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Show I Broadway Jones I FROM THE PLAY OF GEORGE M. COHAN BY EDWARD2MARSHALL M (Copyright, 1913, by C. W. Dillingham Co.) H (Continued from last week.) Wm'- "I started looking for a 'boy-want- HBf ed' sign. It sounds funny, but it is B" a fact. My intentions were the best. B in all the world. But I got to think- H ing of something else, after I had H walked a block or two, and where do HI you suppose I was when I woke up? Hl. fin Delmonico's, eating breakfast! B'j Turned in there out of force of habit. B "I made a dozen attempts to do Hf. the right thing. I cut out automo- Wmtt biles, and rode in street cars for three Bjl days; I went to an opening night at Kf a theatre and sat in tho gallery; I bought a pair of ready-made shoes; I ate meals at a forty-cent table d' bote and smoked five-cent cigars practicing, just practicing, trying to get used to it. "But I couldn't. That was all I simply sim-ply couldn't! All my good resolutions went to smash every time I took a look at Broadway. I knew my credit was good; the things I wanted were there; I could have them; so well. I took them, that was all!" "And now," said Wallace, who had sat, at first Incredulous, and, 1 ter apellbound, during the recital, "you are fifty thousand dollars in debt!" "I don't know the exact amount, but that's a fairly good guess." "You've been pretty quiet about It. It hasn't seemed to orry you much!" "Hasn't worried me?" Broadway's voice was bitter. "Well, I dont mind telling you that I have just come out of the first sound sleep I've had in weeks. I'll betI walked to Chicago and back every night the first month I was broke." "I don't ur lerstand?" "I mean if you had measured up my carpet by tho mile. I thought so much and worried so much that I didn't dare trust myself alone. I had the weirdest weird-est ideas; I did the craziest things. Do you know that I belong to the Salva- ' tion Army?" "What!" "On the level. I went to Newark and joined one night. "What was the idea?" "I thought it might help me forget my troubles. I played tho bass drum for two nights and couldn't stand it ony longer. Er-rhave you ever been in Newark?" "I've been through there on the train." "That's bad enough. GueBS what I suffered! I got off the train! Oh, you can't realize what I've been through Bob! I've made a bluff and pretended to be happy all the time; but, believe me, old pal, there have been times when I've started for the Brooklyn bridge and I won't toll you about n bottle of poison and a gun full of lea which I considered using. I didn't care about the money I'd spent; what worried wor-ried me was that running in debt, day after day, with no chance of repaying." repay-ing." "But you kept on accepting credit." "And it was wrong dead wrong! But well, I guess it must be in my blood. I couldn't help it." "How about your uncle?" Broadway laughed, a cackling, scornful scorn-ful laugh. "He's a rich man. Have you tried him?" "Yes; tried him and found him guilty. I wrote and told him I was short of ready cash, after I had spent the pittance that he paid me for my interest in the Jones' gum. I asked him if he wouldn't lend me, say, ten thousand dollars." "Did he answer?" "Sure, he answered. Sent me a package pack-age of the gum and the advice: 'Chew this and forget your troubles.' He's in Europe now. He's worth a million, if he's worth a nickel, and ho bought me out for practically nothing!" "Stingy? ' "Stingy? He's so mean that every time he's asked to have a drink he takes a cigar and then saves up the cigars, puts them in old boxes, and gives them away for Christmas presents." pres-ents." "Where have you been getting enough for tips and pocket money?" "I sold that big French car I said was in dead storage. And do you remember re-member that 1 said I'd lost a lot of jewelry? I hadn't. I had pawned it. How's my work, eh?" "You're a wonder! Ive got to hand it to you. But why didn't you confide in me long ago?" "I didn't have enough courage to confide in anyone. I could only keep on hoping that same miracle would happen. I've thought of nothing except ex-cept money and how to get it. "And, Bob, last night, at that banquet ban-quet table, I sat looking at Mrs. Gerard, Ge-rard, thinking of her millions and wondering won-dering what she'd say to me if I should tell my story, trying to pluck up nerve enough to take her into my confidence and see if Bhe wouldn't help. That's how it started. I didn't realize what I was doing; but I must have been staring at her for ten minutes when she called a waiter who, presently, handed me a note." "What did it say? Was it from her?" "Yes, and it said: 'Why do you stare at me so?'" "Did you answer it?" "Yes. "What did you say?" "Oh, I couldn't help it I was desperate. des-perate. I said 'Because I love you!' " "And she answered?" "Yes; 'I lovo you, too.' " "And you rote?" " 'Not as much as I love you.' We had quite a correspondence. Seven or eight notes each way." 'Who sent the last one?" "She did, and it said: 'Will you marry me?' " "She really proposed to you?" "On the level, and I didn't say a thing. The letter carrier lost his job right there. For fear she'd change her mind before the next mail arrived I leaned across the table and yelled: Yes!'" "I'd gone, you know. Exactly what then happened?" Wallace asked. "She fainted; general excitement; smelling salts; she slowly came back to her senses. Then the usual speech: 'Where am I?' That was my cue of course although it hurt! Embrace, kiss, announcement to the dinner party; par-ty; wild applause. Then somebody ordered twenty caBes of wine. "And the next thing I remember is old Rankin calling me when you came hero today. What do you think of all of it?" "It's terrible! You can't afford to let it go any further." "I can't afford to do anything, without with-out signing a tab for it," said Broadway Broad-way ruefully. "You can do something. Haven't you any 'get up and go?' " "That seems to be all that is left for me to 'get up and go' as far as possible pos-sible unless I marry her. ' - "If you'd go to work you'd have the makings of a business man." "If I went to work I wouldn't have the makings of a cigarette." "How do you know? You naven't tried. I'll get you a Job." "Where?" "With my firm, on my recommendation.' recommenda-tion.' "You'd lose your reputation." "I'll see the guvnor tomorrow. I can get you, probably, five thousand a year to start with." "Five thousand a year? How could I stay here in New York on that? I pay more for this apartment! I owe ten times that much right now!" "I've got twenty thousand dollars of my own. I'll lend you that." "I'd never be able to pay it back." "That doesn't make any difference." "Yes, it does,' said Broadway stubbornly. stub-bornly. "Even though you loaned me enough to pay up all I owe, I'd owe you, wouldn't I? What's the odds whether I'm in debt to you or to the other fellow? I'd never get even with the world that way." "But you mustn't marry her; it Isn't right." "How do you mean?' "Would you do anything so low, and so contemptible, as to marry a woman deliberately for her money?" Broadway shrank a little, then rose in self-defense. "Who says I'm marrying marry-ing her for her money?" "You know you don't love her." Broadway answered hotly. He felt that he must answer hotly. It was the only thing remaining for him. "I don't know anything of the kind! Now, you see here; suppose you were in trouble. Wouldn't you love anyone any-one who'd come along and help you out of It? He sighed. "Besides, it's too late now. Tho engagement's bei announced." Wallace was intensely Btubborn. Ho would not have this thing. "Engagements "Engage-ments are broken every day in tho week," he argued earnestly. Broadway made a gesture of dissent. dis-sent. "Now, you leave it all to me," said Wallace soothingly. "I'll have a talk with Mrs. Gerard, and I'll guarantee to prove to her that it's all an utter impossibility. You needn't enter into 11 at all I'll take the whole thing on my shoulders, and " Broadway shook his head emphatically, emphatic-ally, although regretfully. "No; there's no use, Bob. I told you I wouldn't listen lis-ten to any argument against it. My mind is quite made up, and that's all there is to it." He pulled a yellowback yellow-back out of his pocket. "See this? A hundred dollars. That's my bank roll." Wallace went to him with friendly warning. "You'll lose every friend you ever had in all the world!" "No; I won't; people with money never lose their friends." "I know one you'll lose," said Wallace Wal-lace gravely. "You?" "Yes; unless you tell me within the next 24 hours that you've reconsidered reconsid-ered all this rot, and that you're going to fight things out the way a real man should, I'll never speak to you again!" "Bob!" Broadway actually paled. "That goes; is it getting me anything any-thing this giving you advice? Will it put a dollar in or out of my pocket whether you marry that old woman or not? You're nothing to me except a friend and a pal; but I don't want to see you do something you'll regret for all the balance of your life. I'm sorry you're in trouble, and there isn't anything any-thing I won't do to help you. I'll go the limit in everything I've got. But, if you don't give up all idea of that marriage, never expect the friendship of a man who has any decency or self-respect. self-respect. 'That's all I've got to say. Now, I'll be going." CHAPTER VI. Broadway hurried to the angry and disgusted man and put his hand upon his arm. He was rather badly funked by this uncompromising attitude. "Wait a minute, Bob," he urged. 'Don't go off like that. That was an awful thing you just said to me I I had a wild night. Give mo a chance to think." "All right," said Wallace, not very graciously. 'Go ahead think! It's about time you began to think." He sank into a chair, his gloomy face regarding Broadway with small favor, his angry fingers tapping on a table top. Broadway was very nervous. Realization Reali-zation was becoming vivid of the fact that he had not been wholly admirable m his general course. "Don't you suppose I know it's a shabby thing to do?" he urged. "But, great Scott! look at the fix I'm in!" Wallace made a gesture of negation. It was clear that he refused to gi int that anything could excuse his friend's course with tho widow. "You're not sore at me, Bob, aro H you?" Broadway pleaded. H "I've said my say. You've heard my H opinion." r'H "Do you think everyone will feel H that way about it?" M "Of course." H Broadway waB distroBsed beyond his feeble power of explanation. Pacing up and down, ho moaned: M "If it wasn't for those debts! If it M wasn't for tho bills I owe!" M "You don't know tho exact M amount?" H "No." H "Why haven't you added them up?" M "I haven't had time. I've been too M busy." H "Doing what?" M "Now, don't givo mo the third de- M gree, please! Look here! I'm so norv- ous that I'm trembling like a loaf." fl "Where aro those bills?" M "In the little room, In my desk." M "Would you mind if I looked them M over?" H "No; I wish you would. You will 'H do that, Bob?' He was as eager as if M examination of them by his business- headed friend would make each one tH receipted. "But, say, Bob, suppose I jH take your advice and call this thing j off. What am I going: to say to Mrs. M Gerard?" H "You won't have to say anything. ,M I'll handle her." jH "Well, what would you say to her?" M "Will you please leavo that to me? M Go over there and sit down. Do some M more thinking. You've got many a M think coming to you, young fellow! I'm going to see how much you owe M the world." M And Broadway did exactly as he or- H dered, looking after him almost as a H child might after some one had as- M sumed full charge of tangled, juvenile H aifairs. B Suddenly he realized that some out- H standing bills would not bo among tho H mass which Wallace was examining. H Ho would try to get them in. He ,1 wished to know the worst, now that H he was at it. Ho went over to the H telephone and called up a certain fa- iH mous restaurant. After ho had told H the manager to make out his bill for H tho previous evening's entertainment jH and let him know the total, he sat H waiting, with the receiver glued tight H to one ear, and, when Uankin entered, called him to him. "You'd better look around for another an-other job, Rankin." Tho butler almost fainted. "Hasn't my service been satisfactory, sir?" 'Oh yes; everything has been all right; but, you see, Rankin, I'm going to leavo town. I er expect to do a lot of traveling." He gazed at Rankin anxiously. He hoped this would be easy. Tho worry f on his face and the cramped position j necessary to listening at the telephone and watching the butler closely gave him a pitiful expression. He looked ar if in pain. ' When Rankin said, respectfully, that, if Mr. Jones was traveling li6 should like to travel with him, Jack- son was annoyed. j H .'TcMIko to have you; Runkin," ho H Buid weakly, "but, you see, 'I .expect H to locate In er In Japan, and I've H got to have some one who under- H stands the language." H That was a poser. Ho congratulat- H ed himself. That would settle Rankin H and get rid of him with no hard feel- B Ings. IIo was really rather fond of H But no! "I speak Japanese very H well, sir," said the extraordinary but- H lor. with a calm which vouched for H bis voracity. "I was in service with H. two Japanese for over five years, and H if you think of China, sir, or Russia ' H' Fortunately for his master's diffi- H. culty maintained composure, two H things happened to distract attention. H He got his message on the telephone, H and the ringing doorbell removed H , But the young spendthrift's calm H was brief. "What's that, again?" ho H , asked the restaurant man anxiously. H "Er what? -Twenty-three hundred H and twenty-three dollars? . . . The fl what? Oh, the . . . vintage! Is that H so? . . . Er . . . not at all. Twenty- H three hundred is all right. It would H be the same to me if you had said Hj er twenty-three thousand." H Having hung up the receiver, he H, sagged down in his chair disconso- Hj Hf "Twenty-three! Twenty-three!" he H murmured. "And . . . the butler H speaks Japanese! I can't win a bet! H " I'll never forget this day!" H He rose and paced the room, then H paused and gazed at the wall calendar. H "The thirteenth of the month! No H wonder." H He threw the offending Harrison H Fisher girl into the grate, as Rankin, Hj returning, announced a persistent visi- Hj toi who had declared that he would H wait when he had been assured that Hj Mr. Jones was out. Jackson examined B the man's card. H "Peter Pembroke!" ho mused, puz- H zled. 'Where have I heard the name H before?" R "He appears to be a man of some H importance, sir." H "And he knows I'm in?" H 'Rankin nodded. H "Oh, well; bring him in. It can't H any worse." He called to Wallace. B "Bob! Oh, Bob! when you get that H total add twenty-three hundred and H twenty-three dollars to It." H "What B. "Thuh vin tago," Broadway an- H Bwered 'bitterly, as his visitor came HH H "Of course you expected me," were H his first words. "My name is Pem- HC broke." H Broadway was puzzled. "Expected B "Didn't Judge Spotswood wire' you H that I'd call?" H "Spotswood?" m 'Yes, of Jonesville." H "Oh, I know whom you mean, of K course. No; he didn't wire." H "That's strange. I talked with him K over the long-distance phone less HH than an hour ago, and he told me he Hk had wired you early this morning." Dw "No," said Broadway definitely. HBi, "I can't understand