The Riddle of the Yellow Zuri

by Harry Stephen Keeler

  To this glistening black-eyed assemblage, Carson drew out chairs, even going to the other room to obtain a couple extra. Then, as the outer door closed behind the departing stenographer, he repaired back to his own swivel chair. The tall giant with the grey hair did not care to sit, but remained standing either disdainfully or humbly against the wall. Mr. Allenuza was the first to speak.

  “Theese is Mrs. Galioto’s father, Mr. Carsone, Mr. Pietro Rocusso, and theese is her sister, Mrs. Carlos Maggiore. And I theenk you know Mrs. Galioto and Tony?”

  Carson rose, gravely acknowledging the introductions. It was typical of the foreigner, to bring the entire family so that every step in a discussion might be re-discussed in violent discourse in their own tongue.

  “I am very glad you came, Mrs. Galioto,” he said, addressing his words to the shrewd-eyed little woman with the black biscuits of hair on each side of her head. “I particularly wanted to talk to you.” And even as he finished, Mr. Allenuza was translating his words in a rapid barrage of harsh sounds.

  The woman at least smiled. She was the least belligerent-appearing of any of the people in the room, not omitting the huge giant with the knife-shaped bulge in his belt. Carson turned to the lawyer. “While I now talk to Mrs. Galioto, the principal in this case, I would like to have you translate very accurately what I say to her, and give me, if possible, exactly what she says.”

  “Mrs. Galioto has come for her Texas Helium stock certificate,” pronounced Mr. Allenuza abruptly and businesslike, “and does not weesh to discuss anything.”

  “To be sure,” was Carson’s pleasant reply. He smiled reassuringly toward Mrs. Galioto. Then he commenced speaking to her.

  “Mrs. Galioto, you left with me a preferred stock certificate in the Texas Helium Company, number 347, which is quoted on the stock exchange as being worth, today, nine thousand nine hundred and ninety dollars or, roughly, ten thousand dollars. You left it with this office under a misapprehension as to our functions.” He waited till these words were translated. “I understand now, however, that you do not wish, as you did that day, to sell this certificate which I happen to be in a position personally to sell for you to — let us say for purposes of argument — a business acquaintance — saving you thereby brokerage commissions. How about that?”

  Mrs. Galioto addressed a rapid barrage toward Allenuza, who spoke.

  “Mrs. Galioto says that Mr. Galioto came to her in a dream and cautioned her not to sell anything which contained the figures four an’ three an’ seven, and which was colored green. Her fortune-teller in Milwaukee, who has been very adept — you see theese lady here? — theese fortune-teller predicted that theese child would be one of girl twins, which it was, although the other twin died.” The infant in question was now suckling quite openly and frankly from the exposed left breast of Mrs. Maggiore. “Theese fortune-teller, Mr. Carsone, as I think once before I related, told Mrs. Galioto that those deegits are, in conjunction with green, of great potentiality for good luck and prosperity to her. In view of these things, therefore, Mrs. Galioto says she would not actually sell this certeeficate for twenty thousand dollars, if that were offered her.”

  “I see,” Carson nodded. “Well, I shall then wish to tell Mrs. Galioto something that, in spite of dreams and fortune-tellers, may slightly alter her decision. I don’t know.”

  He rose, and passing into the adjoining interior room, removed from its pivots in one rack of swinging framed maps a huge map which evidently showed a cross-section somewhere through the earth, for the mapmaker had finely depicted by various colored parallel ruled lines different strata of the earth. Together with the framed map, Carson brought a piece of white chalk, and two printed bulletins of different types which he had conveniently waiting under a large paper weight consisting of a jagged fragment of glistening ore. With this collection he returned to his swivel chair. He now stood up the huge map on his desk so that all of his visitors could view it, pointing with his pencil as he talked, and allowing a generously sufficient time to elapse between each of his sentences in which Mr. Allenuza could translate. Which that gentleman proceeded to do, and, so Carson hoped devoutly, faithfully.

