Part 1 (2/2)
”That's great!” he shouted-ignoring my reluctance, and giving the impression I had consented when nothing of the sort had happened. ”I knew you would,” he added.
”Would what?” I asked bitterly.
”Help me out.”
”I-ah-believe you did mention a favor,” I ventured. And then I added pointedly, ”A trifling favor.”Dido nodded, his round little chin disappearing into his roundish neck as he did so. ”That's it, Henry,” he said. ”Just a trifling favor. No trouble at all. But it means a lot to me.”
His tone, coupled with what I knew of his ways, warned me that it wasn't anything trivial at all.
”If it's money-” I began coldly.
He let go another whoop at that. And he yelled, ”Pal you haven't changed. I'll bet you are as big a skinflint with a dollar as you ever were!”
”I'm no skinflint!” I snapped. ”You always did confuse sensible economy with penuriousness.”
”Henry,” he said, ”who are you kidding? Getting a nickel out of you was always just about as easy as taking the skin off a flint rock. What does skinflint mean?”
Somewhat relieved, but quite disgusted with him, I asked, ”It isn't money you want?”
”Money?” He pushed out his lips like a baby spitting out its milk. ”Henry, I've got a big deal on. In a few days, I'll be in a position to loan you money. You and J. P. Morgan. Right now, I've got all the dough I need, too.”
”Well!” I said. This was the first time I'd ever heard Dido Alstrong intimate that he didn't need money. I was indeed relieved.
”Get your hat!” Dido said, suddenly taking advantage of the momentary magnanimity I felt upon discovering this was not a case of the bite. ”We'll have this over with in a jiffy.”
”Oh, now! I haven't time-”
”Look, Henry, all we do is walk downstairs and take a cab a couple of blocks. That's all. Your arm isn't going to drop off or anything, and it won't cost you. I'll even pay the cab fare.”
”In that case,” I advised him unwillingly, ”I can spare not more than ten minutes.”
Dido Alstrong seemed quite satisfied. It had always been his way, once he had achieved a point, to be a little nasty about what had led up to it, and he was so now. He said, ”Henry, don't you ever want to have a friend?”
”I have friends,” I said sharply.
He shot a glance at me. ”Name one!”
He had the worst way of discomfiting a person. I had friends, several very nice ones, scientific people of high caliber. But for the life of me, at the moment I couldn't think of the name of one.
”Don't be ridiculous,” I parried coolly. ”What are you getting at?”
He shrugged. ”Skip it.” What he had been getting at, of course, was to indicate that he was aware of my dislike, and had some preposterous notion of intimating that this was my shortcoming, not his.
He clapped his hat, a garish tweed-felt affair with a yellow feather c.o.c.ked in the band, on his head. I got my own dark Homburg, and advised Miss Lucy Jenkins, my lab a.s.sistant, that I was stepping out for a bit.
Dido Alstrong seemed amused by Miss Lucy Jenkins-as amused as his undercurrent of fright wouldpermit. While Lucy may be forty-five, and not a beauty, she is certainly precise and efficient.
”That babe's as homely as a mud fence, Henry,” Dido remarked when we were in the hall. ”Doesn't having scenery like that around depress you?”
”Certainly not!”
He punched the elevator call-b.u.t.ton, looked at me speculatively, and said, ”I guess not. I guess you wouldn't even know when you were depressed.”
”What are you doing with yourself these days, Dido?” I inquired. ”You didn't follow up chemistry, of course.”
”I sure did,” he replied. ”I'm laboratory chief for Farrar Products.”
”I don't believe I have heard of the firm,” I said.
”You should get around more, Henry. Farrar Products is on the way up. We're in the plastic packaging field, and doing well.”
My slightly superior smile suddenly folded up-I had remembered that I had heard of Farrar Products and the concern was, as Dido said, an up-and-comer. Really, nothing occurred to me to say as we got into the elevator. That this bombastic goof could have achieved the post of laboratory chief for such a concern was incredible.
We were jostled out of the elevator into the lobby by the other pa.s.sengers, or at least I was jostled, although Dido held his own.
It was raining outside. A slight, depressing sort of rain, it came down in soiled strings. We stood under the shelter of the awning of a shop, along with others, and Dido searched eagerly for a taxi.
Something rather odd happened.
A portly gentleman, standing a bit behind Dido and myself, and just out of line with Dido, gave out a sound. It was a sound like a boot being pulled out of mud. There was also another sound, rather as if one of the strings on a musical instrument had broken. And the stout man flung himself backward, or at least toppled back, against the shop window. The window broke. There was a considerable jangling of falling gla.s.s. All of this occurred rapidly, so that it was almost one thing, without exactly being so.
The effect on Dido Alstrong was remarkable. He turned the color of a much-used dish-rag.
Chapter II.
”OH, G.o.d!” Dido Alstrong croaked. He gripped my arm. ”Back inside!”
”Back-” I said uncertainly. ”But we were going somewhere. You wanted a cab. Yonder seems to be an empty taxi-”
Dido seized me in the most unceremonious manner. He bustled me back into the office building. I abhor rough physical contacts, and I resisted. But there was more strength in Dido Alstrong's soft-looking porcine body than one would think. That, and also frenzy.
The other people standing there under the awning were staring in confused fas.h.i.+on at the portly man, whonow lay on the sidewalk. The portly man was squirming about, and his mouth was making shapes, but no sounds.
”What-” I tried to a.s.semble composure. ”What happened to that chap?”
There were beads of sweat on Dido Alstrong's aggressive face. ”That guy . . . ?” He hesitated. ”He probably had a heart attack, or something,” Dido said.
”Really? It seemed very sudden-”
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