Torchy, Private Sec.
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17 By SEWELL FORD
TORCHY
TRYING OUT TORCHY
ON WITH TORCHY
TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC.
ODD NUMBERS
"Shorty McCabe"
SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB
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[Illustration: "Why didn't you tell me before that you had such a grand
name?" Frontispiece]
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TORCHY,
PRIVATE SEC.
BY
SEWELL FORD
AUTHOR OF
TORCHY, TRYING OUT TORCHY,
ON WITH TORCHY, ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
F. FOSTER LINCOLN
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
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COPYRIGHT, 1914, 1915, BY
SEWELL FORD
COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY
EDWARD J. CLODE
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Up Call for Torchy 1
II. Torchy Makes the Sir Class 19
III. Torchy Takes a Chance 37
IV. Breaking It to the Boss 56
V. Showing Gilkey the Way 75
VI. When Skeet Had His Day 95
VII. Getting a Jolt from Westy 113
VIII. Some Guesses on Ruby 129
IX. Torchy Gets an Inside Tip 148
X. Then Along Came Sukey 170
XI. Teamwork with Aunty 188
XII. Zenobia Digs Up a Late One 206
XIII. Sifting Out Uncle Bill 223
XIV. How Aunty Got the News 243
XV. Mr. Robert and a Certain Party 259
XVI. Torchy Tackles a Short Circuit 275
XVII. Mr. Robert Gets a Slant 290
XVIII. When Ella May Came By 306
XIX. Some Hoop-la for the Boss 323
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TORCHY, PRIVATE SEC.
CHAPTER I
THE UP CALL FOR TORCHY
Well, it's come! Uh-huh! And sudden, too, like I knew it would, if it
came at all. No climbin' the ladder for me, not while they run express
elevators. And, believe me, when the gate opened, I was right there with
my foot out.
It was like this: One mornin' I'm in my old place behind the brass rail,
at the jump-end of the buzzer. I'm everybody's slave in general, and
Piddie's football in particular. You know--head office boy of the
Corrugated Trust.
That's description enough, ain't it? And I'd been there so long----
Honest, when I first went on the job I used to sneak the city directory
under the chair so my toes could touch. Now my knees rub the under-side
of the desk. Familiar with the place? Say, there are just seventeen
floor cracks between me and the opposite wall; it's fifty-eight steps
through into Old Hickory's roll-top and back; and the ink I've poured
into all them desk-wells would be enough to float a ferry-boat.
At 8.30 on this special mornin' there I am, as I said; and at 2.21 P.M.
the same day I'm---- Well, of course, there was a few preliminaries,
though I didn't tag 'em as such when they come along. I expect the new
spring costume helped some. And the shave--oh, I was goin' it strong! No
cut-price, closing-out, House-of-Smartheimer bargain, altered free to
fit--not so, Lobelia! Why, I pawed over whole bales of stuff in a
sure-enough Fifth-ave. tailor works; had blueprint plans of the front
and side elevations drawn, even to the number of buttons on the cuffs,
and spent three diff'rent noon hours havin' it modeled on me before they
could pull a single bastin' thread.
But it's some stream line effect at the finish, take it from me! Nothing
sporty or cake-walky, you understand: just quiet and dignified and
rich-like, same as any second vice or gen'ral manager would wear.
Two-button sack with wide English roll and no turn-up to the
trousers--oh, I should ripple!
The shave was an afterthought. I'd worked up to it by havin' some of my
lurid locks trimmed, and as Giuseppe quits shearin' and asks if there'll
be anything else I rubs my hand casual across my jaw and remarks:
"Could you find anything there to mow with a razor?"
Could he? He'd go through the motions on a glass doorknob!
Then it's me tilted back with my heels up and the suds artist decoratin'
my map until it looks like a Polish weddin' cake. Don't it hit you
foolish the first time, though? I felt like everybody in the shop,
includin' the brush boy and the battery of lady manicures, was all
gathered around pipin' me off as a raw beginner. So I stares haughty at
the ceilin' and tries to put on a bored look.