  “Mrs. Galioto, Mr. Rocusso, Mrs. Maggiore, Tony, and Mr. Allenuza, I have here — if you will consult the English legend on this map — what purports to be a hypothetical cross-section of the earth axially — axially, Mr. Allenuza, not actually! — through the 102nd degree of longitude.” He moved his pencil. “Please note that this cross-section passes through the huge natural gas well of the Patterson Air Products Company of Texas. This company has granted 999-year rights to all of the helium which its gas contains, to the Texas Helium Corporation, in which your stock certificate represents a certain share. In fact, look — it is printed here in parentheses ‘Texas Helium Co., Inc.’ “ He paused. “Quite aside from the intricate financial arrangements, it is this well from which comes all of the helium gas available in the world today, a gas to which balloon fabrics possess the lowest permeability known, and which sells at twenty-four dollars per one thousand cubic feet; it is this well, or the 999-year rights on this well, which give you any dividends on your stock and any increases in the value of that stock.” He waited patiently, while Mr. Allenuza translated all this. He indicated with his pencil. “Please note for yourself the English caption on the map ‘Texas Helium Company, Inc.,’ which tallies exactly with the words on your stock certificate.”

  They all nodded in unison. He now moved his pencil downward. “We do not know the configuration of this gas well below the earth — this is merely a hypothetical picture of it. We could perhaps go to a fortune-teller or something like that — and learn more about it — but no one apparently has done that. You understand so far, Mrs. Galioto?”

  She nodded, after Mr. Allenuza had translated the question.

  “I now call your attention to this printed bulletin which Mr. Allenuza may have and keep, showing the percentages of the gaseous ingredients coming out of this well, up to last week. Let me read them first: Helium .93; Carbon Dioxide .25; Oxygen .54; Methane 56.85; Ethane and heavy hydrocarbons 10.30; Nitrogen 31.13.” He looked toward Mr. Allenuza. “I will ask you, Mr. Allenuza, to explain that these last six ingredients are the gaseous constituents which are removed by a hot charcoal process, called the DeWar process, from this very, very valuable helium. Call either them — or the helium — the by-products; it does not matter.”

  Mr. Allenuza made some sort of involved explanation, holding the bulletin in his hand and reading from it as he spouted his facts forth.

  “I now call your attention, Mrs. Galioto, to this cross-section of the map to my right. This is, I may say, subterranean Mexico — not subterranean Texas any longer; it is about twelve miles across the international line, or some thirty-one miles altogether from this company which we have been discussing. You will note it is all cross-ruled at right angles in pink. Do you see here the large stenciled letters M-E-X-I-C-O? Yes. And as my pencil travels, do you notice this little gas well over here, printed on the map ‘Alvarez Gas Company’? Yes — right here. A small Mexican adobe town is here, called Mesquitonga — the letters are printed in small capitals and no doubt are sufficiently like Italian that you can read them.”

  Mrs. Galioto’s beady black eyes followed Carson’s pencil, as her mind evidently followed the translation her attorney was making with great rapidity. The other three people followed too, with mouths agape, and Mr. Rocusso even forgot to keep his hand on the bulge in his belt.

  “I now wish to call your attention to this printed bulletin, also issued last week, of an analysis made of a number of Mexican gas wells, including the output of the Alvarez Gas Company of Mesquitonga, Mexico. This bureau here, represented by myself, does not ordinarily concern itself with minerals, mines and gas wells lying outside of the domain of the United States, but it does happen to receive all the bulletins published over the entire North American continent, including Canada. I want Mr. Allenuza to take this bulletin with him —
-in fact I want him to keep it together with the one he just read to you from — but before he takes charge of it, I want him to read off the particular analysis that was made, last week, of the gas coming out of this well.” He turned to the lawyer. “Top of the second page, Mr. Allenuza. Listed under Mesquitonga, and marked with blue pencil.”

  Mr. Allenuza turned ponderously to the section indicated, and shrewdly surveying the caption of the marked article as one making absolutely certain he was not aiding some sort of hocus-pocus, cleared his throat and commenced to read off by mistake in English, instead of Sicilian: “Helium .93; Carbon di-di-dioxide .26; Oxygen .53; Me-methane 56.84; Ethane and heavy hy-hydrocarbons 10.31; and Ni — Ni — Nitroglycerine — no, Nitrogen 31.13.” Then, as though suddenly remembering his auditors, he blushed and reread the whole thing again in Sicilian.

