On With Torchy

by Sewell Ford

  CHAPTER II

  PULLING A SLEUTH STUNT

  Trust Piddie for workin' up wild suspicions. Say, he can't find astray sheet of scribblin' paper on the floor without pouncin' sleuthyon it and tryin' to puzzle out the hidden meanin'.

  So when I get the buzzer call to Old Hickory's private office and findshim and the main stem waitin' in solemn conclave there, I guesses rightoff that Piddie's dug up a new one that he hopes to nail me with. Justnow he's holdin' a little bunch of wilted field flowers in one hand,and as I range up by the desk he shoots over the accusin' glance.

  "Boy," says he, "do you know anything about these?"

  "Why, sure," says I. "They're pickled pigs' feet, ain't they?"

  "No impudence, now!" says he. "Where did they come from?"

  "Off'm Grant's Tomb, if I must guess," says I. "Anyway, I wouldn'tthink they was picked in the Subway."

  And at this Old Hickory sniffs impatient. "That is quite enough comicdiversion, young man!" he puts in. "Do you or don't you know anythingabout how those things happened to get on my desk?"

  "Me?" says I. "Why, I never saw 'em before! What's the dope?"

  "Huh!" he grunts. "I didn't think this was any of your nonsense: tootame. And I suppose you might as well know what's afoot. Tell him,Mr. Piddie."

  Did you ever see a pinhead but what just dotes on springin' asensation? Piddie fairly gloats over unloadin' it. "This," says he,holdin' up the wilted bunch, "is the unaccountable. For the fourthtime flowers of this description have been mysteriously left on Mr.Ellins' desk. It is not done after hours, or during the night; but inbroad day, sometimes when Mr. Ellins is sitting just where he is now,and by a hand unseen. Watch has been kept, yet no one has beendetected; and, as you know, only a few persons have free access here.Still the thing continues. At regular periods these absurd bouquetsappear on this desk, seemingly from nowhere at all. Hence thisinquiry."

  I'd heard Piddie spout a good many times before, but never quite soeloquent, and I expect I was gawpin' at him some dazed and admirin'.

  "Well," says Old Hickory, squintin' sharp at me from under his bushyeyebrows, "what have you to offer?"

  "It's by me," says I, shruggin' my shoulders.

  "Oh, come now!" he goes on. "With that high tension brain of yours,surely you can advance some idea."

  "Why," says I, "offhand I should say that some of them mushy ladytypists out there might be smugglin' in floral tributes to you, Sir."

  Old Hickory grins sarcastic. "Without going into the question ofmotive," says he, "that suggestion may be worth considering. What say,Mr. Piddie?"

  "It might be that Miss Smicks," says Piddie. "She's quite sentimental,Sir, and I've thought at times she----"

  "Stop!" roars Old Hickory, almost workin' up a blush. "Mr. Piddie, Iam a fat, cross-grained old man, about as attractive personally as ahippopotamus. Great stuttering tadpoles! Can't you think of anythingbut sappy romance? More likely someone wants a raise."

  "Very true, Sir; I hadn't thought of that," chimes in Piddie. "Shallwe call them all in, one at a time, Sir, and----"

  "And what?" snaps Old Hickory. "Think I'm going to ask all those youngwomen if they've been leaving flowers on my desk?"

  "Couldn't you fake up some job for each one," says I, "and when theycame in be wearin' the flowers conspicuous, and watch if they----"

  "Bah!" breaks in Old Hickory. "What driveling tommyrot! Besides, Idon't believe any of them had a hand in this. How could they? Why, Itell you, there wasn't a soul in this room between noon and twelveforty-five to-day; and yet, with me facing that door, these thingsappear right at my elbow. It--it's getting on my nerves, and, by theseven sizzling sisters, I want to know what it all means!"

  "We could have in the detectives," suggests Piddie.

  "If it was a bomb or an infernal machine, I might," says Mr. Ellinsscornful; "but to trace a few dad-blistered flowers--no, thank you!It's foolish enough as it stands."

  "But there is something behind all this, I'm sure," insists Piddie,"and if you will allow me to do it, I shall send at once for Dr.Rudolph Bingstetter."

  "Who's he?" demands Old Hickory.

