Читать книгу The Substitute Millionaire - Footner Hulbert - Страница 5

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So Jack Norman came out of the National New York Bank eighty millions richer than he went in. He left the building walking on air, and being unaccustomed to that form of exercise it is not surprising that he staggered a little, and collided with more than one matter-of-fact Wall Street figure. A delightful insane phantasmagoria whirled through his brain, blinding him to his earthly surroundings. He walked five blocks before he had the least idea where he was going. Here a wild taxi-cab almost ran him down, and he was brought back to earth with a bump.

"Good Lord! suppose I'd been laid out before I had a chance to spend a dollar!" he thought with horror.

He looked at his watch. It was only half-past ten. It had taken him less than an hour to acquire eighty millions. An hour and a half must still pass before he could satisfy his great need of telling Kate what had happened—that is unless he descended on her office and carried her off bodily in a taxi-cab, like young Lochinvar. But he was doubtful how Kate would take this. He was a little afraid of Kate.

In the meantime he had to see his lawyer. But he couldn't very well go and ask a man to take charge of an eighty million dollar estate while he looked like a tramp. Clothes!—enchanting thought; he was able to buy anything in New York that caught his fancy. It need not be supposed that the fair sex enjoys a monopoly of this passion; the young male, being more restricted in his choice, brings to it a deeper, more concentrated passion. The difference in shirt patterns! The design of a cravat of which only four square inches is shown!

He retreated into the shelter of a doorway to consider this matter, watching the passers-by meanwhile for inspiration. But he did not see what he wanted. The young men looked either grubby or flash. Jack discovered that he had a definite taste in clothes that he had never been able to indulge.

He was aware of course of the subtle differences between ready-made and made-to-order. But while he took the time to search out the best tailor in New York he had to have something. Dimly he remembered having heard of a fine old firm that outfitted men from top to toe. It was on Madison avenue. He looked about for the nearest subway station, and then remembered with a delightful start that there were such things as taxi-cabs in the world, and his pocket was full of money.

He held up a negligent finger to a passing cab. He got in and, leaning back luxuriously, wondered how the people who looked at him would look if they knew!

At a few minutes before noon, an elegantly dressed young fellow, conspicuous for his graceful figure and sparkling brown eyes, was walking nervously up and down Centre street; ten paces each way and back. A taxi-cab waited at the curb beside him. In one hand the young man carried a pair of yellow chamois gloves, and swung a yellow malacca stick in the other. He wore a boutonnière of corn-flowers.

As he waited his nervousness increased. It suddenly occurred to him that to greet Kate with a flourish of the new Fedora, and hand her into the waiting taxi might create a scandal in the eyes of her fellow workers. Indeed he was not at all sure but that she might turn him down flat. At the same time he began to worry about the yellow gloves and the yellow stick—a thought too conspicuous for Centre street, perhaps.

Finally he went to the cab and, unobtrusively dropping the stick inside, paid the man off and let him go. He then thrust the gloves and the boutonnière in his pocket, and felt much better.

When Kate finally did come down-stairs, her first glance overlooked the new clothes entirely, and went straight to his eyes. Seeing the beaming smile there, her eyes fell demurely. Then did she perceive the finery from the feet up, but was too well bred to make any comment. Jack was obliged to ask her very off-hand:

"Notice any change?"

"You look very nice to-day."

"Oh, I got tired going round like a rag-picker!"

She made no further remark, and Jack who had counted on creating more of an effect than this, felt a little aggrieved. You never could get any change out of this girl, he reflected. But just let her wait! She was due to be surprised for once in her young life!

At the corner he held her in talk for a moment, while he searched for a taxi out of the tail of his eye.

"Let's not go to Geiger's to-day."

"Geiger's is all right."

"I'm sick of the joint!"

"It's as good as any of the places around here."

"Let's go down-town."

"But you know I only have an hour."

A taxi came bowling through from the Bowery with its little "vacant" flag raised. Jack held up a finger. It drew up beside them with squealing brakes, and the chauffeur opened the door. Kate who had not observed Jack's signal, turned her back on it.

"Get in," said Jack.

That was when she received her first shock. Her eyes opened very wide. "Why, Mr. Norman!" she began.

"Get in!" said Jack so peremptorily, that in her state of fluster she actually obeyed.

"Café Savarin," said Jack to the chauffeur.

The cab started with a jerk, throwing them back on the cushions. "Let me out!" she said—but not very strongly.

He affected not to hear. There was a delicious satisfaction in seeing the self-possessed little lady overcome with confusion, if only for a moment.

"To-morrow I'll come for you in my own car," he said, nonchalantly.

"Are you crazy?" she murmured, really alarmed.

He laughed. "Can't I have a car as well as anybody?"

"But I thought—that is—you always said——"

"That I was as poor as Job's turkey, eh? Only a stall. I just worked for Fisher for the sociological experience. I don't have to work really."

She looked at him with troubled eyes.

He couldn't resist the temptation to tease her a little. "My old man's a multi-millionaire," he rattled on. "Of course I get sick of that life sometimes, and scout about a bit."

Her eyes became so reproachful his heart smote him.

"Oh, that's only a joke," he said quickly. "Lord knows the poverty was real enough—but it's over for good!" "For both of us," he would have liked to add, but did not quite dare. "Look!" he cried, drawing his hand out of his pocket with the great roll of yellow-backed bills. "My income for half an hour!"

"Where did you get it?" she said aghast

He laughed again. "Honest, I didn't steal it."

