Part 27 (1/2)

He regarded me curiously.

”But the boy is immune to flattery. There isn't a vain bone in his body. I confess he puzzles me. But I think you'll find he's quite stubborn about it.”

”Stubborn, yes, but--”

My remark was cut short by a ring of the bell, immediately answered by Ballard's man, and Jerry entered. He was, I think, attired in one of Jack's ”Symphonies,” wore a blossom in his b.u.t.tonhole, swung a stick jauntily, and altogether radiated health and good humor, greeting us both in high spirits.

”Well, fairy G.o.dfathers, what's my gift today?” he laughed. ”A golden goose, a magic ring, or a beautiful Cinderella hidden behind the curtain?” and he poked at the portiere playfully. ”But you have the appearance of conspirators. Is it only a lecture?”

”I've just been telling Roger,” Jack began gravely, ”about your fight with Clancy, Jerry.”

I saw the boy's jaw muscles clamp, but he replied very quietly.

”Yes, Uncle Jack. He objects, I suppose.”

”Not object,” I said quickly. ”It's the wrong word, Jerry. You're your own master, of course. We were just wondering whether you hadn't undervalued our friends.h.i.+p in not asking our advice before making your plans.”

Jerry followed a pattern in the rug with the point of his stick.

”I wish you hadn't put it just that way, Roger.”

”I don't know how else to put it. That's the fact, isn't it, Jerry?”

”No. I don't undervalue your friends.h.i.+p. You know that, Roger, you too. Uncle Jack. I suppose I should have said something about it. But I--I just sort of drifted into it. I think walloping Sagorski spoiled me--made me rather keen to have a try at somebody who had licked him.

Clancy's almost, if not quite, the best in his cla.s.s. I'll get well thrashed, I guess, but it's going to be a lot of fun trying--and if n.o.body knows who I am, I can't see what harm it does.”

I couldn't tell what there was in his tone and manner that made me think he was playing a part not his own. I was not yet used to Jerry out in the world, but as compared with the Jerry of Horsham Manor, he didn't ring true.

”You can't keep people from knowing, Jerry,” I said. ”Your picture will be on every sporting page in the United States.”

”Oh, we've fixed that with a photographer. Flynn had a picture of a cousin of his who is dead--young chap--looked something like me.

They're faking the thing.”

The boy was getting a new code of morals as well as a new vocabulary.

”You can't hide a lie, Jerry.”

”I'm not harming anybody,” he muttered.

”n.o.body but yourself,” I said sternly.

”I don't see that,” he growled, clasping his great fists over his knees.

”It's the truth. You'll harm yourself irrevocably. The thing will come out somehow. Jim Robinson isn't Jerry Benham. He's the New York and South Western Railroad Company, the Seaboard Transportation Line, the United Oil Company--”

”I'd get Clancy's goat in the first round if he thought I was all that, wouldn't I?” Jerry grinned sheepishly, while Jack Ballard fought back a smile.

”If you won't consider your own interests, what you must consider is that you've no right to jeopardize the property interests of those who have put their money and their faith behind these enterprises which you control. You're already in a responsible position. You're making yourself a mountebank, a laughing-stock. No one will ever trust you in a position of responsibility again.”

”I'm sorry, Roger, if you think things are as bad as that,” said Jerry coolly. ”I don't. And besides, I'm too far in this thing to back out now.”