon.

  "Confound this detective business, anyhow," he might have beenheard to remark. Three nights later, however, he took Rosie to theplay, and on the fourth night he was Droom's guest again in therooms across the river. He was well prepared to begin the campaignof insinuation which was to affect Bansemer in the end. Sittingstiff and uncomfortable in the dingy living-room overlooking WellsStreet, he watched with awe the master of the place at work on thefinishing touches of a new "invention," the uses of which he didnot offer to explain.

  He was without a coat and his shirt sleeves were rolled far abovethe elbows, displaying long, sinewy arms, hairy and not unlikethose of the orang-outang Eddie had seen in Lincoln Park.

  "I've got a new way of inflicting the death penalty," the gauntold man said, slipping into a heavy, quilted dressing-gown. "Theserascals don't mind hanging or the penitentiary. But if they thoughttheir bodies would be everlastingly destroyed by quicklime, they'dhesitate before killing their fellow-men."

  "But they already bury them in quicklime in England," said Eddieloftily.

  "Yes, but not until after they're dead," said Droom with a cackle.He grinned broadly at the sight of the youth's horror-struck face."Go ahead and smoke, my boy. I'll light my pipe. Make yourself athome. I keep the window closed to keep out the sound of those WellsStreet cars. It's good of you to come over here and cheer up an oldman's evenings. I'm--I'm not used to it," he said with a wistfultouch which was lost to Eddie.

  "You ought to have a wife and a lot of children, Mr. Droom," saidEddie with characteristic thoughtlessness. Droom stirred the fireand scowled. "Were you ever married?"

  "No. I don't believe in marriage," said Droom sullenly.

  "Gee! Why not?"

  "Why should I? It's the way I was brought up."

  "You don't mean it!"

  "Yes. My father was a Catholic priest."

  "But, Great Scott, Catholics believe in marriage."

  "They don't believe in their priests marrying."

  "Well, they DON'T marry, do they?"

  "No, they don't," answered Droom with a laugh that sounded like asnarl. It took Eddi
e two days to comprehend. "I saw the girl to-daythat young Graydon Bansemer is to marry--Miss Cable."

  "Say, she's swell, isn't she?" said Eddie. The old man slunk intohis chair.

  "She's very pretty. Mr. Graydon introduced me to her."

  "Gee!" was all Eddie could say.

  "They were crossing Wells Street down below here on the way homefrom a nickel-plater's in Indiana Street. I saw her years ago, butshe didn't remember me. I didn't expect it, however."

  "I--how could she have forgotten you?"

  "Oh, she'd have forgotten her mother at that age. She was butthree months old. I don't think she liked me to-day. I'm not whatyou call a ladies' man," grinned Elias, puffing at his pipe ashe picked up the volumes on Napoleon. Eddie laughed politely butuncomfortably.

  "How old are you, Mr. Droom?"

  "I'm as old as Methuselah."

  "Aw, go 'way!"

  "When he was a boy," laughed Elias, enjoying his quip immensely."Miss Cable seems to be very fond of Graydon. That will last fora couple of years and then she'll probably be like two-thirds ofthe rest of 'em. Other men will be paying attention to her and shelooking for admiration everywhere. You'd be surprised to know howmuch of that is going on in Chicago. Women can't seem to be satisfiedwith one husband. They must have another one or two--usually somebodyelse's."

  "You talk like a society man, Mr. Droom." "Well, I've met a fewsociety men--professionally. And women, too, for that matter. Lookout for a sensational divorce case within the next few weeks. It'sbound to come unless things change. Terribly nasty affair."

  "Is Mr. Bansemer interested?" asked Eddie, holding tight to hischair.

  "Oh, no. We don't go in for that sort of thing." "I wonder if Mr.Bansemer knows about the mistake that came near happening to him aweek or two ago. I got hold of it through a boy that works in theUnited States Marshal's office," said Eddie, cold as ice now thathe was making the test. Droom turned upon him quickly.

  "What mistake? What do you mean?" "It would have been a rich jokeon Mr. Bansemer. Seems that some lawyer is likely to be chargedwith blackmail, and they got Mr. Bansemer's name mixed up in itsome way. Of course, nothing came of it, but--I just wondered ifanybody had told him of the close call he'd had."

