Part 26 (2/2)
”All right,” replied Mr. Bland, ”I thought I'd pa.s.s you the tip, that's all. It ain't nothing to me what you do. But it's all over, and you've lost out. I'm sorry you have--but I take Hayden's orders.”
”d.a.m.n Hayden!” snarled the mayor. ”It was his idea to make a three-act play out of this thing. He's responsible for this silly trip to Baldpate. This audience we've been acting for--he let us in for them.”
”I know,” said Bland. ”But you can't deny that Baldpate Inn looked like the ideal spot at first. Secluded, off the beaten path, you know, and all that.”
”Yes,” sneered the mayor, ”as secluded as a Sunday-school the Sunday before Christmas.”
”Well, who could have guessed it?” went on Mr. Bland. ”As I say, I don't care what you do. I just pa.s.sed you the tip. I've got that nice little package of the long green--I've got it where you'll never find it. Yes, sir, it's returned to the loving hands of little Joe Bland, that brought it here first. It ain't going to roam no more. So what's the use of your sticking around?”
”How did you get hold of it?” inquired Mr. Lou Max.
”I had my eye on this little professor person,” explained Mr. Bland.
”This morning when Magee went up the mountain I trailed the high-brow to Magee's room. When I busted in, unannounced by the butler, he was making his getaway. I don't like to talk about what followed. He's an old man, and I sure didn't mean to break his gla.s.ses, nor scratch his dome of thought. There's ideas in that dome go back to the time of Anthony J.
Chaucer. But--he's always talking about that literature chair of his--why couldn't he stay at home and sit in it? Anyhow, I got the bundle all right, all right. I wonder what the little fossil wants with it.”
”The Doc's gla.s.ses _was_ broke,” said Max, evidently to the mayor of Reuton.
”Um-m,” came Cargan's voice. ”Bland, how much do you make working for this nice kind gentleman, Mr. Hayden?”
”Oh, about two thousand a year, with pickings,” replied Bland.
”Yes?” went on Mr. Cargan. ”I ain't no Charles Dana Gibson with words.
My talk's a little rough and sketchy, I guess. But here's the outline, plain as I can make it. Two thousand a year from Hayden. Twenty thousand in two seconds if you hand that package to me.”
”No,” objected Bland. ”I've been honest--after a fas.h.i.+on. I can't quite stand for that. I'm working for Hayden.”
”Don't be a fool,” sneered Max.
”Of course,” said the mayor, ”I appreciate your scruples, having had a few in my day myself, though you'd never think so to read the _Star_.
But look at it sensible. The money belongs to me. If you was to hand it over you'd be just doing plain justice. What right has Hayden on his side? I did what was agreed--do I get my pay? No. Who are you to defeat the ends of justice this way? That's how you ought to look at it. You give me what's my due--and you put twenty thousand in your pocket by an honest act. Hayden comes. He asks for the bundle. You point to the dynamited safe. You did your best.”
”No,” said Bland, but his tone was less firm. ”I can't go back on Hayden. No--it wouldn't--”
”Twenty thousand,” repeated Cargan. ”Ten years' salary the way you're going ahead at present. A lot of money for a young man. If I was you I wouldn't hesitate a minute. Think. What's Hayden ever done for you?
He'll throw you down some day, the way he's thrown me.”
”I--I--don't know--” wavered Bland. Mr. Magee, in the card-room, knew that Hayden's emissary was tottering on the brink.
”You could set up in business,” whined Mr. Max. ”Why, if I'd had that much money at your age, I'd be a millionaire to-day.”
”You get the package,” suggested the mayor, ”take twenty thousand out, and slip the rest to me. No questions asked. I guess there ain't n.o.body mixed up in this affair will go up on the housetops and shout about it when we get back to Reuton.”
”Well,--” began Bland. He was lost. Suddenly the quiet of Baldpate Mountain was a.s.sailed by a loud pounding at the inn door, and a voice crying, ”Bland. Let me in.”
”There's Hayden now,” cried Mr. Bland.
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