Galusha the Magnificent Part 69

"I guess not. He hasn't paid you thirteen thousand dollars for board, has he?"

"Thirteen thousand dollars! Well, I guess not--scarcely. What are you talkin' about, Mr. Cabot? What is the joke?"

"I don't know. That's one of the things which, now that I am down here, I should like to find out. Somehow or other, since he has been on the Cape, he has managed to get rid of over thirteen thousand dollars. He SAYS he has given it to some of his mummy-hunting friends, but I am rather suspicious. He hasn't been organizing a clam trust, has he, Miss Phipps?"

Plainly, Martha did not know what to make of this speech. It was a joke, of course, but just where the point of the joke was located she was not sure. To her, thirteen thousand dollars was an enormous sum. The idea that her lodger, gentle, retiring little Galusha Bangs, possessed a half of that fortune was a joke in itself. But... And then she saw Galusha's face and the expression upon it.

"Why--why, Mr. Bangs!" she exclaimed.

Cabot turned and he, too, saw the expression. He burst out laughing.

"See!" he cried. "Doesn't he look guilty? It IS a clam trust, Miss Phipps. By Jove, Loosh, you are discovered! Galusha Bangs, the Clam King! Ha, ha, ha! Look at him, Miss Phipps! Look at him! Did you ever see a plainer case of conscious guilt? Ha, ha!"

He was enjoying himself hugely. And really Galusha was a humorous spectacle. He was very red in the face, he was trembling, and he appeared to be struggling for words and finding none.

"I--I insist," he stammered. "I--I mean I protest. It is ridiculous--ah--ah--absurd! I--I--"

His cousin broke in upon him. "Ha, ha!" he cried. "The secret is out.

And you gave me to understand the mummy-hunters had it. Oh, Galusha!"

Galusha made another attempt.

"I--I told you--" he faltered. "I--I told you--"

"You told me it had gone to Egypt. But I was suspicious, old man. Why, Miss Phipps, isn't it glorious? Look at him!"

Martha was looking. Her face wore a puzzled expression.

"Isn't it glorious?" repeated Cousin Gussie.

She shrugged. "I suppose it is," she said. "Maybe it would be more so if I knew what it was all about. And Mr. Bangs doesn't look as if he found much glory in it."

"Of course he doesn't. Serves him right, the rascal. You see, Miss Phipps, I am supposed to take care of his money for him, and, while I was away in the mountains, my secretary sent him a check for over fourteen thousand dollars, sent it to him by mistake. _I_ never should have done it, of course. I know him of old, where money is concerned.

Well, almost immediately after receiving the check, up he comes to our Boston office and--"

"Cousin Gussie! I--I protest! I--"

"Up he comes, Miss Phipps, and draws five thousand of the fourteen thousand in cash, in money, and takes it away with him. Then--"

"Cousin Gussie! Mr. Cabot!"

The tone in which Galusha spoke was so different from his usual one, and the fact of his addressing his relative as "Mr. Cabot" so astonishing, that the latter was obliged to stop even in the full tide of his enjoyment of the joke. He turned, to find Galusha leaning forward, one hand upon the center table, and the other extending a forefinger in his direction. The finger shook a little, but its owner's countenance was set like a rock. And now it was not crimson, but white.

"Mr. Cabot," said Galusha, "I must insist that you say no more on this matter. My personal business is--ah--presumably my own. I--I must insist. Insist--ah--absolutely; yes."

His cousin looked at him and he returned the look. Cabot's hesitation was but momentary. His astonishment was vast, but he accepted the situation gracefully. He laughed no more.

"I beg your pardon, Galusha," he said. "I'm sorry. I had no thought of offending you, old man. I--well, perhaps I am inclined to joke too freely. But, really, I didn't suppose--I never knew you to be--"

He paused. Galusha's expression did not change; he said nothing.

"I am very sorry," went on the banker. "It was only thoughtlessness on my part. You'll forgive me, Loosh, I hope."

Galusha bowed, but he did not smile. A little of the color came back to his cheeks.

"Ah--ah--Yes, certainly," he stammered. "Certainly, quite so."

He sat down in his chair again, but he did not look in Miss Phipps'

direction. He seemed to know that she was regarding him with a fixed and startled intentness.

"Five thousand dollars!" she said, in a low tone. Neither of the men appeared to hear her. Cabot, too, sat down. And it was he who, plainly seeking for a subject to relieve the tension, spoke next.

"I was telling my cousin," he said, addressing Martha, "that I came down here to attend to a little matter of business. The business wasn't my own exactly, but it was a commission from a friend and client of mine and he left it in my charge. He and I supposed we had an agent here in your town, Miss Phipps, who was attending to it for us, but of late he hasn't been very successful. I received a letter from Williams--from my friend; he is in the South--asking me to see if I couldn't hurry matters up a bit. So I motored down. But this agent of ours was not in. Probably you know him. His name is Pulcifer."

Martha and Galusha started simultaneously.

"Pulcifer?" queried Martha. "Raish Pulcifer, do you mean?"

"It doesn't seem to me that his Christian name is--What did you say, Miss Phipps?"

"I said 'Raish'; that's what every one down here calls the man I mean.

His real name, of course, is Horatio."

"Horatio? That sounds more like it. I didn't hire him--Williams did that--and I have never met him, although he and Thomas, my secretary, have had some correspondence. Wait a moment, I have his name here."

He took from his pocket a memorandum book and turned over the leaves.

"Yes," he said, "that's it. Horatio Pulcifer. Here is his card. 'Horatio Pulcifer, Dealer in Real Estate of All Kinds; Cranberry Bog Property Bought and Sold; Mortgages Arranged For; Fire, Life and Accident Insurance; Money Loaned; Claims Adjusted; Real or Household Goods Auctioned Off or Sold Private; etc., etc.' Humph! Comprehensive person, isn't he? Is this the fellow you know, Miss Phipps?"

Martha nodded. "Yes," she said, "I know him."

Cabot glanced at her. "I see," he observed. "Well, what sort of a character is he? Would you trust him?"

She hesitated. "Why--why," she replied, "I suppose I should, if--if--"

"If he was not too far away, or around the corner, or anything like that? I understand."

Martha was a bit disturbed. "You mustn't put words in my mouth, Mr.

Cabot," she said. "I didn't say Raish Pulcifer was dishonest."

"No, that is true. And I beg your pardon for asking embarra.s.sing questions. I have seen some of the fellow's letters and usually a letter is a fairly good indication of character--or lack of it. I have had my surmises concerning the ubiquitous Horatio for some time."

Martha seemed to be thinking.

"I understood you to say he was your agent for somethin' down here, Mr.

Cabot," she said. "Sellin' somethin', was he? That kind of an agent?"

"No. As a matter of fact, he was supposed to be buying something, but he hasn't made much progress. He started out well, but of late he seems to have found trouble. I am rather surprised because we--that is, Williams--pay him a liberal commission. I judge he doesn't hate a dollar and that kind of man usually goes after it hammer and tongs. You see--But there, I presume I should not go into particulars, not yet."