  It was the boy Tony who first glimpsed the significance; his shrewd, bright olive-tinted oval face broke into a look of understanding.

  “W’y — w’y it’s — it’s the same gas. All them things in it is th’ same — or nearly th’ same.” He translated his own words to his mother.

  Carson nodded. “You are right, Tony. There is not the chance in the world that it is any gas but this identical gas which comes forth in Texas in the Patterson Air Products Company well. Every ingredient tallies; and all, furthermore, tally within a hundredth of a point during the one week.” He turned to see if Allenuza had gotten this. And Mr. Allenuza was surveying the publication a little troubledly.

  Carson now took up his piece of chalk. “In view of the fact that such a coincidence could never happen in a thousand years — that two separate wells could be spouting identical ingredients in identical proportions, I think we may as well take this chalk and draft out a theoretical picture of what may exist in the bowels of the earth. Look!” He drew a rough connection between the two hypothetical bottoms of these two natural gas reservoirs, consisting of two wavering lines that encompassed considerable of the sub-Texas and sub-Mexico parts of the map, and rubbing the chalk in the space between them chalked the area, as well as the two separate wells, entirely in white. “In other words, ladies and gentlemen,” Carson went on, laying down his chalk, “this is all one and the same well — with one huge opening in Texas, handled efficiently by a completely developed gas plant, and one smaller outlet in Mexico, as yet undeveloped on a really commercial scale.”

  He paused.

  “But how soon, I should like to ask, with Zeppelin traffic constantly on the increase as it is, do you think it will be before capitalists in Mexico develop this valuable opening at Mesquitonga — to get helium for airships, if not for electronic development into neon for neon signs which are found today on every gay white way in the world?” And as he spoke he wondered curiously whether the Gesellschaft Zep, with its own mining engineers in Mexico, had not perhaps already bought up a controlling interest in the Alvarez well, but as he could know nothing definite about that, it was not up to him, he felt, to postulate it. “And if they do, building a small spur road to the Coahuilo and Tamaulapis Railway, which in turn can carry the globular tank cars of helium to the east Mexican coast, then what becomes of the world corner on helium? This Mexican firm can, if it wishes, draw off just as much — or all of it — and being exactly twelve miles to the south of the United States, all the treaties, trade wars, or business agreements in the world cannot stop them or interfere with them.”

  He paused a bare moment to give Allenuza a chance to translate, then went on.

  “On top of what I just said, the Lydon Act permitting export of helium only to foreign companies having a one third United States ownership, will be inoperative, opening a whole world market to the Mexican well.” He laid his pencil down on the desk. He addressed his next words partly to the little woman in black and partly to the assemblage, giving the lawyer opportunity to translate fully between each of his sentences. “Mrs. Galioto, your certificate can never earn more than seven percent profits because it is par today, and because it is preferred stock; your only chance for any big profits out of it lies in its provision that common stock can be awarded as dividends on the preferred. But, Mrs. Galioto — how much will that common stock be worth once it develops that this Texas well — or rather the 999-year helium rights on it — is not the only source of helium gas in the world — but one of two sources, subject at best only to a trade agreement between the two companies, but which trade agreement would probably never be made because it would be against the Mexican interests owing to their freedom from the Lydon Act? And your preferred certificate — what will that be worth? Let us be charitable and say — with only one well opening, as today, ten thousand dollars; with two wells — five thousand dollars.” He paused gravely. “Think about that, please, Mrs. Galioto. It is most serious. It is like a keg of beautiful aged red wine with two open bungholes — and two winebibbers, each sucking from a bunghole, each through a tube of his own.”

  As he stopped, and Allenuza in turn finished translating the end of his long speech, a most violent chattering in Sicilian broke out. Mr. Pietro Rocusso gesticulated with both of his long arms, his huge gold earrings literally shaking in his ears; Mrs. Maggiore talked so energetically that the baby lost its teat and set up a lusty howl; Tony himself talked to his mother, and Mr. Allenuza sat with brows drawn up into a fine crinkled frown, the one thoughtful and least talkative person of them all. At last Mrs. Galioto put a single question to her lawyer.

