David Lannarck, Midget Part 22

Damino approached his quarry cautiously. With his right hand he fingered an inside pocket of his coat; withdrew the hand to place it on Shirley's shoulder. "Let's git goin'," he said as he shoved Shirley toward the door.

Shirley had seen a move that he thought important. He grabbed the extended right arm to give it a jujitsu move up and to the back of the body. It made the a.s.sailant grunt and his left knee buckled in its uncertain stance. Quickly Shirley reached in the inside pocket to withdraw a lengthy Colt revolver. Shifting the weapon to his right hand, he brought it down in a mighty blow on the temple of his a.s.sailant. Damino fell to the floor. Carlin fled the room by the back door. Shirley turned to find Anzio frantically searching the contents of a drawer in the nearby cabinet. Placing the gun in his pocket, Shirley seized a tall, steel-legged stool to bring it down on Anzio's unprotected head. Anzio joined Damino on the floor. Shirley walked out the front door.

On the sidewalk Shirley encountered the policeman. "What's going on in there?" he demanded.

"Not much, just now," was the reply, "but I was certainly busy for a short time. Why are you here?"

"Your friend, Fred Townsend, is responsible. Fred is seemingly not in touch with our present city administration, but he sure has a strong pull with our chief. Fred phoned him to send two or three of the force down here to see that you were not killed or taken for a ride. We don't know what it's all about, but we're here. Ah, here's company,"

the officer added as another policeman came out of the alley, shoving Carlin in front of him.

"Is this the finish?" inquired the alley officer. "This fellow,"

pointing to Carlin, "came out of the back door rather hurriedly and began searching in a pile of junk. I thought that was a part of that play. What's it all about anyway?"

"This is the finish, my friends, and I am very much obliged for your presence," said Shirley as he prepared to leave. "But there's a couple in there that may need first aid. Go right in; give what a.s.sistance you can, and call me if I'm needed."

Shirley watched the perplexed officers as they went into the front office. Then he walked leisurely up the alley to Oak Street. Nearing the railroad, he heard a freight train slowing down at the water-tank.

Now he hurried to pa.s.s down the train to a boxcar with an open door.

He crawled in. As the train pulled out, he went to a front corner, sat down to pull off his shoe and place a neatly folded twenty-dollar bill on the inner sole.

Whatever his future was to be, Shirley Wells was on his way.

PART THREE

21

David Lannarck arrived in Chicago in the late afternoon. Wanting to see Bransford in the daylight hours, he stayed the night with a friend at the Miami Patio to take a morning train to his destination. He had never been in Bransford and he preferred to take an open cab to the Grand Union so that he might look around. At the hotel he was a.s.signed the parlor suite with telephone and bath, probably because the clerk had never before registered a three-footer with the face and voice of an adult.

Davy was not yet ready to announce his plans for rehearsals. He wanted to know more of local conditions. He phoned the Fred Townsend office.

"Mr. Townsend is in court this morning," the secretary reported, "but he will be available this afternoon."

"Save me the first hour," said Davy. "It's important to both of us."

After luncheon Davy tipped the bellhop to accompany him. "I could probably find the place," he explained, "but I go better if I am haltered and led to the spot." As the caller hoped, Townsend was in.

The secretary ushered Davy into the private office.

"I was sent here by a Mister Sam Welborn," Davy explained. "He wants to learn of the legal status and community standing of a former resident by the name of Shirley Wells."

"Shirley Wells! Do you know Shirley Wells?" Townsend sprang to his feet and walked around the desk. "Is Shirley Wells alive? Available?

Can I get in touch with him right away?"

"Say, Mister Townsend, out in my blessed locality, where men are men, and the women are glad of it, they accuse me of asking eight or ten questions before the first one is answered. I want to take you out there to show 'em I am an amateur. For a year or more I have been a.s.sociated with an upstanding gent who gave out his name as Sam Welborn. In all my public career I've never met a person more honest in business or more fearless with thugs and undesirables. Ten devils couldn't stop him if he thought he was right and even a midget could, and did, shame him out of some of his atrocious efforts. When he reached a certain goal in his persistent activities he disclosed to us four at the home where he headquartered that he was going back to his old home town to find out just where he stood--criminal or citizen. He planned to go back there in disguise; to listen in, to read old newspaper files, and to learn the truth.

"And then I horned in. This man Welborn had saved my life; he got me planted where I wanted to be; I owed him everything. I didn't ask--I just told him--that I would go to his town and, under the pretext of rehearsing a midget show, I would get the needed dope. He fell right in with my proposal. He disclosed that his name was Shirley Wells, that his home town was Bransford, and here I am."

Townsend went to the door of the office. "I will be busy for the next hour," he said to the secretary as he closed the door.

