Part 8 (1/2)
Jack frowned as though deeply annoyed, and his answer came with an incisive coldness that froze Mr. Dobbins almost to the marrow.
”Go back to that 'phone and tell the gentleman that it will take the biggest search-light in the amalgamated navies of the world to enable him to get even a bird's-eye view of me until I get good and ready,” he said. ”Er--tell him he can come to my office at ten-thirty to-morrow morning if he wants to, only he mustn't be late. Just impress that on his mind.”
Mr. Dobbins choked and coughed apoplectically.
”Don't let us interfere with any of your engagements, Mr. Vanderpoel,”
he sputtered.
”That's all right, Mr. Dobbins,” said Jack.
”I wish you'd invest seven or eight million for me,” said Dobbins, with a sheepish glance at Jack. ”I know it isn't much, but--”
”Risky business, speculating, Mr. Dobbins,” said Jack, bravely, although the suggestion had nearly knocked him off his chair. ”Better hang on to your pennies, now that you've got 'em.”
”Oh, I've got eight or ten more where they came from,” chuckled the old man.
”Then, sir,” said Jack, as calmly as he knew how, ”the best investment for you is in Miss Amanda Dobbins Preferred, a stock of priceless value.”
”I don't think I quite understand,” said the old man, scratching his head in perplexity.
”Settle five million on your daughter,” explained Jack. ”When you've got her fixed comfortably in life, go in and do as you please with the rest of your fortune. Play the game as hard as you like, and, win or lose, no harm can come to her--and _if_ you lose, why, she'll be able to take care of you.”
”I've already given her four million, haven't I, Amandy?” said the old gentleman, proudly.
”Yes, Popper,” said the girl, and Jack's heart began to play the anvil chorus on the xylophone of his ribs. What a chance!
”How about it, Mr. Vanderpoel,” persisted the old man; ”can you put me wise?”
”Oh, well,” said Jack, ”if you really insist I'll let you into a little blind pool I'm in, but not for very much--say a couple of millions. Only I won't take a penny of your money if you are like all the rest of these people here who want to be shown how things are every five minutes of the day. I'll take your two million and you can call it a loan, if you want to. Your receipt will be my demand note for the full amount. You see I know what I'm about, and I'm careful.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”COULDN'T MAKE IT THREE MILLION, COULD YOU?” SUGGESTED MR. DOBBINS]
”Couldn't make it three million, could you?” suggested Mr. Dobbins, with a pleading note in his voice which Jack found difficult to resist. ”I happen to have that amount idle--”
”Well, I'll tell you what I'll do,” said Jack, patronizingly. ”I was going to pull this thing off myself because it is one of the few dead-sure things left in this world, but first the Midas people b.u.t.ted in, then Bondifeller wanted a slice, and Rockernegie wore out his library carpet running to the 'phone to ring me up about it, until I told Central I'd have the company indicted as a nuisance if they let the old man have my number again. None the less, for merely diplomatic reasons, I'm going to let 'em all in for a small share. Just enough to keep them satisfied with themselves. Exactly what the basis will be I haven't yet decided, but if you are willing to take your chances with them--well, you may hand me six certified checks for five hundred thousand dollars apiece, so that I can spread the whole amount around in my various bank and trust company accounts.”
”Now what, Puss?” asked Jack the next afternoon, as he and his feline friend held a consultation in the apartment. ”I've got three million to my credit in six banks. What's the next step--Algiers or Venezuela?”
”Why,” said puss, ”it seems to me that a man with three million in hand can afford to stay in New York over Christmas, anyhow.”
”Yes, I know,” said Jack. ”But the old man--he's got to have some profit some time or other, hasn't he?”
Puss sighed deeply. ”It is very evident, my dear Jack,” said he, ”that you are no financier. Settle a million on yourself and use the remainder to pay dividends to Mr. Dobbins. He'd probably think twenty-five per cent. on his investment was a pretty fair return, and if at the end of the first year you give him back seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars he'll be satisfied. Then if you hand him over a full million the second year--well--”
”Well what?” gasped Jack.