Five Thousand an Hour Read online

  He drew in his breath sharply.

  "You're a lucky kid!" he told her.

  There was something in the intensity of his tone which made her look up at him, startled.

  "Now don't you fall in love with her, Johnny!" she begged.

  "Why not?" he demanded. "I never tried it; but I bet I can do it."

  "That's the trouble," she expostulated; "it's too easy. You can fall in all right, but how will you get out?"

  "I don't want out," he assured her. "I play marbles for keeps."

  "All right then; take to pickles and perfume. Look here, Johnny; if none of her own set can ring her with an orange wreath what can an outsider do?"

  "How do I know till I try?" he inquired. "I get you, Polly. You mean I'm not in her class; but, you see, I want her!"

  "So do the others," she objected.

  "They're not used to hard work," he earnestly informed her. "Say, I need a million dollars."

  "Take enough while you're at it! What do you want it for?"

  "Her stack's that high."

  "She'd never count it."

  "I know; but Aunt Pattie and I would. I have to have it, Polly."

  "Then you'll get it," she resignedly admitted. "Why, Johnny, I believe you could get Constance, too!" she added with suddenly accelerated belief in him. "Well, I'm certainly for you. Tell me, what can I do to help you?"

  "Poison Gresham for me."

  "Give me your fifteen cents," she directed. "He's about as popular with her as a flea with a dog; but he goes with the furniture. He was wished on her by her Aunt Gertrude."

  "Why did her aunt hate her?"

  "She hated everybody; so she went in for charity. She made six wills, each time leaving all her money to a different public institution; but they each one did something she didn't like before she could die. The last time she decided to give Constance a chance, made a new will and took sick the same night. Constance has the interest on her million till she marries Gresham; then she gets it all. If she marries anybody else before Gresham dies the money goes to a home for blind cats, or something like that."

  "Healthy soul, wasn't she?" commiserated Johnny. "But why Gresham?"

  "The bug for family. Aunt Gertrude's father didn't make his tobacco- trust money fast enough for her to marry Gresham's father, who would have been a lord if everybody in England had died. Constance is to bring aristocracy into the family now."

  "Tell her to tear up that million. I'll get her another one," offered Johnny easily.

  "You'll need some repairs before you start," she suggested. "They tell me you're down and out."

  "Tell them to guess again!" he indignantly retorted. "I own all the to-morrows in the world. There's money in every one of them."

  "I've got an awful big bank-account that needs exercise," she offered. "Now, look here, Johnny, don't yell like I'd hit you with a brick. You told me to help myself once when I needed it, and I did. You ought to let me get even. All right, then; be stingy! Where's Sammy?" She had been feeling in both sleeves with a trace of annoyance, and now she turned to discover Sammy a few paces back, idly watching a policeman putting an inebriated man off the track. "Sammy!" she called him sharply. He came, running and frightened. "I've lost my handkerchief," she informed him. "Go get it." Sammy smiled gratefully and was gone.

  "Where did you find it?" asked Johnny, indicating the departing messenger. "Follow you home one cold night, or did a friend give it to you?"

  "Oh, no," she said carelessly; "it just sticks around. I can't get rid of it, so I've trained it to be handy when I need it."

  She fastened upon Colonel Mason just as the horses came to the post, and she was suplying him with a check blank just as they got away from the barrier. Gamble turned to the track and distinguished his long shot off in the lead. He smiled grimly at that irony, for he had seen long-shot horses raise false hopes before. Mildly interested, he watched Angora reach the quarter pole, still in the lead. Rather incredulously, he saw her still in the lead at the half. He was eager about it when she rounded the three-quarters with nothing but daylight before her; and as she came down the stretch, with Nautchautauk reaching out for her flanks, he stuck the ash-end of his cigar in his mouth and did not see the finish. He knew, by the colossal groan from the grandstand, however, that Angora had beaten the favorite; and, though he was not in the least excited, he felt through all his pockets for his tickets, forgetting that he had taken them out at the beginning of the race and still held them in his hand; also, he forgot completely that he was supposed to be escorting Polly, and immediately sauntered down to the betting shed- -to collect the largest five thousand and one hundred dollars in captivity.

