Part 7 (1/2)
”All right,” said puss. ”Keep a stiff upper lip, my boy, and all will be well. Good-bye. Like most cats, I have a few fences to take care of this afternoon and I must be off. I've found a nice little kitten up the street who is going to manicure my nails.”
With these words the amazing creature donned his hat and coat and, resuming his boots, strode out with a magnificent swagger.
At three o'clock in the afternoon Jack, in accordance with his instructions, boarded the sight-seeing coach at Madison Square, and, recognizing the young woman referred to by puss sitting on the front seat of the car, seated himself beside her.
”When do we start, Popper?” asked the girl, with a demure glance at Jack.
”Putty soon, I guess,” said the old gentleman, who sat on her other side. ”But there ain't never any tellin'. These New York guys does things putty much as they please.”
”Humph!” muttered Jack under his breath. ”He sounds like real money from Goldfields.”
In a few moments the car started, and as they pa.s.sed around the Flatiron Building Jack was still further amazed to recognize in the voice of the lecturer none other than that of the faithful puss.
”This building,” Jack heard him saying boldly, ”is the famous Flatiron Building, erected at great expense by the Fuller Company and lately purchased for five million dollars by the famous Missouri financier and capitalist, Mr. Horace Vanderpoel.”
”_Gee-rusalem!_” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jack.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”THE HANDSOMEST TOWER IN THE WORLD”]
”To the right is the wonderful tower of the Metropolitan Life Insurance Building--the handsomest tower in the world,” continued puss, bellowing his words into Jack's ears playfully through his megaphone; ”while off across the square to the north the structure in yellow brick is the famous Madison Square Garden, soon to be torn down to make room for the new Vanderpoel office building, sixty-four stories high, containing theatres, a.s.sembly halls, churches, convention halls, restaurants, apartments, and so on, besides offices, costing between ten and twenty millions of dollars.”
”Vanderpoel Building, eh?” said the old gentleman. ”Any relation to the feller that's bought the Flatiron?”
”Same man, sir. He's the only Vanderpoel,” replied puss.
”Must have seven or eight dollars to spare,” said the sight-seer.
”Ten or twelve, sir,” laughed puss. ”It is said that he is trying to buy a controlling interest in the whole city. Negotiating for the Astor estate, they say.”
”Great Scott!” gasped the sight-seer. ”What's he going to do with it when he gets it?”
”Don't know, sir,” replied puss, gayly. ”Kind of suspect he's thinking of annexing it to Kansas City, sir.”
The car proceeded until the party reached the Plaza.
”On the left is the Plaza Hotel, another property of the Vanderpoel syndicate,” said puss; ”said to have cost the Kansas City millionaire ten millions, and paid for in cash.”
”_Gee!_” gasped the young woman's father, and Jack indorsed the observation unreservedly.
”That's a pretty house, Popper,” said the young woman as the car reached the Ninety-sixth Street entrance to the Park, pointing toward Mr.
Rockernegie's residence.
”Formerly the residence of Andrew Rockernegie,” said puss, ”but recently sold to Mr. Vanderpoel for three million dollars.”
”It's mighty funny I never heard of this Vanderpoel feller before,” said the old man.
”Just come into his fortune, sir,” vouchsafed puss. ”Very young man just come of age, sir.”
The old man leaned forward and, addressing Jack, inquired: