Cap'n Warren's Wards Part 18

Sylvester hesitated. "Why--why--not particularly so," he admitted.

"Nothing crooked about them, of course. You see, a stock-broker's life is a nerve-racking, rather exciting one, and--"

"And 'Bije and his chums were excited, too, hey? All right, you needn't go any further. He was a good husband while his wife lived, wa'n't he?"

"Yes. Frankly, Captain Warren, so far as I know, your brother's personal habits were good. There was nothing against his character."

"I'm mighty glad to hear it. Mighty glad. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"No. Our next move, provided you decide to accept the trust, the executors.h.i.+p, and the rest, is to get together--you and Graves, if he is well enough; you and I if he is not--and begin a careful examination of the stocks, bonds, a.s.sets, and debts of the estate. This must be done first of all."

"Graves hinted there wa'n't any debts, to amount to anything."

"So far as we can see, there are none, except a few trifling bills."

"Yes, yes. Hum!" Captain Elisha put down his coffee spoon and seemed to be thinking. He shook his head.

"You appear to be puzzled about something," observed the lawyer, who was watching him intently.

"I am. I was puzzled afore I left home, and I'm just as puzzled now."

"What puzzles you? if I may ask."

"Everything. And, if you'll excuse my sayin' so, Mr. Sylvester, I guess it puzzles you, too."

He returned his host's look. The latter pushed back his chair, preparatory to rising.

"It is all so perfectly simple, on the face of it, Captain Warren," he said. "Your brother realized that he must die, that his children and their money must be taken care of; you were his nearest relative; his trust in your honesty and judgment caused him to overlook the estrangement between you. That's the case, isn't it?"

"Yes. That's the case, on the face of it, as you say. But you've forgot to mention one item."

"What's that?"

"'Bije himself. You knew him pretty well, I can see that. So did I. And I guess that's why we're both puzzled."

Captain Elisha folded his napkin with care and stood up. Sylvester rose, also.

"Come downstairs," he said. "We can enjoy our cigars more comfortably there, and go on with our talk. That is, unless you're in a great hurry."

"No, I ain't in any special hurry. So I get up to Caroline's in season for supper--er, dinner, I mean--I don't care. But I don't want to keep you. You're a busy man."

"This is business. This way, Captain."

The big lounging room of the club, on the first floor, Fifth Avenue side, was almost empty when they entered it. The lawyer drew two big chairs near the open fire, rang the bell, and ordered cigars. After the cigars were lighted and the fragrant clouds of tobacco smoke were rising, he reopened the conversation. And now, in an easy, diplomatic way, he took his turn at questioning.

It was pretty thorough pumping, managed with the skill of an experienced cross-examiner. Captain Elisha, without realizing that he was doing so, told of his boyhood, his life at sea, his home at South Denboro, his position in the village, his work as selectman, as member of the school committee, and as director in the bank. The tone of the questioner expressed nothing--he was too well trained for that--but every item of information was tabulated and appraised.

The tall mahogany-cased clock struck three, then four. The lawyer finished his cigar and lit another. He offered a fresh one to his guest, but the offer was declined.

"No, thank you," observed the captain. "I've been yarnin' away so fast that my breath's been too busy to keep this one goin'. There's consider'ble left yet. This is a better smoke than I'm used to gettin' at the store down home. I tell Ryder--he's our storekeeper and postmaster--that he must buy his cigars on the reel and cut 'em off with the scissors. When the gang of us all got a-goin' mail times, it smells like a rope-walk burnin' down. Ho! ho! It does, for a fact. Yet I kind of enjoy one of his five-centers, after all. You can get used to most anything. Maybe it's the home flavor or the society. P'raps they'd taste better still if they was made of seaweed. I'll trouble you for a match, Mr. Sylvester. Two of 'em, if you don't mind."

He whittled one match to a point with his pocket knife, impaled the cigar stump upon it, and relit with the other.

Meanwhile the room had been filling up. Around each of the big windows overlooking the Avenue were gathered groups of men, young and old, smoking, chatting, and gazing idly out. Captain Elisha regarded them curiously.

"This ain't a holiday, is it?" he asked, after a while.

"No. Why?"

"I was just wonderin' if all those fellers hadn't any work to do, that's all."

"Who? That crowd?" The lawyer laughed. "Oh, they're doing their regular stunt. You'll find most of them here every afternoon about this time."

"You don't say. Pay 'em wages for it, do you?"

"Not that I know of. Some of them are brokers, who come up after the Exchange closes. Others are business men, active or retired. Some don't have any business--except what they're doing now."

"I want to know! Humph! They remind me of the gang in the billiard-room back home. The billiard-roomers--the chronic ones--don't have any business, either, except to keep the dust from collectin' on the chairs.

That and talkin' about hard times. These chaps don't seem to be sufferin' from hard times, much."

"No. Most of the younger set have rich fathers or have inherited money."

"I see. They let the old man do the worryin'. That's philosophy, anyhow.

What are they so interested in outside? Parade goin' by?"

"No. I imagine an unusually pretty girl pa.s.sed just then."

"Is that so? Well, well! Say, Mr. Sylvester, the longer I stay in New York the more I see that the main difference between it and South Denboro is size. The billiard-room gang acts just the same way when the downstairs school teacher goes past. h.e.l.lo!"

"What is it?"

"That young chap by the mizzen window looks sort of familiar to me. The one that stood up to shake a day-day to whoever was pa.s.sin'. Hum! He's made a hit, ain't he? I expect some unprotected female's heart broke at that signal. I cal'late I know him."

"Who? Which one? Oh, that's young Corcoran Dunn. He is a lady-killer, in his own estimation. How d'ye do, Dunn."

The young man turning grinning from the window, caught a glimpse of the lawyer as the latter rose to identify him. He strolled over to the fire.

"h.e.l.lo, Sylvester," he hailed, carelessly. "That was a peach. You should have seen her. What? Why, it's the Admiral!"

"How d'ye do, Mr. Dunn," said Captain Elisha.

"Have you two met before?" asked Sylvester in astonishment.

"Yes. I had the pleasure of a.s.sisting in the welcoming salute when our seafarin' friend come aboard. How was that, Captain? Some nautical cla.s.s to that remark?"

"Yup. You done fust rate, considerin' how recent you s.h.i.+pped."

"Thanks. Overwhelmed, I'm sure." Then, with a look of languid amus.e.m.e.nt at the pair, "What is this--a meeting of the Board of Naval Affairs?

Have you bought a yacht, Sylvester?"