  CHAPTER III. IN WHICH JOHNNY MIXES BUSINESS AND PLEASURE

  A general desire to bet on the last race had sent all the occupants of the Boyden box, except Constance, Polly and Gresham, down to the betting shed when Gamble returned; and he was very glad there was room enough for him to sit down and enjoy himself. He had evil designs upon Gresham.

  "This is my lucky day," he observed, smiling upon Miss Joy. "I began this afternoon to pile up an exact million. A near horse gave me a five-thousand-dollar start."

  "If you keep on at the rate of five thousand dollars an hour you'll have your million in two hundred hours," Constance figured for him.

  "I won't work Sundays, evenings, holidays or birthdays," he objected.

  "How fussy!" commented Polly. "Which was the kind horse?"

  "A goat by the name of Angora," he replied.

  "That race should call for an inquiry," sternly stated Gresham.

  "You must have bet on the favorite," returned Gamble, and laughed when Gresham winced. Not a shade of Gresham's expression was escaping him now.

  "We all did," acknowledged Constance smilingly. "This is the first time I ever bet on the races; and I sent down to bet on every horse in this last one, so I'll be sure to win just once. I suppose you attend the races frequently, Mr. Gamble?"

  "I'll give you one more guess," he returned. "I don't like to walk home."

  "You won't have to walk this time," she reminded him.

  "Not while I ride!" asserted Polly stoutly.

  "I'm so glad you won, Johnny. I guess you'll stay in Baltimore now."

  "And give this back? I'll get an injunction against myself first. Polly, I owe you twenty-five hundred dollars. Here's the money."

  "This is so sudden," she coyly observed. "My memory's poor, though, Johnny."

  "It's a promise I made myself: If I won this bet half of the winnings belonged to the babies' hotel."

  "Wait, Johnny," objected Polly, pushing the money away from her. "I'd rather have you on the new subscription list, by and by, for the furnishing and remodeling fund."

  "I'll go on both of them," he offered, putting the money in her lap. "You ought to know that I stick."

  "Yes, you do," she sighed, and passed him the list, covertly pointing out Gresham's name as she did so and showing the amount opposite it to be one hundred dollars.

  "Mr. Gamble wants to make sure that you'll get it," sneered Gresham, and laughed. He was anxious to belittle Gamble in the eyes of Constance.

  "If Johnny Gamble puts his name down it's as good as paid!" flared Polly. "By the way, Mr. Gresham, I have that Corn Exchange check blank for you now."

  She handed him the blank and her fountain-pen; and, with some slight reluctance, Mr. Gresham paid his subscription.

  "Thanks," said Polly briskly. "Johnny, did you say I should put you on the other list for the same amount?"

  Constance leaned hastily forward, with the impulse to interfere against so foolhardy a thing, but caught herself; and, leaning back, she looked at Johnny Gamble in profile and smiled. There was something fascinating about the fellow's clear-eyed assurance as he cheerfully answered: "If you please, Polly."

  "It will take you four hundred hours now to make your million," Gresham advised him, with scarcely concealed contempt.

  "I'm no loafer," Gamble declared
.

  They all laughed at that.

  "I beg your pardon," apologized Gresham. "Let's see. How long will it take you to make your million at the rate of five thousand an hour? How many hours a day?"

  "About seven on regular days; three on Saturdays."

  Both the girls were still laughing at the absurdity of it all.

  "Counting off for Sundays, you should have your million in about forty days," persisted Gresham, figuring it with pencil and paper.

  Johnny studied the problem carefully.

  "All right; I'll do it," he announced, and looked at his watch.

  "Bravo!" applauded Constance. "If you could succeed in that you would display a force which nothing could resist."

  Gresham looked at her with a quick frown.

  "And if he failed he would display a presumption which nothing could forgive," he paraphrased. "If it's not asking too much, Mr. Gamble, I'm curious to know how you propose to accumulate your million." And he smiled across at Miss Joy, who turned to Gamble, waiting interestedly for his reply.