"Just where, and how soon, can I contact this Shirley Wells?" Townsend asked as he seated himself alongside of Davy. "This is really the only time I've needed him since he left. Where is he? I'll send him all the funds needed to get him home."

"He's in Denver, just temporarily. I do not have his address, but he will be in this Chicago vicinity by the end of this week. Maybe he will be disguised, but I hope not. He will phone me at the Grand Union to know how he stands in his home town. That's what I've come here to find out. Is he under indictment? Will he have to serve time? How much money is needed to clean his slate? Will a mob form if he shows up on your city streets? What was it he did, anyhow?"

Fred Townsend laughed quietly. "We are both so anxious to get information that our cross-questioning is confusing. However, when you described your man as honest, persistent, and fearless in dealing with crooks and thugs, I would have known that you were talking about Shirley Wells, even if you had omitted the name. He's just that!

"Shirley Wells is not under indictment, and when he returns the general public will give him a hearty welcome. In fact, had he stayed here for a day or two after the incident he would have been a hero.

Would have been carried at the head of the mob of women that paraded the streets of our city in protest of conditions. He would have been a part of the orderly crowd of men that went out to the old farm to destroy the offending distillery. Shirley Wells started the clean-up here, and it spread to all affected localities. This is the story."

Then Fred Townsend told the story, to include the history of the Wells bank, of Shirley's army service, of Carson's banking relations with the Chicago mobsters. "For nearly a decade this Shirley Wells was a silent do-nothing. He seemingly hesitated to claim his property rights and yet had nerve to invade the stronghold of these gangsters and tell 'em the truth. He nearly killed two of 'em and the other disappeared."

And then Townsend detailed what followed as the morning paper gave big headlines of the desperate adventure. It not only recited that the two were hospitalized in a critical condition but it gave inside information as to the illegal business being conducted at the farm.

"That evening, nearly a thousand women paraded our streets to the mayor's office, with banners flying, to insist that there be a clean-up of the entire illegal business.

"The next day, fully fifty automobiles a.s.sembled at Fifth and Cedar Streets to drive out to the farm and burn down the old shed where the still was located. I was in that party and I easily persuaded them to allow the house and big barn to remain unharmed, but all bottles, labels, cans of liquids, crates, and containers were thrown in the fire. The house-furnishings revealed that it was the headquarters for the many employees, but none were present, either to welcome or protest.

"On returning to town it was learned that Carson Wells had committed suicide. His worthy wife was not at home, was not present at the funeral. She is reported as living in Chicago, a housemother at a sorority of one of the universities.

"The Wells National Bank was of course closed. I was appointed the receiver. Things were in a terrible mess; negligence and forgeries caused a lot of added work, but the bank had a valuable a.s.set in that the stock was held in one family--wasn't scattered to cause contentions and delays. I recovered the farm, held on to the bank building, and charged the forgeries and shortages to Carson's account.

Shirley is possessed of the remainder, but it's not enough to do what's required.

"This city needs a bank. The nation is recovering from the depression and very soon business will be back to normal. The Wells National must be restored to service and Shirley Wells, the man who started the clean-up, must be connected with it. His service in cleaning out those crooks was, and is, the big a.s.set.

"Here in my office I have prepared a list of names of those who can, and should, take stock in a bank. With Shirley here, we can canva.s.s this list for the needed subscriptions. Surely we can...."

"Just how much money will it take to revive a bank?" asked Davy quietly.

"Forty or fifty thousand dollars will be required to complete the subscriptions and show a small surplus and I think we can----"

"Why, Shirley will have that much, and more, in his upper vest pocket when he arrives," and then Davy told his lengthy story to an eager listener.

"I have known him for nearly two years," said Davy in concluding his lengthy recital, "and in that time he worked hard--too hard. I upbraided him for it. Now, knowing why he was so continuously busy, working to restore his family name and credit in his home town, I should have kept my mouth shut."

"Do you think he will consent to taking charge of the restored family bank?" asked Townsend. "Will he apply the money to that end?"

"I'll see that he puts up the money. He says that half of it is mine, but he may balk on taking charge. And that's our present job. I have a friend in Springfield that's the greatest little banker the world ever produced. I'll get him here, or send Welborn--I mean Shirley--to him to learn the game."

"This has certainly been my lucky day," said Townsend as the party broke up. "This morning the judge approved my settlement of the long-standing Norris case, I received a letter containing a draft of an outstanding debt, and now the important Wells bank receivership settles itself. Let me know the minute Shirley arrives."

Davy's hours of impatience were interrupted on Sat.u.r.day morning by a telephone call from Chicago. The booth at the Grand Union afforded the privacy needed.

"If you are in your own clothes...."

Davy's directive was interrupted by a hearty laugh, and a prompt inquiry: "Am I under indictment?"