Scattergood Baines Part 50

"If I can help--"

"You bet you kin.... We'll jest let Ovid lie hid while we kind of maneuver around Peaney some--commencin' right soon. Peaney ever aspire to take you to dinner?"

"Yes," she said, shortly.

"Git organized to go with him to-night...."

It was in the neighborhood of five o'clock when Mr. Peaney came into the Mountain House and stopped at the cigar counter for cigarettes.

"Any more friendly to-day, sister?" he asked.

Pansy smiled and leaned across the case. "The trouble with you," she said, in a low tone, "is that you're a piker."

"Piker--me?"

"Always after small change."

"Just show me some real money once," he said, flamboyantly.

"It would scare you," she said.

"Show me some--you'd see how it would scare me."

"I wonder," she said, musingly, "if you have the nerve?"

"For what?" he said, with quickened interest.

"To go after a wad that I know of?"

"Say," he said, his eyes narrowing, his face a.s.suming a look of cupidity and cunning, "do you know something? If you do, come on out where we can eat and talk. If there's anything in it I'll split with you."

"I know you will," she said, promptly. "Fifty-fifty.... In an hour, at Case's restaurant."

At the hour set Pansy and Mr. Peaney found a corner table in the little restaurant, and when they had ordered Peaney asked, "Well, what you got on your mind?"

"A big farmer from the backwoods--with a trunkful of money. Don't know how he got it. Must have sold the family wood lot, but he's got it with him ... and he came down to invest it."

"No."

"Honest Injun."

"How much?"

"From what he said it's more than ten thousand dollars."

"Lead me to him."

"He'll need some playing with--thinks he's sharp.... But I've been talking to him. Guess he took a liking to me. Wanted to take me to dinner--and he did."

"Say!" exclaimed Mr. Peaney, in admiration, "I had you sized all wrong."

"It'll take nerve," Pansy said.

"It's what I've got most of."

"He's no Ovid Nixon."

"Eh?... What d'you know about Ovid Nixon?"

"I know he was too green to burn and that you and he were together a lot.... Isn't that enough?"

He smiled complacently, seeing a compliment. "He was easy--but he got to be a nuisance."

"Making trouble?"

"No.... Scared."

"I _see_," she nodded, wisely. "Lost more than he had, was that it? And then helped himself to what he didn't have?"

"I'm not supposed to know where it came from. None of my business."

"Of course not"--her tone was rank flattery. "Wants you to take care of him. Threatens to squeal. I know.... So you've got to hide him out."

"You are a wise one. Where'd you get it?"

"I didn't always sell cigars for a living.... He isn't apt to break loose and spoil this thing, is he?"

"Too scared to show his face.... If we can pull this across he can show it whenever he wants to--I'll be gone."

So Ovid Nixon was here--in town. It was as she had reasoned. If here, he was somewhere in the building Mr. Peaney occupied as a bucket shop.

"It's understood we divide--if I introduce my farmer to you--and show you how to get it."

"You bet, sister."

"Have you any money? Nothing makes people so confident and trustful as the sight of money?"

"I've got it," he said, complacently.

"Then you come to the hotel this evening.... Just do as I say. I'll manage it. In a couple of days--if you have the nerve and do exactly what I say--you can forget Ovid Nixon and take a long journey."

Two hours later, when Peaney entered the lobby of the Mountain House, he saw a very fat, uncouthly dressed backwoodsman talking to Pansy. She signaled him and he walked over nonchalantly.

"Mr. Baines," said Pansy, "here's the gentleman I was speaking about. He can advise you. He's a broker, and everybody trusts him." She lowered her voice. "He's very rich, himself. Made it in stocks. I guess he knows what's going on right in Mr. Rockefeller's private office.... You couldn't do better than to talk business with him.... Mr. Peaney, Mr.

Baines."