  "Work a lot of neglected stunts. I never wanted to make a million till now. I know how, though. I think I'll start with real estate." And he watched Gresham narrowly.

  "That's a dismal enough opening," announced Gresham with a pained expression. "It is impossible to secure a decent price for property, especially when you want to sell it."

  "If you want to get rid of some I'll buy it," offered Gamble promptly.

  "I want cash." And again Gresham smiled over at Constance. The slight trace of a frown flitted across her brow. She had always thought of Gresham as a man of perfect breeding.

  "Name the right figure. I'll make a deal with you on the spot."

  "This is scarcely the place for business," Gresham reproved him.

  "I beg pardon," Gamble quickly said, and looked at Constance, a trifle abashed.

  "Please go ahead," that young lady urged. "This is more fun than the races."

  "Thanks." He smiled gratefully, "Now, Gresham, let's get down to statistics. These are working hours. Here's twenty-five hundred."

  "What for?" asked Gresham, looking at the money avariciously.

  "To show confidence in the dealer. You have a vacant lot up-town. What's it worth?"

  "Forty thousand dollars," recited Graham.

  "If you want forty it's worth thirty," Gamble sagely concluded. "I'll split it with you. Give you thirty-five."

  Gresham shook his head; but Gamble, watching him closely, saw that he was figuring.

  "I can't let the property go for less than its value."

  "I don't want you to. I offered you thirty-five."

  "On what terms?" inquired Gresham cautiously.

  "Thirty days cash. This twenty-five hundred is a first payment. I want a renewable option. If I don't cross over with the balance in thirty days, spend the money."

  "What do you mean by a renewable option?" asked Gresham, hesitating.

  "When this option runs out I get another at the same price—and twice more after that."

  "Nonsense!" exclaimed Gresham, turning away. "Why, I'd be letting you tie up my property for four months."

  "I'm offering you over eighty per cent, a year. You'd rather stay tied."

  Gresham pondered that problem for a moment.

  "By Jove, you're right!" he said. "I'm selfish enough to hope that you can't pay for it in thirty days." He reflected that in all probability this reckless person was playing another long shot. "I'll take you."

  Gamble piled the money into his hands, and with Polly's fountain- pen, wrote a clear and concise statement of the option upon the back of an unimportant letter. Gresham, as soon as he had finished counting the money with caressing fingers, read and reread the option cautiously—and signed it.

  Polly reached out for it.

  "Let me witness this," she requested with a glance of meaning at her friend Johnny; and, writing the word "Witnesses" in its proper place, she signed her name and passed the paper to Miss Joy. "Come in, Constance; the water's fine," she invited. "Be a witness with me and let's all be in vulgar trade."

  Constance signed the paper gravely, puckering her lips adorably as she made a careful business of it. She gave the paper to Mr. Gamble, and he felt foolish enough to kiss the signature. She found another paper upon her lap and opened it mechanically. It was the subscription list. Suddenly she burst into laughter.

  "This last donation is from Angora!" she exclaimed. "That's a generous subscription, Mr. Gamble; but I don't know whether to thank you or the horse."

  "Thank the goat, whoever that is," he suggested, smiling into her eyes. Great Scott, what eyes they were! "Polly, Colonel Bouncer is over there by the band stand. I'll give you a nickel's worth of peanuts if you'll tell him what I'm doing."

  Mr. Gresham turned olive green.

  "Wait a minute, Miss Parsons," he protested. "Mr. Gamble, you manage very nicely without Mr. Collaton. If you knew of a probable purchaser for my property you have just taken a most unethical advantage of me."

  "You didn't have your fingers crossed," Gamble serenely reminded him.

  "Not once," corroborated Polly. "I watched him all the time. Just leave the colonel to me, Johnny. I'll scare him to death on the way here," and she hurried away upon her errand.

  "I suppose I must take my medicine," said Gresham glumly. "I should have sent you to my lawyer. I might have known that your business ethics and my own would be entirely different."

