Galusha the Magnificent Part 43

"DEAR SIR:

"Pursuant to your instructions in our conversation of recent date I am enclosing check representing your share of the new Tinplate re-issue, sale of rights, transfer of old stock, bonus, etc. The transfer has been, as I told you I felt sure it would be, very advantageous and profitable to stockholders like yourself. The amount due you, as shown in statement attached, is--"

Galusha read no further. What did he care for Tinplate, profits, business, or anything like that! There was not a word in the letter concerning Wellmouth Development. It was a bitter disappointment.

But there was the third letter, the letter from Nevada. He opened that.

The first page which he looked at was that bearing the signature. Yes, the letter was from George L. Thomas, and George L. Thomas was Cousin Gussie's private secretary. At last!

The letter shook in Galusha's fingers as he began to read. Mr. Thomas was glad to hear from him, glad to learn that he was in better health, etc.... All right enough, this beginning, but not at all important.

Thomas also felt sure that he, Professor Bangs, would be grateful to know that Mr. Cabot's condition was, so his physician seemed to think, steadily improving. The improvement was slow, of course, which was to be expected, but... a long paragraph here which Galusha skipped. He was highly pleased to know that Cousin Gussie was better, but at present that was sufficient; he could not waste time in reading details of the convalescence. WHY didn't the man get down to business?

Ah, here it was! Mr. Thomas wrote:

"In your letter to Mr. Cabot I note your inquiry concerning the stock of the Wellmouth Development Company, its desirability as an investment, the likelihood of present sale, and so on. I know nothing of the matter personally, and am not in a position to ascertain at the present time.

Speaking in a general way, however, and with my only knowledge of the facts in the case that supplied by your letter, I should suggest that your friend keep his stock and await developments. I am quite sure that a forced sale--if such a sale could now be made at any price, which I doubt--would involve the sacrifice of almost the entire amount invested.

I should suggest holding on and waiting."

Galusha pa.s.sed his shaking hand across his perspiring forehead.

"Oh, dear me!" he said aloud.

"This would be my advice," went on the letter, "but if you wish a more positive answer I suggest your writing Mr. Minor at our Boston office.

He will be very glad to look into the matter for you, I am sure, although I am practically certain his views will agree with mine. Of course, as you will understand, it is quite impossible to mention your inquiry to Mr. Cabot. He is here to regain his health, which is still very far from normal, his doctor is with him, and the one word which is positively forbidden is 'Business.' Mr. Cabot is supposed to forget that there is such a thing. By the way he spoke of you only the other day, and jokingly said he wondered how mummies and quahaugs were mixing.

The fact that he is beginning to joke once more we all consider most encouraging...."

A paragraph or two more of this sort of thing and then Mr. Thomas'

signature. Galusha stared at the letter dully. This--this was what he and Martha Phipps had awaited so long! This was the outcome of his brilliant idea which was to save the Phipps' home... and its owner's peace of mind... and Primmie... and ....

Oh, dear me! dear me!

Galusha walked slowly across the room to the chair by the window, and, sitting down, continued to stare hopelessly at the letter in his hand.

He read it for the second time, but this rereading brought no comfort whatever. Rather, it served to bring home to him the hard realities of the whole wretched affair. Cousin Gussie's interest was what he had banked on, and that interest was absolutely unapproachable. To write Minor at the Boston office was a possibility, of course, but, in his present frame of mind Galusha felt no hope that such a proceeding would help. Thomas had written what amounted to that very thing; Thomas was "practically certain" that Minor's views would agree with his. And, besides, to write Minor meant another long wait, and Martha Phipps must be very close to her limit of waiting. How could he summon the courage to descend to the sitting room and tell her that she must prepare for another period of waiting, with almost certain disappointment at the end?

A temperament like Galusha Bangs' is capable of soaring to the heights and descending to the depths. Just now the elevator was going down, and down it continued to go to the very subcellar. It was dark in that subcellar, not a ray of light anywhere. Galusha realized now, or thought he did, that all his great scheme for helping Martha to dispose of her Development shares had been based upon nothing substantial, nothing but rainbow-tinted hopes which, in turn, were based upon nothing but wishes.

Omitting the hopes and wishes, what was there left? Just what the president of the Trumet Trust Company had told Martha and what Raish Pulcifer, when angered into truthtelling, had told him. That is, that the shares of the Wellmouth Development Company might be worth something some day, but that now they were worth nothing, because no one would buy them.

