The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason\'s Corner Folks

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"Well, Mr. Strout, they do say it's Mr. Quincy Adams Sawyer, an' that
Sam Hill and his wife Tilly are going to run it."

"I won't sell them a darned thing."

Mr. Stiles grinned. "Can't they buy in Cottonton, or Montrose, or
Eastborough? Mr. Sawyer's got stores there."

"Well they'll want things in a hurry, but they won't get them from
me."

A month later Abner rushed into the store.

"Say, Strout, they're putting up a new sign on the Hawkins House.
Come and see it."

Mr. Strout walked leisurely to the window and put up his hand to
shade his eyes. Great white letters on a blue ground.

THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY

"By George, Strout, there's going to be another grocery."

Mr. Strout did not speak, but walked back behind the counter. Abner
went to see the sign raising.

Mr. Strout soliloquized: "So, he's going to fight me, is he? Well,
I'll spend every dollar I have, and borrow some more, before I'll
give in. He'll cut prices--so will I."

Then a troubled look came into his face.

"Confound it. My commission as postmaster runs out in a month, but
our Congressman is a good friend of mine."

Opening night came at the new store, Saturday being selected. Over
the doorway was an electric sign--

WELCOME TO ALL

Mr. Strout's store was nearly deserted. About ten o'clock Abner came
in.

"I say, Strout, it's just scrumptious. They got three times as many
goods as you have. An' there's a smoking room back of the store with
a sign over the door _'Exclusively for Loafers. Loaf and Enjoy Your
Soul.'_ They say a poet feller named Whitman writ that last part.
Saturday morning is to be bargain day and everything is to be sold at
half price. And, say, isn't the hotel fine? Everybody was invited
upstairs, an' there was a free lunch spread out."

"Abner, you've talked enough. You'd better go home."

The warfare continued for three months. At the end of the first,
Hiram Maxwell, an old soldier, was appointed postmaster, _vice_
Obadiah Strout. At the end of the second month Mr. Strout resigned
his position as organist and the gentleman who led the orchestra that
played during the evening at the hotel was chosen in his stead. At
the end of the third month a red flag was seen hanging at the door of
Mr. Strout's store and Mr. Beers the auctioneer whose once rotund
voice had now become thin and quavering, sold off the remaining stock
and the fixtures. Then the curtains were pulled down and the door
locked. The next day Mr. and Mrs. Strout and family left town.

"What's become of Strout?" Quincy asked his son, who had just
returned from Fernborough. Another month had passed since the auction
sale.

"I heard he was seen on State Street a few days ago, and he said the
best move he ever made was leaving that one-horse country town; that
he could make more money in a day in State Street than he could in a
month in the grocery business. It seems he has become what they call
a curb broker or speculator."

"I am glad," said Quincy, "that Mr. Strout has found a more
profitable and congenial field. It must have been very dull for him
the last three months of his stay in that one-horse town."

CHAPTER XXX

TOM, JACK AND NED

Quincy decided to have his company incorporated. This necessitated
visits to the Secretary of the Commonwealth and the Tax Commissioner.
The amount paid in cash capital was $200,000. Besides the four stores
doing business, sixteen more were contemplated in Boston, Cambridge,
Lowell, Lawrence, Fall River, New Bedford, and other small cities and
large towns.

The design was not to form a trust with a view of controlling certain
food products and raising prices, but to establish a line of stores
in which the best grade at the lowest cash price should be the rule.
This price was to be fixed for the Boston store and was to be the
same in all the stores.

"Whom shall I put in charge of the Boston store, Quincy?" his father
asked. "He will have to be general manager for the whole circuit."

"I know a man," said young Quincy, "who is honest, conscientious, and
a perfect tiger for work, but he knows nothing about the grocery
business. He has adaptability, that valuable quality, but, while
learning, he might make some costly mistakes."

"I want you to act as Treasurer for the company. It's your money, and
you should handle it."

"I've no objection to drawing checks. We sha'n't have to borrow any
money for there's half a million available any time. Why didn't you
have a larger capital, father?"

"Because the State taxes it so heavily; but there's no tax on
borrowed money. The fellow who lends pays that."

"If I loan money do I have to pay taxes on it when I haven't got it?"

"Certainly, and you pay just the same if there's no prospect of its
ever being repaid."

"That's funny."

"Funny! Why, our Massachusetts tax laws are funnier than a comic
almanac, and about as sensible."

