Nothing But the Truth

“I saw him place the ring in your pocket. Feel here,” walking over to Bob. The latter felt where the other indicated. “A little vest-pocket camera!” said the monocle-man softly. “I photographed the act – the outstretched hand with the ring in it! – you, unsuspecting, half sprawling over the green felt of the table! your coat tails inviting the ring – Besides, one of my men took the place of that outside-operator and received a certain little article of jewelry that night you came blundering back to Mrs. Ralston’s. We nabbed the outside-operator and – well, he’s told certain things.” With satisfaction. “We have, in short, a clear case.”

Bob held his head. “It’s whirling,” he said. “I’ll get some things straightened out after a little, I suppose.”

“That’s right,” observed the monocle-man.

“There are some things you can’t straighten out,” said Dan in an ugly tone. “This is all very well for you, but what about us?”

Just at that moment there was a flutter of skirts at the door.

Gee-gee and Gid-up came in, the former in a state of great agitation.

“How dared you?” she gasped, going up to the monocle-man and standing with arms akimbo.

“Send you that note, commanding your presence here?” said the monocle-man. “I dared, my dear,” he added slowly, “because I hold the cards.”

“Don’t you ‘dear’ me,” she retorted stormily.

“I wouldn’t, seriously,” he returned. “It might be dangerous. Women like you are dangerous, you know. I fancy our friends here,” glancing toward the commodore and Clarence, “have found that out. But it will be a lesson. ‘We’ll never wander more from our own fireside,’” he hummed.

“Well,” said Gee-gee, shaking her auburn tresses, “those were pretty bold statements of what you could do to me, in that note you sent.”

“They were true, my dear.”

The green eyes flared. Gee-gee was shaking all over. Gid-up looked rather frightened.

“Take it easy,” said the monocle-man.

“I’d like to see you prove what you can do,” she returned. “You say I have framed-up a lot of false-hoods – a tissue of lies – in that affidavit the lawyer at Mrs. Ralston’s drew up. I tell you they’re all true.” Dan looked weak. “Everything I’ve told happened just at I said it did, and he knows it.” Pointing a finger at the commodore.

“I wonder if I ought not to put you in jail now?” said the monocle-man meditatively. “There’s a cell vacant next to the hammer-thrower. You would be congenial spirits.”

“It’s proofs I’m asking, Mr. Detective,” retorted Gee-gee, apparently not greatly abashed by this threat. She was accustomed to hitting back.

“Yes, it’s proofs,” said Gid-up, but in weaker accents.

The monocle-man shook a reproving finger at Gid-up. “You’re in bad company, my dear,” he observed. “You’re out of Gee-gee’s class. You’re just trying to be in it.”

“I don’t want any of your impertinence,” answered Gid-up with a faint imitation of Gee-gee’s manner. “He’s a proper bad one.” Pointing to Clarence who presented a picture of abject misery. “And when I tell all the things he done to me – ”

“But you won’t tell them.”

“I have.” Defiantly. “In that paper the lawyer drew up.”

“But you’re going to sign a little paper I have here, repudiating all that,” he answered her.

“Oh, am I?” Elevating her turned-up nose.

“You are.” Blandly.

“Guess again,” said Gid-up saucily.

“You can’t prove what we told in that affidavit isn’t true,” reaffirmed Gee-gee. Only she and Gid-up could know it was a “frame-up”; they had builded carefully and were sure of their ground. “We know our rights and we’re going to have them. We’re not afraid of you.”

“Then why are you here?” quietly.

“That lawyer at the house said we might as well see you, just to call your bluff. He said, since we had told the truth, we had nothing to fear.”

“I don’t think you’re quite so confident as you seem,” observed the monocle-man. “My note awoke a little uneasiness, or you wouldn’t be here. This young lady,” turning to Gid-up, “suffered a mild case of stage fright, if I am any judge of human nature.”

“Me?” said Gid-up. “I defy you.”

“Here’s the answer,” replied the monocle-man, taking another paper from his pocket.

“What’s that?” said Gee-gee scornfully. “I suppose it’s some lies from him.” Alluding to the commodore. “The lawyer told me to be prepared for them.”

“No; it isn’t that. It’s only a stenographic report of a conversation you and your friend had together in your room, the night you arrived at Mrs. Ralston’s.”

“A stenographic report? Nonsense!” Sharply. Gee-gee remembered all about that conversation. “How could you – ”

“There’s a dictograph in the room you occupied, my dear,” observed the monocle-man.

“A dic – ” Gee-gee seemed to turn green. “Good Gawd!” she said.