  Droom stared straight beyond the young liar and was silent for afull minute. Then he deliberately opened the book on his knee andbegan to turn the pages.

  "That WOULD have been a joke on Mr. Bansemer," he said indifferently.

  "I don't think he would have enjoyed it, do you?"

  "No one enjoys jokes from the United States Marshal's office,"said Droom grimly. "By the way, who is the lawyer that really waswanted?"

  "I never heard. I believe it was dropped. The young fellow I knowsaid he couldn't talk about it, so I didn't ask. Say, who was thatswell woman I saw coming out of your office to-day? I was up atMr. Hornbrook's."

  Droom hesitated a moment. He seemed to be weighing everything hesaid.

  "I suspect it was young Bansemer's future mother-in-law," he said."Mrs. David Cable was there this afternoon about three."

  "Gee," laughed Eddie. "Does she need a lawyer?"

  "Mr. Bansemer transacted business for her some time ago. A verysmall matter, if I remember correctly. Here, listen to this. Nowhere's a little incident I found this evening that interests meimmensely. It proves to my mind one of two points I hold in regardto Marshal Ney. Listen," and he read at length from his book, a dry,sepulchral monotone that grated on the ear until it became almostunendurable.

  The little clock on the mantelpiece clanged ten before they laidaside Napoleon and began to talk about something that interestedEddie Deever far more than all else--Elias Droom himself and suchof his experiences as he cared to relate. The rid man told storiesabout the dark sides of New York life, tales of murder, thievery,rascality high and low, and he told them with blood-curdlingdirectness. The Walker wife-murder; the inside facts of the DePugh divorce scandal; the Harvey family's skeleton--all food forthe dime-novel producer. Eddie revelled in these recitals evenwhile he shuddered at the way in which the old man gave them.

  "Ah, this is a wicked old world," said Droom, refilling his pipe andshowing his teeth as he puffed. "That's why I have those picturesof the Madonna on the wall--to keep me from forgetting that thereare beautiful things in the world in spite of its ugliness andhypocrisy. I haven't much---"

  He stopped short and listened intently. The sounds of footstepson the stairs outside came to his ears. They clumped upward, pausedfor a moment down the little hall and then approached Droom'sdoorway. Host and guest looked at the clock instinctively. Eddieheard Droom's breath as it came faster between puffs at his pipe.Then there was a resounding rap at the panel of the door. EddieDeever never forgot the look that swept over the old man's face--thelook of wonder, dread, desperation. It passed in an instant, and hearose unsteadily, undecidedly, to admit the late caller. His longframe seemed to shake like a reed as he stood cautiously insidethe bolted door and called out:

  "Who's there?"

  "Messenger," was the muffled response. Droom hesitated a moment,looking first at Eddie and then toward the window. Slowly he unboltedthe door. A small A. D. T. boy stood beyond.

  "What is it?" almost gasped Elias Droom, drawing the boy into theroom.

  "Mr. Droom? No answer, sir. Sign here." The boy, snow-covered, drewa letter from his pocket and handed it to Droom.

  "Where from?" demanded the old clerk, the paper rattling in hisfingers.

  "I don't know. I'm from Chicago Avenue," said the boy, with properimpudence. He took one look at Droom's face as the man handed theslip back to him and then hurried downstairs, far less impudent atheart than he had been.

  Droom recognised the handwriting on the envelope as James Bansemer's.It was the first time his employer had communicated with him inthis manner. He tore open the envelope and anxiously read the briefmissive.

  "I've got to go to the office," he said, surprise still lingeringin his face. "It's important business--a consultation with--er--withan Eastern client."

  "Gee, it's tough to turn out this kind of a night. I'm going yourway, Mr. Droom. Come on, I'll take the car down with you."

  "I--I won't be ready for some time."

  "Oh, well, I'll say good-night, then."

  Eddie Deever departed, chuckling to himself as he made his wayto the U---- Building, determined to learn what he could of thisunusual summons.

  But Droom was too crafty. Bansemer's letter had asked him to cometo Rector's restaurant and not to the U---- Building. The commandwas imperative.

  Bansemer had been spending the evening at the home of David Cable.

  CHAPTER XII

  JAMES BANSEMER CALLS