Yes... yes, that was the truth.... But how could he go down to the sitting room and tell Martha Phipps that truth, having already told her so much that was quite different?

If she would only let him lend her the five thousand dollars, or whatever it was. He did not know how much Cousin Gussie was taking care of for him at present, but there had been a large sum at the time of Aunt Clarissa's death. He remembered that the figures had quite frightened him then. He had not thought much about them since, because they did not interest him. He always had enough for his needs and more than enough, and dividends, and interests, and investments and all such things bored him and made him nervous. But, now that he WAS interested in an investment--Martha Phipps' investment--it brought home to him the undisputable fact that he, Galusha Bangs, had plenty of money to lend, if he wished to lend it.

And if Cousin Gussie, or Cousin Gussie's representatives, would let him have it for such a purpose! Cousin Gussie always made such an unpleasant disturbance when he expressed a desire for any of his money, asked so many embarra.s.sing questions as to what was to be done with it, and the like. If he should go now and ask for five thousand dollars to lend Martha Phipps, what...

But Martha Phipps would not accept a loan, anyway. She had told him that very thing, and he knew her well enough by this time to know she meant what she said.

Yet there remained the imminent and dreadful question: How, how, HOW could he go down to where she was sitting waiting and tell her that her hopes, hopes which he had raised, were based solely upon the vaporings of an optimistic donkey?

In his wrathful disgust with that donkey he s.h.i.+fted angrily in his chair and his foot struck a bit of paper upon the floor. It rustled and the rustle attracted his attention. Absently he stepped and picked up the paper. It was the slip which had fallen from the Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot letter and was a check drawn to his order for fourteen thousand, three hundred and ten dollars and thirty-eight cents, his share of the Tinplate "melon."

Fifteen more minutes pa.s.sed before Mr. Bangs came down to the sitting room, but when he did he came in a great hurry. He dashed into the apartment and announced his intention of starting for Boston at once.

"And--and if you will be so kind as to let me have those--ah--shares of yours, Miss Martha," he said.

Martha looked at him. She had been rather pale when he entered, but now the color rushed to her face.

"Shares?" she repeated. "Do you mean--"

"Those--ah--Development shares of yours--yes. If you will be good enough to let me take them with me--"

"Take them with you?... Oh, Mr. Bangs, you don't mean you have heard from your cousin and that he is goin' to--"

"Yes--ah--yes," broke in Galusha, hastily. "I have heard. I am to--that is, I must take the shares with me and go to Boston at once. If you will be willing to entrust them to me, Miss Martha."

"I'll get 'em this minute." She started toward the stairs, but paused and turned.

"Is it really settled, Mr. Bangs?" she asked, as if scarcely daring to believe in the possibility. "Are they really goin' to buy that Wellmouth stock of mine?"

"Why--why--" Galusha was yawing badly, but he clutched the helm and kept on the course; "I--ah--hope so, Miss Martha, I hope so."

"And pay me--pay me MONEY for it?"

"I presume so. I hope so. If you will--"

"I declare, it doesn't seem possible! Who, for mercy sakes, is goin' to buy it? Mr. Cabot, himself?"

He had been expecting this and was prepared for it. He had rehea.r.s.ed his answer many times before coming downstairs. He held up a protesting hand.

"I am very sorry," he said, "but--but, you see, that is a--ah--secret, I understand. Of course, they did not write me who was to buy the stock and so--and so--"

"And so you don't know. Well, it doesn't make a bit of difference, really. The Lord knows I shouldn't care so long as I sell it honestly and don't cheat anybody. And a big house like Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot ought to know what they're doin' when they buy, or let any of their customers buy. I'll get the certificate this very minute, Mr. Bangs."

She hastened up the stairs. Galusha wiped his forehead and breathed heavily. There was a knock on the door leading to the dining room; it opened and Primmie's head appeared.

"I heard her go upstairs," she whispered, hoa.r.s.ely. "Is it all right, Mr. Bangs? Was there good news in that What-you-call-it-Bancroft letter, Mr. Bangs? Was there?"

"Go away, Primmie! Go AWAY!"

"I'm a-goin'. But was there?"

"Yes--ah--no--I--I guess so."

"Lord everlastin' of Isrul! My savin' soul!"

Martha's footsteps on the stairs caused the head to disappear and the door to close. Miss Phipps appeared, her hand clasping a highly ornate doc.u.ment.