  "A distinguished scientist who is a friend and neighbor of mine," saysPiddie, swellin' up important. "He was formerly a dentist, I believe;but now he devotes himself to research and literature. He writesmagazine articles on psychological phenomena, crime mysteries, and soon. Dr. Bingstetter has a wonderful mind, and is often called on tounravel baffling cases. It was only a few months ago that hesuccessfully investigated a haunted house out our way and found----"

  "But I'm not accusing ghosts of this," says Old Hickory.

  "Of course not, Sir," says Piddie; "but I'm sure Dr. Bingstetter couldfind out just how those flowers come here. He's an extremely brilliantman, Sir, and I'm quite positive he could----"

  "Well, well, send for him, then," says Old Hickory. "Only see that youkeep still about it outside there, both of you. I don't care to havethe whole office force chattering and snickering over this affair.Understand?"

  You bet we did; for when the boss gets real peevish about anything it'snot safe to get your signals mixed! I stands guard on the 'phone boothwhile Piddie was sendin' the message, and for once we plots awaytogether real chummy.

  "He's coming right over this afternoon," whispers Piddie, as he slidesout of the booth. "You're to take him directly into Mr. Ellins'office,--a large, impressive looking man, you know, with a full roundface and wearing eye-glasses."

  Piddie forgets to mention the shiny frock coat and the forty-four-inchwaist line; but for all that I spots him the minute he hits the brassgate, which he does about ten minutes before closin' time.

  "Dr. Bingstetter?" says I cautious.

  "I am he," is the answer.

  "S-s-s-s-sh!" says I, puttin' a forefinger to my lips warnin'.

  "S-s-s-s-sh!" echoes the Doc, tiptoein' through the gate.

  Then up comes Piddie, walkin' on his toes too, and the three of us doesa footpad sneak into Old Hickory's office. There wa'n't any wild callfor me to stay as I knows of; but as long as no one threw me out Ithought I'd stick around.

  I must say too the Doc looked and acted the part. First off he sitsthere blinkin' wise behind his glasses, and not a sign on his big,heavy face as he listens to all Piddie and Mr. Ellins can tell himabout the case. Also when he starts askin' questions on his own hookhe makes a noise like a mighty intellect changin' gears.

  "M-m-m-m!" says he, pursin' up his lips and studyin' the bouquetthoughtful. "Six ox-eyed daisies, four sprays of goldenrod, and threemarshmallow blooms,--thirteen in all. And this is the fourth bunch.Now, the others, Mr. Ellins, they were not precisely like this one,were they?"

  "Blessed if I know!" says Old Hickory. "No, come to think of it, theywere all different."

  "Ah, I thought so!" says the Doc, sort of suckin' in his breathsatisfied. "Now, just what flowers did the first one contain, I shouldlike to know."

  "Why, hang it all, man, I can't remember!" says Old Hickory. "I threwthe things into the waste basket."

  "Ah, that was careless, very careless," says the Doc. "It would havehelped. One ought to cultivate, Mr. Ellins, the habit of accuratelyobserving small details. However, we shall see what can be done withthis," and once more he puckers his lips, furrows up his noble brow,and gazes steady at floral exhibit No. 4, turnin' it round slow betweenhis fat fingers and almost goin' into a trance over it.

  "Hadn't you better take a look around the offices," suggests OldHickory, "examine the doors, and so on?"

  "No, no!" says Bingstetter, wavin' away the interruption. "No bypaths.The trained mind rejects everything contributory, subordinate. Itrefuses to be led off into a maze of unsupported conjecture. It seeksonly the vital, primogenitive fact, the hidden truth at the heart ofthings. And that is all here--here!"

  Piddie leans forward for another look at the flowers, and wags his headsolemn, I edges around for a closer view myself, and Old
Hickory starespuzzled.

  "You don't mean to say," says he, "that just by gazing at a few flowersyou can----"

  "S-s-s-sh!" breaks in the Doc, holdin' up a warnin' hand. "It iscoming. I am working outward from the primal fact toward theobjective. It is evolving, taking on definite proportions, assumingshape."

  "Well, what's the result?" demands the boss, hitchin' restless in hischair.

  "Patience, my dear Sir, patience," says the Doc soothin'. "Theintrodeductive method cannot be hurried. It is an exact process,requiring utmost concentration, until in the fullness of the moment----Ah, I have it!"

  "Eh?" says Old Hickory.

  "One moment," says the Doc. "A trifling detail is still missing,--theday of the week. To-day is Wednesday, is it not? Now, on what day oflast week did you receive a--er--similar token?"

  Old Hickory finally reckons up that it must have been last Wednesday.

  "And the week before?" goes on the Doc. "The bunch of flowers appearedthen on Wednesday, did it not?"

  Yes, he was pretty sure it did.

  "Ah!" says Bingstetter, settlin' back in his chair like it was allover, "then the cumulative character is established. And such exactrecurrence cannot be due to chance. No, it has all been nicelycalculated, carried out with relentless precision. Four Wednesdays,four floral threats!"

  "Threats?" says Mr. Ellins, sittin' up prompt.

  "You failed to read them," says the Doc. "That is what comes ofneglecting minor details. But fortunately I came in time to decipherthis one. Observe the fateful number,--thirteen. Note the colorshere,--brown, golden, pink. The pink of the mallow means youth, thegoldenrod stands for hoarded wealth, the brown for age. And all arebound together by wire grass, which is the tightening snare. Amenacing missive! There will come another on Wednesday next."

  "Think so?" says Old Hickory.

  "I am positive," says the Doc. "One more. We will allude to it forthe present, if you choose, as the fifth bouquet. And this fifth tokenwill be red, blood red! Mr. Ellins, you are a marked man!"

  "The blazes you say!" snorts Old Hickory. "Well, it won't be the firsttime. Who's after me now, though?"

  "Five desperate men," says the Doc, countin' 'em off on his fingers."Four have given evidence of their subtle daring. The fifth is yet toappear. He will come on Wednesday next, and then--he will find thathis coming has been anticipated. I shall be here in person. Now, letme see--there is a room connecting with this? Ah, very well. Havethree policemen in readiness there. I think it can be arranged so thatour man will walk in among them of his own accord. That is all. Giveyourself no uneasiness, Mr. Ellins. For a week you will beundisturbed. Until then, Sir, au revoir."

  With that he bows dignified and motions Piddie to lead the way out. Islides out too, leavin' Old Hickory sittin' there starin' sort ofpuzzled and worried at the wall. And, honest, whether you took anystock in the Doc's yellow forecast or not, it listens kind of creepy.Course, with him usin' all that highbrow language, I couldn't exactlyfollow how he gets to it; but there's no denyin' that it sounds mightyconvincin'.

  And yet--well, I can't say just what there was about Bingstetter thatgot me leery; but somehow he reminds me of a street faker or a museumlecturer. And it does seem sort of fishy that, just by gazin' at abunch of flowers, he could dope out all this wild tale about fivedesp'rate men. Still, there was no gettin' away from the fact that hehad hit it right about the bouquets appearin' reg'lar every Wednesday.That must mean something. But why Wednesdays? Now, what was therethat happens on Wednesday that don't----

  Say, you know how you'll get a fool hunch sometimes, that'll seem sucha nutty proposition first off that you'll almost laugh at yourself forhavin' it; and yet how it'll rattle around in your bean persistent,until you quit tryin' to get rid of it? Well, this one of mine strikesme about as I'm snugglin' down into the hay that night, and there wasno gettin' away from it for hours.

  I expect I did tear off a few chunks of slumber between times; but Iwas wide awake long before my regular hour for rollin' out, and aftermakin' three or four stabs at a second nap I gives it up, slips downfor an early breakfast, and before eight A.M. I'm down in the basementof the Corrugated Buildin' interviewin' the assistant superintendent inhis little coop of an office. I comes out whistlin' and lookin' wise.And that night after I'd made a trip over to Long Island across theQueensboro Bridge I looks wiser still. Nothin' to do until nextWednesday.

  And when it comes it sure opens up like it's goin' to be a big day, allright! At first Old Hickory announces that he ain't goin' to have anycops campin' around in the directors' room. It was all blitheringnonsense! Hadn't he lived through all sorts of warnin's before? Andhe'd be eternally blim-scuttled if he was goin' to get cold feet over afew faded flowers!