  "What are business ethics, Mr. Gresham?" asked Constance with suspicious innocence.

  "There do not seem to be any," he responded.

  "I never heard of any," agreed Gamble cheerfully. "My principle is, See it first and grab it."

  "That's the rule of every highwayman, I believe," charged Gresham. "You will excuse me for a few moments, please?" And he hurried away in pursuit of a man whom he had seen passing.

  "That's the rule of life," said Gamble. "I had to learn it quick. It took me four months to save up my first eighteen dollars. I thought I'd never get it."

  "You must have wanted something very much," suggested Constance, smiling sympathetically at her vision of this man as a boy, hoarding his pennies and nickels like a miser for so long a time.

  "I did," he admitted simply. "I wanted a cook stove with silver knobs. The day I had it brought home was the proudest of my life. My mother knelt down and hugged it. It had four lids and not one of them was cracked."

  Constance looked at him with a musing smile. He must have been a handsome boy.

  CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH GRESHAM FINDS JOHNNY'S OLD PARTNER ACCOMMODATING

  Beneath the grandstand, Gresham caught up with a thin-faced and sandy-haired man whose colorless eyebrows and almost colorless eyes gave his waxlike countenance a peculiarly blank expression—much as if one had drawn a face and had forgotten to mark in the features. The man started nervously as Gresham touched him on the shoulder, and his thin lips parted in a frightened snarl.

  "You have such a ghastly way of slipping up behind one," he complained, brushing the shoulder upon which Gresham had laid his hand.

  "You're nervous, Collaton. I'm not Johnny Gamble," laughed Gresham.

  "Suppose you were!" indignantly retorted Collaton. "I'm not avoiding Johnny." And he studied Gresham furtively.

  "The Gamble-Collaton books are. Do you imagine there are any more outstanding accounts against your firm?"

  "How should I know?" Collaton glanced about him uneasily.

  "True enough—how should you?" agreed Gresham soothingly. "I'd feel rather sorry for Gamble if an old and forgotten note against your firm, upon which a judgment had been quietly secured 'by default', should turn up just now."

  "I don't think one will," returned Collaton, searching Gresham's eyes. "Why?"

  "Because he is almost certain to make a deposit in the Fourth National Bank in a short time."

  "That's a very good reason," laughed Collaton, now certain of the eyes.

  "If that deposit were to be a
ttached," went on Gresham suavely, "it might embarrass him very much." There was a slight pause." If you'll call me up to-night I'll let you know how much it will be and when he is likely to bank it."

  "Why do you tell me this?" puzzled Collaton.

  "Because I want him broke!" explained Gresham, his face suddenly twitching viciously in spite of himself.

  Collaton thought it over carefully.

  "What's your telephone number?" he accommodatingly inquired.

  Colonel Bouncer, meanwhile, was flattered to have Polly Parsons pause at his seat as she came down the aisle, after an extended passage at arms with Val Russel, and tell him how young he looked.

  "Gad, you'd make any man feel young and brisk!" he gallantly declared.

  "Wasn't that Paul Gresham in Mrs. Boyden's box?"

  "Yes; the very Paul," she assured him, glad that the colonel was making it so easy for her. "He's going to give you a new neighbor, Colonel. He's just been discussing a deal with Mr. Gamble for the vacant property next to your factory."

  "Bless my soul!" ejaculated the colonel, rising hastily. "He hasn't actually sold it, has he?"

  "He has given Mr. Gamble an option on it," Polly was happy to state.

  "You don't say!" exploded the colonel. "Why, what does Johnny Gamble want with it?"

  "He didn't tell; but I think he's organizing a shoe-manufacturing company," lied Polly glibly.

  "Goodness me!" muttered the colonel, and, breathing heavily, he cursed his procrastination heartily to himself, threw discretion to the winds and hurried down to the Boyden box just as Gresham returned. His greeting to the other occupants was but perfunctory, and then he turned to Gresham with: "You haven't sold your property adjoining my factory, have you, Gresham?"