"Please!"

He told her at last. The story sounded strange in his own ears. When he came to the end he saw to his astonishment that there were tears in her eyes.

"Why—why, what's the matter?" he cried.

"I don't know," she said smiling through the rain. "Am I not silly? But I suppose it means change. And I hate changes!"

"A change for the better, only. If you knew how I hated poverty!"

Her eyes dropped. "I, too," that meant, but she did not care to tell him so, audibly.

"If you knew how mean I felt every day when we went to that beanery together, and you had to pay for your own lunch!"

"But what was the difference? We both work for our living."

"A man feels differently. Why I never would ask you if I could come to see you in the evenings, because I couldn't take you out anywhere. I was afraid I couldn't keep my end up with your gang."

"I haven't any gang," she murmured.

"Well all that's ended now! Now there's no limit but the sky! And here we are. The lawyer guy told me this was the swellest place down-town."

A fresh panic seized her. "I can't eat in a place like this! I'm not fit to be seen!"

"Nonsense! You always look like a lady!"

Circumstances were too strong for her. She found herself being wafted across the sidewalk, and was delivered into the hands of the maid in the lobby, before she could think of an effective resistance. Indeed they were seated at a snowy little board brightened by an electric candle, before she really got her breath. At Jack's elbow stood a post-graduate waiter with a deferential bend in his back, and at just the right distance an orchestra was discussing the Meditation from Thaïs.

A sigh escaped Kate, for after all she was a perfectly human girl. "Oh, this is heavenly!"

Jack's eyes sparkled. "Good! I was wondering when you'd begin to let yourself go." He leaned forward. "You should worry! You're the prettiest girl here—and the best dressed!"

Which was true—on both counts. There was no doubt about her prettiness; Heaven had attended to that. Eyes of the deepest blue with a glance steady and deep; an adorable little nose, and a mouth at once firm and most kissable. As for her clothes, it may be they were of cheap materials, but the taste that had chosen redeemed them. The hat, most important item, was of Kate's own manufacture, being copied from the window of a milliner whose name is a household word.

"Don't be silly," said the wearer severely. "The waiter is waiting."

"That's what he's here for! Oh, dear! I wish we could stay all afternoon!"

This was put forth really as a proposal rather than a wish. But Kate was relentless.

"We'll have to hurry," she said firmly.

"Well, we've time for a cup of green turtle, a lobster paté and a coupe St. Jacques," said Jack. A whispered order was added, and one of the yellow backs changed hands. The waiter departed.

"One would think you had been coming here all your life," said Kate demurely.

This was delicious flattery. "I've planned it in dreams," he said.

Presently the waiter returned, smiling from ear to ear, and bearing a bunch of violets almost as big as a cart wheel. Their delicious fragrance filled all the air. With a flourish he placed them before Kate.

She gasped. "Oh! How wonderful! For me!"

"Who do you think?" said Jack.

"But—but what shall I do with them?"

"Put them on. Any woman can wear violets without hurting."

"But what will they think when I get back to the office."

"The worst!" said Jack solemnly.

"Oh, Mr. Norman!"

"Why go back to the office?" asked Jack very offhand.

"Oh, Mr. Norman!" she said again, with a scandalized air.

"My name is Jack," he said unabashed.

She made believe not to hear.

"I can't bear to think of you working even for a day longer in that stuffy hole! Why, my first thought when I heard the news was I can take her out of that! What fun will it be for me to fluff around town spending money when you are still jailed there, punishing the alphabet."

"What do you mean?" she said, trying to look indignant.

"You know what I mean. Or if you don't, look at me and you'll see!"

She did not avail herself of the invitation. "You don't seem to have thought much of me. What I might like. Am I nothing to you, but a sort of little follower, a hanger-on to help you spend money!"

"Oh, Katy, that's unjust. Look at me! Katy darling, I love you. Will you marry me?"

"Somebody will hear you," she murmured glancing nervously around.

"That's no answer."

"Why—I scarcely know you!"

"Time will fix that."

"You're not in earnest."

"I am! Look at me! I know you well! For months I have thought of you night and day. Oh, I tried to cut you out at first; I thought I was only storing up trouble for myself. Poor devil of a stool-warmer like me. What chance did I have? But I couldn't help myself! Every time I saw your face at the window I forgot my hard-headed resolutions. You see you had me at a disadvantage. I had an ideal of what a lady was, that I got from my mother—but knocking round in cheap boarding houses, well you don't meet that kind. It was just plumb luck my meeting you. First time I heard your voice you just knocked me out. That was what I had wanted—all my life. Look at me! Don't you think I'm in earnest now?"

"Please, not here!" she murmured.

He suddenly realized that a girl is entitled to a certain degree of privacy in receiving a proposal. "Oh! I clean forgot where we were!" he said contritely. "I'm sorry. The two things are so mixed up in my mind, I felt I couldn't tell you quick enough."

A silence fell between them. He studied her face wistfully, but could read nothing in the closed lips and downcast eyes.

"Katy, dear, can't you give me one word to go on?"

She shook her head.

"Nothing definite, Katy—but just a hint I can't stand the suspense."

She murmured softly: "My answer is no."

"Oh, Katy!" he said brokenly. "Sometimes I thought you looked at me as if—my mistake, I suppose. Don't you like me, Katy?"

"One doesn't marry on liking. I used to like you as a poor boy; But money changes people's characters. I'll have to wait and see."