Quincy took up a pen and began writing.

"What are you writing, father?"

"I'll show you in a few minutes."

"How will that do?"

Quincy read:

QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER, _President_. QUINCY
ADAMS SAWYER, Jr., _Treasurer_. THOMAS CHRIPP,
_General Manager_. Cash Capital, $200,000.

Cable, _Vienna_. 20 _Stores_.

THE SAWYER GROCERY COMPANY, INC.

Wholesale and Retail.

"Just the man I had in mind, father. You can depend upon him every
time, and he'll keep his subordinates right up to the mark."

Upon his return to his native state Quincy had found many of his old
friends still in office. The governor and higher officials were only
annuals--some not very hardy at that--while the minor officials, in
many cases, were hardy perennials, whom no political hot weather or
cold storm could wither or destroy.

A presidential campaign was on, and speakers, for there were few
orators, were in demand. Quincy's visits to so many cities inspecting
the Company's stores had brought him in contact with hundreds of
local politicians. One day there came a call from the State Committee
to come in and see the Secretary.

"Do you want to do something for the party?" asked Mr. Thwing, the
Secretary.

"I have already subscribed," said Quincy. "Do you need more?"

"Money talks," said Mr. Thwing, "and so do you. I have a score of
letters from different cities asking me to add you to our list of
speakers, and to be sure and let the writers hear you."

"I had no intention--" Quincy began.

"You're an ex-governor, and know all the State. Aren't you in the
grocery business in a big way?"

"Rather."

"'Twill boom your business in great style. Better even for groceries
than boots and shoes, for food is a daily consumption."

"I wouldn't go on the stump just to advertise my business."

"Of course not. You would take just what the gods provided and ask no
questions, and make no comments. Shall we put you down for, say,
twenty nights?"

Quincy consented, but he stipulated that he was not to be placed in
any city or town where he had a store.

Mr. Thwing vehemently objected. "Why, the men who want you to come
live where the stores are."

"I can't help it. Put me in the next town, and if they're so anxious
to hear me they'll come."

After the campaign was over, the votes cast, and the victory won, Mr.
Thwing said, "That was a good business idea of yours, Governor, about
your not going into the towns where your stores were. Of course you
instructed your general manager."

"I don't know what you mean," said Quincy.

"Didn't you know when you spoke in places adjoining those in which
you had stores that your Mr. Chripp, I think that's the name--just
flooded the towns with circulars announcing that you were to speak
and that you were the President of the grocery company doing business
in the adjoining city, that your goods were the best, your prices the
lowest--and that your teams would deliver goods free of charge in all
places within five miles?"

Mr. Thwing stopped to take breath, and Quincy nearly lost his in
astonishment.

"Great business idea, Mr. Sawyer."

"I knew nothing about it. I should have stopped it had I known."

"Why so? You got a double ad. Bright man that Chripp. You'll have to
raise his salary."

Quincy did not reply. The deed was done, and a public explanation
would do no good. Chripp surely had his employer's interests at
heart, even if he had mixed politics and business rather too openly.
The next month's statement showed a great increase in trade. Mr.
Chripp was not called to account, but his salary was materially
increased at the suggestion of young Quincy.

The new President had been inaugurated, the Cabinet nominees
confirmed, and the distribution of political "plums" began. Quincy
felt that the lightning had struck in the wrong place when he was
approached and sounded as to whether he would accept a foreign
mission. He talked the matter over with his wife.

"Quincy," said she, "I would go, if I were you."

"Are you not happy here?"

"Yes, and no. Happy to be near my son, and relatives and friends; no,
because your business takes you away so much that I see little of
you. If you take the mission, I shall have you with me all the time.
I am selfish, I know, but it is my love for you that makes me so."

The Hon. Quincy Adams Sawyer was nominated and confirmed as
Ambassador to Austria-Hungary. Alice had made the selection.

"Let us go to Vienna, Quincy. It was there we met after our long
separation--and, this is purely a personal matter, I wish to study
the scenes of my story, 'The Son of Sergius,' at close range."

Before Quincy's departure it had been decided to lease the Beacon
Street house for four years. Maude was given her choice but preferred
the house in Mount Vernon Street where she had lived since her
marriage.

Young Quincy was obliged to take bachelor quarters which he found at
Norumbega Chambers.

His suite consisted of a sitting-room, two sleeping rooms each with
bath, and a small room intended for a library or study, and which was
utilized by him as an office.

Quincy went down the harbour with his father and mother on the ocean
liner, returning on the tug with Tom. On the way back young Quincy
took a small envelope from his pocket and extracted a short note
which he had read at least a dozen times since its receipt. It was
from Miss Mary Dana and informed him that she had returned to Boston
and would be pleased to see him, the next day, at her office with the
Isburn Detective Bureau.

It was a cold, raw day in the early part of April and when they
reached the city Quincy was taken with a chill. When they reached
Norumbega Chambers the chill had turned to a fever, and Tom suggested
sending for a doctor. Quincy stoutly protested against any such
action being taken, but Tom summoned one despite his objections. In
this way, Quincy became acquainted with John Loring Bannister, M. D.

Dr. Bannister was unknown to his patient when he paid his first
visit, and was professionally non-communicative, but he told him
afterwards, when their acquaintance had ripened to such an extent
that the names Quincy and Jack took the place of more formal
designations, that it had always seemed a wonder to him that he had
survived. Quincy, with no intention of indulging in flattery, replied
that if a certain physician had not been called in he, probably,
would not have done so.

Quincy's condition on the second day was so low, indeed, that Dr.
Bannister told Tom if his friend had not made a will he had better do
so. Tom's first thought was to send for Mr. Merry, but he decided
that might lead to a charge of family influence, and he appealed to
the doctor.

Dr. Bannister told Tom he was well acquainted with a young lawyer and
that he would send him up to see Mr. Sawyer. Quincy was in such a
condition when Lawyer Edward Everett Colbert made his first visit,
that if he had been asked the name of the principal beneficiary he
would probably have told the lawyer to let it go to the Devil. The
second time that Mr. Colbert called, Quincy's physical will had
resumed control and he had no need of any other.

When convalescing Quincy said to Tom, when the nurse was absent, "If
you thought I was going to die, why didn't you send for Aunt Maude,
and--and--you know whom I mean--Miss Dana?"

"I saw them every day, but you were too weak to see them, but if--
they would have been summoned."

"Tom, your head is so level that a plane couldn't make a shaving."

Tom was obliged to be away daytimes, the buying for twenty stores
requiring much travel.

Dr. Bannister and Lawyer Colbert were occasional visitors and Quincy
received a manifest mental exhilaration from his intercourse with
them. His sickness had led him to think about the future. Was he to
live and die as the treasurer of a grocery company? Had he no higher
ideal?

A story told by Jack and Ned, which they knew to be true, because
they were the principal actors therein, led Quincy to give himself up
to some mighty thinking.

The story was related one evening in the sitting-room when Tom was
present.

"What I'm going to tell," began Ned, "will include much more than I
saw or knew myself, but it all comes from authentic sources. I shall
omit names, since they are unessential.

"Among my clients was an old gentleman, over seventy years of age,
but still erect and vigorous. One morning I received a letter
requesting me to call at his house. I found him in bed feeling all
tired out. He said he had never had a doctor in his life.

"The doctor, here, assures me that those people who never need a
doctor until they are well advanced in life are not likely to require
a physician's services more than once. The next call is for the
undertaker."

"That's so," broke in Jack; "it's the person who is continually
calling upon a doctor for every little ailment who lives to an old
age, for instead of letting disease creep upon him, he calls for
medical assistance as soon as he experiences any derangement of his
physical system. If all the people would follow this plan, it would
increase the longevity of the human race."

"And materially increase the income of the medical profession," added
Quincy.

"It proved to be the old gentleman's first and last sickness. In
order that you may fully understand the wonderful event which took
place the night he died, I shall have to give you a history of his
family."

Quincy consulted his watch. "It is now but a few minutes past seven.
I will give you until midnight, my usual time for retiring."

"I have an engagement at ten or thereabouts," said Jack, "but it's a
matter of life instead of death."

Ned continued: "My client had a son and daughter, both married. They
were good children and loved their father on the American plan. The
son had married an avaricious woman, while the daughter was married
to a man who was not so avaricious as his sister-in-law. The old
gentleman was very wealthy and like all good children they were
thinking of the time when the property would be divided."

"I see signs of a family squabble," remarked Quincy.

"It came to pass," said Ned. "The French have a maxim which says it
is advisable to search for the woman in all mysterious cases. In this
instance, the woman did not wait to be searched for but came of her
own accord. She insisted upon having the card bearing the name of
Mrs. James Bliss sent up to the sick man; when he saw it he, in turn,
insisted upon seeing the woman. The family wished to be present at
the interview but my client demanded a private conversation which
lasted for an hour.

"Jack had been in daily attendance as a physician, but I was not sent
for until the day following Mrs. Bliss's visit. He had told his son
that he wished to make his will, and the son told the other members
of the family. They wished him to make a will, of course, but they
were afraid that woman had exercised undue influence. As the son
expressed it, the better way would be to let the law make the
decision.

"My client insisted upon seeing me alone. He told me the woman's
story. Many years before, when my client was a poor man, her father
had set him up in business. He had told his daughter of the loan
before his death, and her visit was to ask for payment as she was a
widow and poor, with three children to support.

"My client directed me to put her in the will for fifty thousand
dollars, saying the original loan at six per cent, would amount to
fully that amount.

"The son, when told the story by me made no objection to the bequest
but the son's wife and the son-in-law declared that the note she had
was outlawed and that she shouldn't have a cent. The son-in-law put a
private detective on her track who learned that Mrs. Bliss was a test
and trance medium, and that she gave materialization seances at
private houses. The whole family then declared her to be a fraud and
impostor, and declared their intention of breaking the will if it was
signed.

"Now we are getting to the lively part of the story. The will was
ready for signing. It was about five minutes past six when I was
admitted and I went right up to my client's room. I had been there
about five minutes when Jack came in. He was followed by the entire
family, the son-in-law having been chosen to prevent the signing of
the will.

"Then occurred a sensational episode. Mrs. Bliss came to inquire
about my client's condition and the unsuspecting nurse admitted her.
She came directly to the room where we were all assembled."

"A strong situation for a play," remarked Quincy.

"They played it," said Ned. "The son-in-law took Mrs. Bliss into an
adjoining room and ordered her to stay there. Then he returned. This
was to be a Waterloo but he was the Wellington.

"My client was propped up in bed, a pen placed in his hand, while the
document rested on a large book which Jack held.

"The son-in-law began the oratory. 'I protest,' he screamed. 'This
sacrilege, this injustice shall not be done with my consent.' What
was it you said to him, Jack?"

"I told him unless he stopped talking in such an excited manner, and
made less noise, it would have a very prejudicial effect upon my
patient's health.

"The son-in-law then denounced Mrs. Bliss as an adventuress, and that
she had no legal claim upon his father-in-law. His loud voice and
violent gestures were too much for the invalid. The pen dropped from
his nerveless fingers and he fell back exhausted. I think you had
better take it up now, Ned."

"All right. You gave me a chance to rest my voice. Yes, thank you,"
as Tom passed him a glass of water.

Ned resumed, "The door was opened and Mrs. Bliss looked in. 'Has he
signed?' she asked.

"'No, he hasn't,' yelled the son-in-law, 'and while I live he never
shall' Now you come in again, Jack."

"'Ladies and gentlemen.' said I, 'this excitement must stop. As
medical adviser I order you all to leave the room.' They objected,
but I told them if they didn't, I should resign charge of the case
and refuse to give a death certificate unless there was an inquest.
That frightened them, and they all went out, the son-in-law escorting
Mrs. Bliss."

"We propped up the patient again, and I gave him some brandy. He
said, 'I must sign.' He took the pen and made a ragged, disjointed
capital 'T.'

"The pen dropped from his hand and he fell back upon the pillow. Ned
put the unsigned will in his pocket. I found that the end was very
near and I told Ned to call the family. Now, it's your turn, Ned."

"I told the family they had better go to their father's room at once.
Mrs. Bliss arose with the intention of following them but I told her
she was not one of the family; that she could remain with me as my
services were no longer needed. She turned to me and asked: 'Was it
signed?' I shook my head. Without a word she sank upon the nearest
chair and buried her face in her arms.

"I stood irresolute. The spectacle of this silent woman, speechless
because she was to be deprived of what was justly due her, was a
situation with which I did not know how to deal. I was saved the
necessity of saying or doing anything by the sudden entrance of Jack
who cried: 'Ned, it's all over; he's dead.'"

"Now comes the wonderful, inexplainable, part of the story. There was
a single gas-burner alight in the room. It was turned down low; faces
were discernible, but the room was only half lighted. Hearing a movement,
Jack and I turned towards Mrs. Bliss. She had lifted her head from the
table and was gazing directly at us. Her eyes were open, but they had
a glassy look. Then it seemed as though the room was gradually
becoming darker and darker, until the darkness became intense.

"My first thought was that Mrs. Bliss had put out the gas. Before I
had time to question her, Jack and I caught sight of a white spot
that was approaching us from the corner of the room nearest the
doorway which led into the hallway. This light, which was no larger
than a man's hand at first, increased in size and intensity until it
covered a space at least two feet wide and six feet high. I must
admit that my hair was inclined to stand on end."

"And mine too," exclaimed Jack.

"Suddenly," said Ned, "the light, which was nebulous, began to fall
away in places and assume a shape like the form of a man. Then the
portion where a man's head ought to be, assumed the appearance of
one. Jack and I clasped hands and retreated to the farther corner of
the room. This act on our part was purely voluntary. If I had
possessed a Remington rifle, six Colt's revolvers, and a dynamite
bomb, I should have backed out just the same.

"We could not remove our eyes from the glittering, moving, thing; and
now a most surprising change took place. The light seemed to leave
the figure, so that it was not visible as a light, and yet it filled
the room with a radiant glow.

"Who was that who stood before us? Could we believe our eyes? Were
they playing us a trick? Were we the victims of a too active
imagination? No, there could be no mistake. The form that stood
before us was that of the man who lay dead in the next room.

"Turning towards us, from the form came the words distinctly spoken--
'It must be signed!' The figure pointed to the table near which Mrs.
Bliss still sat in an apparently unconscious state. I took the will
from my pocket, opened it, advanced to the table, and laid it
thereon. The figure reached out its right hand and beckoned. The
thought came to me that he wanted a pen. There was none in the room.
Jack divined the situation as quickly as I did and took his
stylographic pen from his visiting book, fitted it for use, and laid
it on the table beside the will. The form advanced, took up the pen,
joined a small letter to the capital 'T' already written, and
finished out the name in full.

"The form then laid the pen upon the table and pointed to the places
set apart for witnesses. I wrote my name, Edward Everett Colbert, and
Jack put his,--John Loring Bannister, under mine."

"Did the form sit down?" asked Quincy.

"No. The only chair near the table was the one in which Mrs. Bliss
sat. I could not resist the inclination to whisper in Jack's ear:
'What do you think of that?' We both turned with the intention of
taking another look at 'That,' but it had disappeared and the gas was
burning at about half-light.

"Mrs. Bliss arose from her seat with a pleasant smile on her face.
'You said that he had signed it--I understood you to say so, did I
not?' I said nothing, but drew the will from my pocket and pointed to
the signatures. Then Jack said it was his duty to see the sorrowing
family and for me to escort Mrs. Bliss to a car.

"Jack and I took dinner together in a private room at Young's the
next day. We decided that it was my duty to present the will for
probate. Although it is presumed by the statutes of this Commonwealth
that a will is signed by a living man, I was unable to find anything
in said statutes to prevent a dead man, if he were so disposed and
able, or enabled, doing so."

"Of course the will was presented for probate," said Quincy.

"It was," replied Ned, "and despite the energetic efforts of the
avaricious son-in-law, was admitted. His lawyer brought up the point
that the will should have had three witnesses, but I showed him the
note, told him Mrs. Bliss's story, and declared that I would fight
the case up to the Supreme Court if necessary.

"There was no doubt in the mind of the registrar as to the
authenticity of the will for was it not duly signed and witnessed by
Dr. Bannister, a physician of the highest repute, and Lawyer Colbert,
a bright and shining light of the legal profession?"

"Your story taxes my credulity," said Quincy, "but I will not allow
it to break our friendship. Tom, kindly ring for that supper to be
sent up." He looked at his watch. "Doctor, you've time to spare. 'Tis
only nine-thirty."

CHAPTER XXXI

THE GREAT ISBURN RUBY

Mr. Irving Isburn, the proprietor of the great detective bureau was
over seventy years of age, and, although he still had a general
supervision over the business, and was in his office for a short time
anyway, nearly every day, he was leaving the details more and more to
his subordinates. From the very beginning Mary Dana had made
wonderful improvement in her detective work, and the results of her
last case, on which she had been kept in the West for several months,
were so satisfactory that she was given practically the entire
management of the Bureau.

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