Galusha the Magnificent Part 40

"Yes--ah--and now you do know. Good-day, Mr. Pulcifer."

He was at the door when the surprised and, to tell the truth, somewhat disconcerted Horatio called after him.

"Here! Hold on, Perfessor," he hailed; "don't go off mad. I didn't mean nothin'. Er--er--say, Perfessor, I don't know's there's any use in your tellin' Martha what I said about them Development shares bein' cheap at eighteen. Of course, that was all--er--more or less of a joke, you understand, and--Eh? What say?"

"I said I understood, Mr. Pulcifer."

"Yes--er--yes, yes. Glad you do; I thought you would. Now I tell you what to do: You tell Martha... you tell her... say, what ARE you goin'

to tell her?"

"Nothing. Good-day, Mr. Pulcifer."

Galusha did not tell Martha of the interview in the real estate dealer's office, but the recollection of it did not tend to make him more easy in his mind concerning her investment in Wellmouth Development Company.

And, as another week went by and still Cousin Gussie did not reply to the letter of inquiry, his uneasiness grew with his impatience. Another and more practical person would have called the Boston bankers by telephone, but Galusha did not think of that. Martha offered no suggestions; her advice was to wait.

"I don't think we ought to hurry your cousin, Mr. Bangs," she said.

"He's probably lookin' into things, and he'll write when the time comes."

Galusha devoutly wished the time would come soon. He somewhat felt a great responsibility in the matter. This sense of responsibility caused him to a.s.sume more and more optimism as his nervousness increased. Each day of waiting found him covering his disappointment and anxiety with a more cheerful prophecy.

"I've been thinking, Miss Martha," he said, "that Cousin Gussie must be MOST interested in the--ah--Development Company. I really believe that he may be considering going into it himself--ah--extensively, so to speak. The more he delays replying to our letter, the more certain I am that this is the case. You see, it is quite logical. Dear me, yes. If he were not interested at all he would have replied at once, any one would.

And if only a little interested, he would have replied--say, at the end of a week. But now he has taken almost three weeks, so--so--well, _I_ think we may infer GREAT interest, personal interest on his part. Now, don't you think so, Miss Martha?"

Martha shrugged. "Accordin' to that reasonin," she said, "if he never answers at all it'll be because he's interested to death. Well, it begins to look as if that might be it. There, there, Mr. Bangs, I mustn't talk that way, must I? We won't give up the s.h.i.+p as long's the pumps work, as father used to say."

It was the first symptom of discouragement she had shown. The next morning Galusha crept downstairs before daylight, left a note on the dining table saying he would be back next day, and started on his long tramp to the railway station. At noon of that day he entered the Boston office of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot.

Disappointment met him at the threshold, so to speak. The young, extremely young, gentleman at the desk by the door, informed him that Mr. Augustus Cabot was not in. Pressed still further, he admitted that he would not be in that day. No, he would not be in that week. No, he was not in Boston. Where was he? Well, he had gone away and the date of his return was extremely uncertain.

Galusha, his spirits at a low ebb, stroked his chin in sad perplexity.

"Dear me! Dear me!" he observed. And then added:

"Is--is anybody in?"

Considering that the s.p.a.ce behind the mahogany and bra.s.s railings was crowded with clerks and that from the various inner offices people were constantly coming and going, the question was peculiar. The young guardian of the portal seemed to find it so. He regarded Mr. Bangs with the puzzled stare of one not certain whether he has to do with a would-be joker or an imbecile.

"Say, who do you want to see?" he demanded.

"Why, Mr. Cabot--Mr. Augustus Cabot."

"Mr. Cabot's away, I tell you. He's out of town."

A tall, thin man of middle age, who had just emerged from one of the private offices, paused beside them. He looked at Galusha through his eyegla.s.ses, and then held out his hand.

"Why, Bangs!" he exclaimed. "It IS Bangs, isn't it? Glad to see you.

Don't you know me? I'm Minor. How are you?"

Galusha remembered him, of course. Minor had been a young a.s.sistant bookkeeper in those far-off and dismal days when he, Galusha, had worked--or attempted to work--in that very office. That was--mercy, that was a great many years ago! Minor had changed very much.

They shook hands and Galusha was invited to come into Mr. Minor's private office.

"Let me see," said the latter, "you are--you are--What is your business now? I did hear, but I've forgotten."

Galusha told of his connection with the National Inst.i.tute.

"I do--ah--archaeological work," he added. "Egyptology is my specialty."

Minor nodded. "Yes, yes," he said, doubtfully. "Just so."

Plainly he regarded it as a weird sort of business.

"And you are still a--ah--banker?" queried Galusha.

"Yes. Very much so. I'm second vice president here now."

"Dear me! dear me! You have been in this place ever since? Well, well!"

A pause, during which each regarded the other, trying not to show the pity they felt. Then Minor asked if there was anything he could do for his former a.s.sociate. Galusha explained that he had come to town to see his cousin, Mr. Augustus Cabot, on a business matter. Mr. Minor was surprised, momentarily.

"That's so," he said, "he is a relative of yours, isn't he? I had forgotten."

"Yes, yes, he is. He--ah--you see, he looks after things for me--investments and--all that."

"Humph! Well, if you wanted to see him personally, you're out of luck.

He is away out in the Sierras, somewhere. Been there for a month and he won't come back till the doctors tell him he may. Goodness knows when that will be."

Cousin Gussie had, it appeared, suffered a severe nervous breakdown.

The physicians had ordered immediate dropping of business and business cares.

"He must drop everything, they said, and cut, if he wanted to head off something a good deal more serious. He must get out of doors and stay there; go to bed early at night--instead of early in the morning, which had been more in his line--and rough it generally."

"Why--yes, yes, indeed. That was almost precisely what the doctors told me I must do. Rest and--ah--good air, you know, and pleasant people. _I_ was very fortunate, really. I am at--ah--Gould's Bluffs, Cape Cod, you know."

"Yes? Well, he's away out in California or Nevada or thereabouts. His secretary is with him--Thomas, the fellow he's had so many years; you remember him. Thomas has gone along to see that the chief--Mr. Cabot, I mean--doesn't get any business letters or wires or anything of that sort. He looks out for those that do come, the personal matters."

"Oh! Then perhaps my letter has been forwarded out there. That would explain why I have received no answer. Yes, of course."

"Sure! Thomas will write you by and by, no doubt. But now that you are here, why don't you see Barbour? Barbour is in charge of the chief's outside affairs while Thomas is away. That is, he is in charge of everything that can be handled here. The most important stuff goes to Thomas, of course. But come in and see Barbour. Perhaps he can tell you what you want to know."

Mr. Barbour was a bald-headed, worried-looking little man, who, in the seclusion of a rear office, sat behind a big desk. Minor introduced Galusha and Mr. Barbour extended a moist and flabby hand. Minor excused himself and hastened out to the really important matters of life.

Galusha told Barbour the story of his letter to Cousin Gussie. He did not tell what was in the letter, further than to say that it was an inquiry concerning a certain investment security.

Barbour shook his head.

"Everything marked 'Personal' I forward to Thomas," he said. "He'll write you pretty soon, although I'm pretty sure he won't trouble the chief with your question. Doctors are mighty strict about that. Nothing we here can do to help, is there? Perhaps Mr. Minor might answer your question."

Galusha was thinking of Minor that very moment, but he shook his head.

Martha had asked that no one but Cousin Gussie be told of her trouble.