It wasn’t very long thereafter that Gee-gee and Gid-up departed.

“Back to the old life!” said Gee-gee wearily. “And just when I thought my ambition to be a star was coming true.”

“Life is sure tough,” observed Gid-up, abandoning her society manner.

“I’m sick of the whole thing. Got a mind to jump in the river.”

“Gas for me!” from poor Gid-up wearily.

“No, you won’t. And I won’t. We’ll just go on. Lord! how long.”

“Anyhow, that detective promised to introduce us to a real Russian grand duke who’s in old New York. Maybe we can get in the papers on that.”

“Perhaps.” More thoughtfully from Gee-gee. “It wasn’t so worse of the detective to promise that, after he’d got us down and walked on us.”

“You must make dukie drink out of your slipper,” suggested Gid-up. “The detective said he was mad after beautiful stage girls. Grand dukes always are.” Hopefully. “And if you do make him do that, it would be heralded from coast to coast.”

“It’s as good as done,” said Gee-gee confidently. “It’ll prove me a great actress, sure.” In a brighter tone.

“I always said you had talent,” remarked Gid-up.

“Cheese it,” retorted Gee-gee elegantly. “Ain’t you the fond flatterer!”

“Anyhow, I’m glad I don’t have to do society talk any more,” said Gid-up, and stuck a piece of gum in her mouth.

“Yes,” said Gee-gee, “my jaws is most broke.”

“Maybe you’d better tighten up your hobble a little for dukie,” suggested Gid-up.

“Have to stand still the rest of my life if I did,” observed Gee-gee, swishing along about six inches a step.

“You could divide it a little.”

“So I could.”

By this time they had forgotten about the river, or taking gas. The duke had already become a real person in their lives and they talked on, devising stunts for his Vivacious Greatness. By this time, too, the monocle-man seemed to them a real benefactor.

Meanwhile the “real benefactor” had been reading from that stenographic report to Dan and the others. The commodore nearly jumped out of his boots for joy.

“Read that again,” he said.

The monocle-man, reading: “‘This ain’t half bad enough. You think up something now, Gee-gee.’

“‘Doping a poor little thing is always good stuff to spring on a jury, Gid-up. And you could make yourself up young with your hair done up in a pigtail, with a cute little baby-blue bow on the end.’

“‘But that sounds old, Gee-gee. You can sure invent something new – ’” etc., etc.

The monocle-man finished reading and laid down the paper. “There you are, gentlemen,” he observed in a lively tone. “The stenographers will swear to that. They were dressed as house-maids, but at night and on certain occasions, they used one of the rooms Mrs. Ralston placed at my disposal as an office. When I came down here I didn’t expect to be involved in a domestic drama. It rather forced itself upon me. It came as part of the day’s work. I overheard your conversation with Miss Dolly that night.” Significantly to Bob. That young gentleman flushed.

“I have taken the liberty of destroying the report of that conversation, I may add. Miss Dolly is charming.” With a smile. “I, also, had a record of your conversation with these three gentlemen” – indicating Dan, Clarence and Dickie – “after they entered your room one night, via the trellis and the window. That conversation introduced me into the domestic drama. I became an actor in it whether I would or not. But for my whispered instructions to one of my assistants in the garden, you three gentlemen would have been arrested.” Dan stared at Clarence in momentary consternation. “You did not need the golf-club because my man removed the dog.”

“It seems,” said Dan effusively to the monocle-man, “you have been our good angel. If any remuneration – ?”

“No,” answered the monocle-man. “What I have done for you was only incidental and my reward was the enjoyment I got out of the affair – in watching how the threads crossed and recrossed, and how they tangled and untangled. It was better than going to a show. It made work a pleasure. Besides, I shall be well rewarded for what I have accomplished in another direction.” Looking toward the cell.

“I tried to get him in England and failed. In France, the story was the same. He is rather a remarkable personality. A born criminal and an actor, as well! Of good family, he wedged his way into society, through the all-round amateur athletic route. He was generally well liked.” Bob thought of Miss Gerald and looked down. He couldn’t help wondering if she would not greatly have preferred his (Bob’s) occupying that cell, instead of the other man who had seemed to interest her so much.

“Now for Mrs. Dan,” observed the commodore, jubilantly waving the stenographic report. “This will bring her to time.”

“And my wife, too!” said Clarence with equal joy.

“I thought I would save you gentlemen some trouble and so have already placed the report in the ladies’ hands,” said the monocle-man affably. “Indeed, they came to me afterward and told me they had been shamefully deceived. Mrs. Dan looked as if she had had a good cry – from joy, no doubt. Mrs. Clarence’s voice was tremulous. Same cause, I am sure. I think you will find them contrite and anxious to make up.”

“This is great,” said Dan.

“Glorious!” observed Clarence.

“Think of it! No public disgrace!”

“No being held up as monsters in the press!”

“It’s too good to be true.” The commodore threw out his arms and advanced toward the monocle-man.

But the latter waved him away. “Save your embraces for your wives,” he observed.

“I love all the world,” said Dan.

“Me, too!” from Clarence.

“I presume I am free to take my departure, gentlemen?” said Bob, rising.

“You are free as the birds of the air for all of me,” answered the monocle-man.

“Hold on one moment,” begged the commodore. “No; I’m not going to detain you forcibly. As a friend I ask you to wait.” Bob paused. “I’m a good fellow,” said Dan effusively, “and I don’t wish the world harm. I don’t want you to go wandering around any more as you are. Why, you’re a regular Frankenstein. You’re an iron automaton that goes about trampling on people. After all I’ve gone through, I have charity toward others. I won’t have you treading on people’s finer sensibilities and smashing connubial peace and comfort all to splinters.”

“But what can I do?” suggested Bob. He meant the three weeks weren’t yet up.

“Here’s what I propose to Clarence and Dickie. I see now you’ll win, anyhow. You’ve got the grit and the nerve. So as long as we have simply got to pay in the end, why not do so at once and so spare others? That’ll be the way I’ll pay him.” Alluding to the monocle-man. “It’s my way of showing my gratitude for what he’s done. And now I think of it, I can’t see that I ought to blame you so much, Bob, for all that has transpired.”

“Oh, you don’t?” With faint irony.

“No; you only did what you had to, and maybe we were a little rough. Forget it.” The commodore extended his hand.

The act melted Bob. He took it. “Good friends, once more!” chirped Dan, and extended an arm to include Clarence. “You’ve won. The money’s fairly yours, Bob. Only as a personal favor, I ask you to be, at once, as you were. Be your old natural self immediately.”

“I’ll pay my share to have him that way again,” said Clarence heartily. “I want to spare the world too. Besides, he’s won all right enough.”

“It’s three weeks or nothing from me,” said Dickie. “You chaps may want to spare the world, but I don’t want to spare him.”

“I’ll pay for Dickie,” replied good old Dan. “And gladly!”

Dickie shrugged. Dan wrote out a check. “Congratulations!” he said. “And for us, too!” Turning to Clarence. “Think of the thousands in alimony it might have cost us!”

“We’ve simply got to call a halt on old Bob,” said Clarence fervently. “Bet’s off! We lose.”

Bob took the check. “I believe I am entitled to it, for I certainly would have stuck it out now. I am sure I wouldn’t do it all over again, though, for ten times the amount. Nevertheless, I thank you.” He shook himself. “Free! Isn’t it great? Will you do something for me?” To the monocle-man.

“Gladly,” was the reply. “I was secretly informed of that wager of yours and I was immensely interested in your little social experiment. You see I make my living by prevarication and subterfuges. And that” – with a laugh – “is more than a man can make by telling the truth. It’s a wicked world. Fraud and humbug are trumps.”

“What I want you to do,” said Bob, ignoring this homily, “is to express my grip to New York. Also, tell Miss Gerald that I’ve gone and kindly thank Mrs Ralston and Miss Gerald for asking me down.”

“Why don’t you thank them yourself?”

“I think they would be more pleased if I complied with the formalities by proxy.”

“Shall I add you had a charming time?”

“You may use your own judgment.”

Bob walked to the door.

“I guess it’s I who am crazy,” said the maniac-doctor, again waking up.

CHAPTER XXIII – MAKING GOOD

Bob sent dad a modest-sized check the next day. “Result of hustling,” he wrote. “Spend freely. There’ll be more coming presently.” Then Bob went down on the narrow road that isn’t straight, but that has a crook in it. He stopped somewhere near the crook, and entering an office greeted a melancholy-looking man who had “bad business” and “country going to pot” written all over his face. The melancholy man was a club acquaintance.

“What’s the most abused and worst thing on the street that isn’t straight?” said Bob debonairly.

“That’s right. Call us names,” replied the melancholy man with a sigh. “Everybody’s doing it.”

“Have you got something so awful people turn their heads away when you speak of it?”

“There’s the Utopian,” observed the other. “Only a buzzard would get near it.”

“Do they call the promoter a thief?”

“They do.”

“And is he crazy?”