it." U j 'Hold on. Rankin did hand mo a -wire. I didn't read it." Broadway searched the table, then his pockets and finally discovered the crumpled and unopened telegram snuggling next his watch. "You have my deepest sympathy, Mr. Jones," said Pembroke unctuously, unctuous-ly, as ho was tearing off the envelope end. "Have I?" Jackson was surprised. "You must certainly have, sir. I knew your uncle very well. A fine and able man." "U-m? Er yes. He is abroad." Pembroke nodded with an unction rapidly increasing. "Yes. How sad that it should happen while he was among more strangers!" Jackson looked at him, not comprehending compre-hending in the least, and then turned his attention to the neglected telegram. tele-gram. It read: "Cable from Mr. Graham, London, England, announcing your uncle's demise, de-mise, received late last night. His last will and testament made prior to his sailing places you in possession posses-sion of the estate. His entire fortune, for-tune, his business, his every earthly possession he leaves unconditionally to you, his nephew and only heir. Shall I come to New York, or expect you here? Pembroke will call on you today. Answer at once." Broadway scarcely had the strength with which to raise his head after he had read this mighty news. So his uncle had relented at the end! "Great . heavens!" I'm awfully sorry for you, young man," said Pembroke sympathetically. sympathetic-ally. Jackson was surprised. Evidently the man knew nothing of the treatment treat-ment which his uncle had invariably given him while he still lived. "You are?" "Ah, yes; but it is something through which we must all go in this life." "What? Go through all he had? Never! I'll never go through all of that if I once really get it." "He was worth his weight in gold,' said Pembroke, still sympathetically. "How much did it total, do you know?" asked Broadway practically. "That I can't say. We offered him twelve hvndred thousand for his business and good-will less than two months ago. The proposition still holds good, Mr. Jones. We stand ready to close the deal in forty-eight hours. I er realize that in your time of trouble and grief it is hardly right to discuss business, but it is vitally important that we bring the matter to a closing point by Saturday Satur-day noon, vl's wo are considering, at the same time, the purchasing of the Sprucemint company. Our preference prefer-ence leans towr.rd the Jones gum, but" iBroadway, vide-eyed and speechless speech-less for the .uoment, gazed at him with dropping jaw. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Who is 'we?' Who stands ready with this offer?" "The company of which I have the honor to be second vice-president, Mr. Jones the Consolidated Chewing Gum Company of America." Jackson approached him with an air so serious that it was almost tearful. tear-ful. This change in the aspect of affairs af-fairs had been so sudden that he was somewhat overcome. 'Hold on. Let me get this clear. Your people want to buy the Jones Gum?" "We do." "For twelve hundred and fifty thousand thou-sand dollars?" "The top price." After an instant's pause in which he licked his lips with nervous tongue, and stood poised as if to spring upon his visitor: "Where's the money? Have you got it with you?" "I can get my lawyers together within an hour, if you are ready to close the deal." Jackson . was in a fever of excitement. excite-ment. "Well, come on then. Let's get them! What are you waiting for? Lot's get UiIb all over with as quickly as wo can." "Do you mean business?" "Certainly I mean business," Jackson Jack-son gazed at him with definite reproach. re-proach. "Don't I look like a business man?" He displayed the sack coat 'Rankin had laid out for him that morning. "Look at this business suit!" He felt in his pocket, found what he sought and was extremely satisfied. "-And I've, got, a. lead pencil and everything. Certainly I mean business." "You'll sign the articles today?" "For twelve hundred and fifty thousand thou-sand dollars I'd sign a murderer's confession!" Pembroke, who never smiled, looked look-ed at his watch. "It's twelve o'clock." 'Is it?" "We'll meet here at two." "I'll be right here, waiting." "Will you shako hands with me?" "Sure! I'll kiss you if you want me to." Even this would not divert Pembroke Pem-broke to frivolity. ' Mr. Jones, you're doing business with a great com pany." Jackson nodded. "You're the greatest great-est company I've ever met." "Two, then. Don't forget two!" "Twelve! Don't forget twelve!" "Good-bye!" "Good-bye!" Jackson went with him to the ele-. ele-. vator, watching his every movement with something which approached in its brooding care an anxious moth- er's. "Bo careful when you cross the j street! Good-bye!" I Returning to the table, he once I more read the magic telegram. "That's the first time I knew that they could telegraph from heaven," he said fervently, just as Rankin entered. en-tered. "I told the chef, sir," said the butler, but-ler, "and he says " "Never mind what he says. You tell him he must stay. I wouldn't have him go for all the world. Go out and raise his salary and give him my regards. You understand?" (To be Continued.) |