  There was Piddie, though, with his say. His idea is to have thereserves from two precincts scattered all over the shop, and he lugsaround such a serious face and talks so panicky that at last the bosscompromises on havin' two of the buildin' specials detailed for thejob. We smuggles 'em into the big room at eleven o'clock, and tells'em to lay low until they gets the word. Next comes Bingstetter,blinkin' mysterious, and has himself concealed behind a screen in theprivate office. By that time Old Hickory is almost as nervous asanybody.

  "Fine state of affairs, things are at now," he growls, "when a manisn't safe unless he has a bodyguard! That's what comes of all thispolitical agitation!"

  "Have no fear," says the Doc; "you will not receive the fifth bouquet.Boy, leave that door into the next room slightly ajar. He will try toescape that way."

  "Ajar she is," says I, proppin' it open with a 'phone directory.

  "'Tis well," says the Doc. "Now leave us."

  I was goin' to, anyway; for at exactly noon I had a date somewhereelse. There was a window openin' off the bondroom that was screened bya pile of cases, and out from that was an iron fire escape runnin'along the whole court side on our floor. I'd picked that window out asbein' a good place to scout from. And I couldn't have been betterplaced; for I saw just who I was expectin' the minute he heaves insight. I'd like to have had one glimpse, though, of Old Hickory andthe Doc and Piddie while they was watchin' and listenin' and holdin'their breath inside there. But I'm near enough when the time comes, tohear that chorus of gasps that's let loose at twelve-twenty-six exact.

  "Ha!" says the Doc. "As I told you--a red rose!"

  "Well, I'll be slam-whizzled!" explodes Old Hickory.

  "But--but where did it come from?" pants Piddie. "Who--who couldhave----"

  And that's just when little Willie, after creepin' cautious along thefire escape, gives his unsuspectin' victim the snappy elbow tackle frombehind and shoves him into view.

  "Here's your desperado!" says I, givin' my man the persuadin' knee inthe small of his back. "Ah, scramble in there, Old Top! You ain'tgoin' to be hurt. In with you now!"

  "Look out!" squeals Piddie. "Police, police!"

  "Ah, can that!" I sings out, helpin' my prisoner through the window andfollowin' after. "Police nothin'! Shoo 'em back, will you? He's asharmless as a kitten."

  "Torchy," calls Old Hickory, recoverin' his nerve a little, "what isthe meaning of this, and who have you there?"

  "This," says I, straightenin' my man up with a shoulder slap, "is thebearer of the fifth bouquet--also the fourth, and the third, and so on.This is Mr. Cubbins of the Consolidated Window Cleanin' Company. Ain'tthat right, eh, old sport?"

  "'Enery Cubbins, Sir," says he, scrapin' his foot polite and jerkin'off his old cap.

  "And was it you who just threw this thing on my desk?" demands OldHickory, pointin' to the red rose.

  "Meanin' no 'arm at all, Sir, no 'arm at all," says Cubbins.

  "And do I understand that you brought those other flowers in the sameway?" goes on Mr. Ellins.

  "Not thinkin' you'd mind, Sir," says Cubbins; "but if there's hennyhoffense given, I asks pardon, Sir."

  And there couldn't be any mistakin' t
he genuine tremble in that weak,pipin' voice, or the meek look in them watery old eyes. For Cubbins ismore or less of a human wreck, when you come to size him up close,--athin, bent-shouldered, faded lookin' old party, with wispy, whitishhair, a peaked red nose, and a peculiar, whimsical quirk to his mouthcorners. Old Hickory looks him over curious for a minute or so.

  "Huh!" he grunts at last. "So you're the one, eh? But why theblue-belted blazes did you do it?"

  All Cubbins does, though, is to finger his cap bashful.

  "Well, Torchy," says Mr. Ellins, "you seem to be running this show.Perhaps you'll tell us."

  "That's further'n I've got," says I. "You see, when I traced thisfloral tribute business down to a window washer, I----"

  "In the name of all that's brilliant," breaks in Old Hickory, "how didyou ever do that?"'

  "Why, I got to thinkin' about it," says I, "and it struck me that wehad our glass cleaned every Wednesday, and if there was no way ofanyone smugglin' flowers in through the doors, the windows was allthere was left, wa'n't it? Also who's most likely to be monkeyin'around outside, fifteen stories up, but a window washer?"

  "Ha!" says Old Hickory through his teeth. "And did you do that by theintrodeductive process, may I ask?"