“He is. It’s either jail or a lunatic asylum for him.”

Bob handed what was left of the commodore’s check to the melancholy man. “Buy Utopian,” he said.

“All right,” answered the melancholy man listlessly. He was beyond feeling any emotion.

“I believe in Utopian,” observed Bob. “I have here,” touching his forehead, “inside information that it is an excellent little railroad property.”

“Oh, it isn’t a railroad,” said the melancholy man. “It’s – ”

“Don’t tell me what it is,” retorted Bob. “Repeat some of those things the world calls the promoter.”

The melancholy man was obliging.

“Heavens! He must be an awful honest man!” said Bob and started toward the door, where he turned. “Pyramid with the profits.” And Bob walked out.

That afternoon he went to a real-estate man and asked where he could lease a small factory. While at college he had invented a small appliance for automobiles, which he felt sure was good and would commend itself to manufacturers. Bob knew about all there was to know about a car. After he had looked at several old deserted buildings on the outskirts, any one of which might answer his purpose, Bob strolled into a number of automobile agencies near Columbus Square, and showed them his little patent. The men in charge were willing to express an opinion; several appeared interested. Of course, Bob would ultimately have to go to the “higher-ups,” but he wanted first to find out what these practical chaps thought. One of them even asked Bob if he wanted a partner? Bob didn’t. He had all the capital needed, he replied.

He was taking a serious sober view of life now. He felt himself no longer “darn fool Bob,” or careless Bob, or lazy Bob. He might have done something with his little device long ago, but he had forgotten all about it. Its creation had been a passing whim. Bob really had a good head for machinery though, and now he was beginning to feel out his path. He wanted to work hard, too, which was a novel sensation. It felt, also, like a permanent sensation. Meeting several chaps, he refused their invitations to partake of the sparkling, much to their surprise, as heretofore he had been a prince of good fellows. Henceforth, however, he was going to be king of himself.

That night, in the old home, in the old square, Dolly called him up by telephone.

“How could you disappoint me so!” said jolly little pal. “The idea of your just pretending to be a burglar.”

“Me, pretend?” Bob laughed. “I say, that’s good. Didn’t I tell you all along I wasn’t?”

“But why didn’t you make me believe you weren’t?” retorted little pal reproachfully. “To think of your deceiving me like that!”

“Deceive you? That’s good, too. Why, I told you again and again I was just a plain ordinary person. You were just bound to idealize me!”

There was a brief pause. “Are you so disappointed in me, you are going to disown me now?” continued Bob.

“No-a. I’m still your jolly little pal. Only to think though, there never was a chance for those adjoining cells, after all!”

“Well, there seemed a good chance, anyhow.”

“Yes, it was nice and exciting while it lasted.” The temperamental little thing sighed. “It’s awful humdrum up here now.”

Bob didn’t ask any questions about the people up there. “You ought to have fallen in love with the hammer-thrower,” he said. “He was the real thing.”

“I suppose I should have,” she seemed to agree. “Wasn’t I stupid? Never mind. Say something nice.”

“Like you,” said Bob.

“Heaps? I need cheering.”

“Heaps.”

“Much obliged. You’re awfully good. What are you doing this evening?”

“I was sitting by the fire in dad’s old-fashioned den, thinking and dreaming.”

“All alone?”

“Entirely.”

“What were you thinking of?”

“Machinery. And a factory.”

“And will it have a tall chimney that belches smoke?”

“I trust ultimately to attain to the kind of a chimney you refer to. At present, I shall have to content myself with a comparatively insignificant one. I have visions of a chimney four hundred feet high some day.”

“Belching ugly smoke?”

“It won’t look ugly to me. It’ll look blissful.”

The biggest sigh of all quivered from afar. “Another dream shattered! My! but I’m growing up fast. I feel a million years old. Anyhow, I’ll never marry Dickie.”

“Wouldn’t if I were you. He doesn’t fight fair. Before he got through he’d have all your dad’s chimneys, as well as his own, and then he’d put you on an allowance. You’d have to account for every pin and needle you bought.”

“Yes; I know. When I do find the right man I’ll bring him to you and let you pass in judgment. You shall tell me whether I can or can’t.”

“All right – though isn’t that rather a paternal prerogative?”

“Oh, dad always lets me do what I want. You’re the only man that has ever dared oppose me.”

“But suppose I did oppose you in a matter of such importance?”

Miss Dolly thought. “We won’t cross that bridge before we come to it. You said you were thinking and dreaming. I know what you were thinking about. Now, what were you dreaming about all by your lonely, sitting by the fire?”