  “She says,” pronounced that gentleman, “that what you say is very seegnificant. But Galioto in her dream warned her to hold on to the certeeficate. And on top of that — her fortune-teller — she — ”

  Carson turned to Mrs. Galioto. “Mrs. Galioto, you live at 734 Sedgwick Street, do you not, in the district called Little Sicily?” She nodded vehemently, when she had heard the translation. “You own the property, do you not?” She nodded again when she had received the second brief translation. “I was over there last night, Mrs. Galioto, and I noted your house was painted green.” For the third time she nodded.

  “Then,” Carson asked, “how can you feel that Mr. Galioto in your dream is talking of this green stock certificate carrying the number 347, when you live in and own a building with the same figures, just turned about a bit, also colored green, and which is in the way of a huge increase in value on account of the Marshall Field Building Development in that whole district, if not the forthcoming connection of the north side subway with the L-road at Chicago Avenue and Orleans Street — a double development which will triple the appraisement of that property in three years?”

  Even as Mr. Allenuza translated, Mrs. Galioto’s oval face broke into a wreath of smiles at this simple explanation of the portent of her dream. She leaned forward. Her red lips broke into a friendly smile. She laid one slender finger on Carson’s knee. She spoke with great difficulty.

  “You — mucha — wisa man,” she pronounced. “You knowa — de — bus’neeze — and de dreams.” She turned to Allenuza. She spoke now in clear distinct Sicilian, quite unexcited. “Questo amom cavi ninte dea piglare sa edeo mei paga pe la certificato e so prezzo. Edeo ena uno omom scato. Galioto saperva ninte de sto facto de mino e gaso; grocerea era sola cosa che Galioto saperva. Galioto sempi discora sto properta. lo vio vara. Vio 10,000 dollari per questo certificato. Sono prito ca veni ca oggi.”

  Mr. Allenuza turned to Carson and made a resigned gesture with his hands. “Mrs. Galioto says: ‘This man has nothing to gain if he pays me for my stock its market price. Furthermore, he is a very wise man. And Galioto knew nothing about mines and gas wells; groceries was what Galioto knew. Galioto was talking about that property all the time. I see it now. I want the ten thousand dollars for that certificate. I am glad I came here today’.”

  Carson smiled. “I am glad, Mr. Allenuza, to oblige — either way. The certificate is all right as an investment now — and may be for some time — but ultimately its value is going to be complicated greatly by this Mesquitonga, Mexico, gas well.
” And essaying a smile toward the big brigand who flashed back one of his own through two rows of brilliant white teeth, undiminished by his years, Carson drew over his check-book and wrote out a check with all the sedate calmness he could command. Signing it at last, he blotted the whole thing.

  “The stock is quoted still this morning at 99.9,” he declared. “And this check is for $10,033, as I am simply allowing the stock to figure at ten thousand dollars even, and the 5½ months’ accrued dividends to date from last dividend date, at seven per cent, and amounting to $32.08, I am calling thirty-three dollars in round figures. Incidentally, as I think I explained, Mrs. Galioto is not being subjected here to brokerage charges as she would be if she marketed it elsewhere.” He looked up at his calendar on the wall. “I have dated the check tomorrow morning, because the banks are all closed this afternoon due to Annual Bank Association Meeting.”

  He handed it to Mrs. Galioto, who glanced shrewdly at its figures, and who then handed it to her lawyer.

  “I suggest you keep my receipt,” said Carson to the latter, “till my check goes through the clearing house, as the check itself is a counter-receipt. I have marked it: ‘In full, including accrued dividends, for purchase of Preferred Stock Certificate No. 347, Texas Helium Gas Co., Incorporated.’ “

  Mr. Allenuza noted, nodding, and folded up the salmon-colored slip of paper. He gave a reassuring sentence to Mrs. Galioto. With a great scraping of chair legs on floor, the Galioto family arose as by one single automatic movement. Mrs. Galioto thrust out her olive-tinted slender hand. “Thanks you, Meester — Carsone. I — am very — happee.”