  "No such bunk as that," says I. "Just used my bean, that's all. ThenI got Mac, the assistant buildin' super, to put me wise as to who hadthe windows on our floor, and by throwin' a bluff over the 'phone Imade the Consolidated people locate Mr. Cubbins for me. Found himputterin' round in his garden over in Astoria, and pumped more or lessout of him; but when it come to gettin' him to explain why it was he'dpicked you out, Mr. Ellins, as a mark for his bouquets, I fell downcomplete. Mr. Cubbins is English, as maybe you noticed by his talk,and he used to be a house painter before his health got so bad. Now helives with his son-in-law, who tells me that the old gent----"

  "'E's a bit of a liar, my son-in-law is," pipes up Cubbins; "a ballySocialist, Sir, and I'm ashymed to s'y 'as 'ow 'e's fond of abusin' 'isbetters. Thet's 'ow it all come abaht, Sir. Alw'ys tykin' on over therich, 'e is; and 'e's most fond of s'yin' wrong things abaht youspecial, Sir; callin' you a bloodsucking predatory person, Sir, andhimpolite nimes like thet. 'Ah, stow thet, Jimmy!!' says I. 'Allbloomin' lies, they are. There ayn't a finer man lives than Mr.Ellins,' says I. ''Ow do you know?' says 'e. ''Ow?' says I. 'Don't Iwash 'is hoffice windows?' But 'e keeps at it of evenin's, s'yin' as'ow you do this and that, an' 'e fair talks me down, Jimmy does. But Iknow w'at I knows; so to relieve my feelin's a bit I've been bringin'you the flowers on the sly, Sir; meanin', as I says before, no 'arm atall, Sir."

  "Well, I'll be dashed!" says Old Hickory, squintin' at Cubbinshumorous. "So you think I'm a good man, eh?"

  "I'm quite sure of it, Sir," says he. "As I was tellin' Jimmy onlylast night, 'W'y, at 'ome 'e'd be a Lord!' And so you would, Sir.But, as I sees it, you're just as much 'ere, Sir. You build things up,and keep things goin',--big things, such as the likes of me and Jimmymykes our livin' from. And it ayn't just your money mykes you a gryteman; it's your brains and your big 'eart. I know w'at I knows, Sir,an' I 'opes as 'ow you'll tyke no hoffense at the flowers, Sir."

  "Not a bit, Cubbins," says Old Hickory, smilin' grim. "In fact, that'sa first rate idea of yours. We ought to have some sort of flowers hereall the time. Got many left in your garden, have you, Cubbins?"

  "Plenty, Sir," says Cubbins. "The roses'll be gone soon now, Sir; butthere's golden glow, and hasters comin' on, and zinnias, and----"

  "Then you're engaged, Cubbins," says Old Hickory, "to supply the officewith fresh ones every day. When yours give out we'll have to buy some,I suppose. And you'll give up this window cleaning job at once. It'stoo dangerous. I can't afford to have the only man in the UnitedStates who holds a good opinion of me risking his neck like that."

  "Thankee kindly, Sir," says Cubbins, beamin' grateful. "And we'll seew'at Jimmy 'as to s'y to that, so we will!"

  "Report that in full," says Old Hickory. "And, Mr. Piddie, see thatMr. Cubbins' name goes on the payroll from today. But, by the way,where is your distinguished friend, the scientific investigator?"

  "Why--er--why----" says Piddie, flushin' up and swallowin' hard, "Dr.Bingstetter left a moment ago."

  "Did, eh?" grunts Old Hickory. "He should have stayed awhile andallowed Torchy to give him a few pointers on evolving things fromprimal facts."

  "Ye-e-e-es, Sir," says Piddie, his face all tinted up lovely.

  Which winds up, as you might say, the Mystery of the Fifth Bouquet.But, believe me, there ain't any tamer party around the shop these daysthan this same J. Hemmingway Piddie. And if the old habits get tocroppin' out any time, all I got to do is shut one eye, put my fingerto my lips, and whisper easy, "Ah, go tell that to Doc Bungstarter!"That gets him behavin'.

  And Cubbins, why--he's blossomed out in a new fall suit, and he stopsat the desk every few days to tell me how he put it all over Jimmy thenight before. So that was some stroke, what?