Bob was glad he didn’t have to blurt out the truth any more. He evaded. “Did I say dreaming?” he asked.

“You did. Was it of some one?”

“Pooh! What nonsense!”

“Oh, it isn’t nonsense to do that.”

“I was only thinking of chimneys and things like that,” returned Bob. That was an out-and-outer. He shuddered to think of the answer he would have had to make a few days ago.

“Never mind,” said the jolly little pal. “You needn’t tell me. There are some things we keep locked up, forever and ever, in the inner sanctums of our hearts, aren’t there?” Sadly. “And we die and they are buried with us. Oh, dear! I’m beginning to feel dreadful. Only jolly little pal is awfully sorry.” For him, she meant. Bob winced. “I hate to think of you sitting there, poor dear, all alone, and – and – ”

“I’m having a bully time – honest,” said Bob. “I really am. I’m planning out my future. I’m going to do something. I’m tired of being nothing. I’ll work right with the workmen at first.”

“And you will be all perspirey and covered with soot?” In horror.

“I’ll be worse than that. I’ll be sweaty and covered with soot,” said Bob practically.

Dolly groaned. “It seems to me as if everything is upside down.”

“No. Downside down. ‘Life is real; life is earnest,’” he quoted, laughing.

“Oh, dear! That solemn sound! I can tell you are terribly determined.” He did not answer. “Well, good-by, great, big, perspirey – I mean sweaty, sooty old pal!”

“Good-by, Dolly. And thank you for calling me up. It did me good to hear little pal’s voice. Wish me luck.”

“I’ll send you a horseshoe to-morrow,” she laughed. And then suddenly, as an afterthought – “By the way, I have a ’fession to make.”

“All right. ’Fess ahead.”

“Well, I don’t suppose I really and truly – deep down, you know – actually ever did quite think you were a regular burglar. I guess it was the dramatic situation that appealed to me. I’ve often thought I had ‘histrionic ability’ and you did make such a big, bold, handsome, darling make-believe burglar to play with, I just couldn’t resist.”

“I understand!” said Bob. “I guess – deep down – I guessed as much.” And rang off.

Bob went back to the fireplace. Was he dreaming now or only thinking? Dolly’s voice had taken him back to Mrs. Ralston’s, and the coals now framed a face. He looked quickly from them, his eyes following the smoke of his pipe. But the smoke now framed the face. Bob half-closed his eyes an instant, then resolutely he laid down his pipe and went to bed. Dad had closed the rather spacious old-fashioned house when he went away, and a momentary feeling of loneliness assailed Bob, as he realized there was no other person in the place, but he fought it down. Work was his incentive now – hard work —

The next day he learned they had lodged the promoter in jail. The big men had gone gunning for him, and, as usual, they got him. They got the “Utopian,” too. They took that because there wasn’t anything else to take. Incidentally, they discredited the broker’s statement that no one but a buzzard would go near it. Or, maybe, some of the big men were buzzards in disguise. Anyhow, they had the Utopian on their hands, and after they had settled with the promoter who had dared cross the trail of the big interests in his operations, they poked their fingers into Utopian and prodded it and examined it more carefully and discovered that with “honest judicial management” and a proper application of more funds that which had been but an odorous prospect might be converted into a “property.” The promoter had taken funds which he shouldn’t so he was out of their way, until he got pardoned.

The Utopian accordingly now began to soar. There were plenty of people who would sniff at it in its new aspect, and take a bite, too. A shoal of speculators wanted to get aboard. That “honest management” was a bait; that “property” probability became a “sure thing.” Big names were juggled in little offices. The usual thing happened – just one of those common occurrences hardly worth describing – only later it would probably be included in a congressional investigation and there would be a few reverberations at Albany. Bob pulled out in about two days.

“How’d you know?” said the broker.

“Fellow feeling. Been called a thief and a crazy man, myself.”

“What you want to buy now? The next rankest thing I know of is – ”

Bob shook his head. “Never again. Good-by forever.”

“Good-by,” said the melancholy man. He thought he would see Bob down there again some day, but he never did. Bob went to a bank and opened an account. He wasn’t exactly rich but he had a nice comfortable feeling. Moreover he expected to build solidly. He leased the factory and then he went to work. Dad came home. He didn’t seem much interested in what Bob was doing. He loafed around and told fish stories. Bob got up about five a.m. but dad didn’t arise until nine. Sometimes he had his breakfast in bed and had his man bring him the newspaper. Bob didn’t have a man, though he soon began to prosper. The device was considered necessary in the trade; it proved practical.