I'd been scraped twice over, and was just bein' unwrapped from the hot
towel, when I turns to see who it is has camped down in the next chair,
and finds Mr. Robert gazin' at me curious.
"Why!" says he, chucklin'. "If it isn't Torchy! Indulging in a shave,
eh?"
"Oh, no, Sir," says I. "Been havin' my eye teeth tested for color
blindness, that's all."
Mr. Robert grins amiable and reaches out for the check. "This is on me
then," says he. "I claim the privilege."
As he comes in after luncheon he has to stop and grin again; and later
on, when I answers the buzzer, he makes me turn clear around so he can
inspect the effect and size up the new suit.
"Excellent, Torchy!" says he. "Whoever your tailor may be, you do him
credit."
"This trip I paid cash, though," says I. "It's all right, is it?"
"In every particular," says he. "Why, you look almost grown up. May I
ask the occasion? Can it be that Miss Verona is on the point of
returning from somewhere or other?"
"Uh-huh," says I. "Bermuda. Got in yesterday."
"And Aunty, I trust," goes on Mr. Robert, "is as well as usual?"
"I'm hoping for the worst," says I; "but I expect she is."
We swaps merry expressions again, and Mr. Robert pats me chummy on the
shoulder. "You're quite all right, Torchy," says he, "and I wish you
luck." Then the twinkle fades out of his eyes and he turns serious. "I
wish," he goes on, "that I could do more than just--well, some time,
perhaps." And with another friendly pat he swings around to his desk,
where the letters are stacked a foot high.
Say, he's the real thing, Mr. Robert is, no matter if he does take it
out in wishin'! It ain't every boss would do that much, specially with
the load he's carryin'. For you know since Old Hickory's been down South
takin' seven kinds of baths, and prob'ly cussin' out them resort doctors
as they was never cussed before, Mr. Robert Ellins has been doin' a
heap more than give an imitation of bein' a busy man. But he's there
with the wallop, and I guess it's goin' to take more'n a commerce court
to put the Corrugated out of business.
Too bad, though, that Congress can't spare the time from botherin' about
interlockin' directors to suppress a few padlockin' aunties. Say, the
way that old girl does keep the bars up against an inoffensive party
like me is something fierce! I tries to call Vee on the 'phone as soon
as I've discovered where she is, and all the satisfaction I get is a
message delivered by a French maid that "Miss Hemmingway is otherwise
engaged." Wouldn't that crust you?
But I've been up against this embargo game before, you know; so the
first chance I gets I slips uptown to do a little scoutin' at close
range. It's an apartment hotel this time, and I hangs around the
entrance, inspectin' the bay trees out front for half an hour, before I
can work up the nerve to make the Brodie break. Fin'lly I marches in
bold and calls for Aunty herself.
"Is she in, Cephas?" says I to the brunette Jamaican in the olive-green
liv'ry who juggles the elevator.
"I don't rightly know, Suh," says he; "but you can send up a call, Suh,
from the desk there, and----"
"Ah, let's not disturb the operator," says I. "Give a guess."
"I'm thinking she'll be taking her drive, Suh," says Cephas, blinkin'
stupid.
"Then I'll have to go up and wait," says I. "She'd be mighty sore on us
both if she missed me. Up, Cephas!"
"Yes, Suh," says he, pullin' the lever.
I should have known, though, from one look at that to-let expression of
his, that his ideas on any subject would be vague. And this was a bum
hunch on Aunty. Out? Why, she was propped up in an easy-chair with a
sprained ankle, and had been for three days! And you should have seen
the tight-lipped, welcome-to-our-grand-jury-room smile that she greets
me with.
"Humph!" she says. "You! Well, young man, what is your excuse this
time?"
I grins sheepish and shuffles my feet. "Same old excuse," says I.
"Do you mean to tell me," she gasps, "that you have the impudence to try
to see my niece, after all I have----"
"Uh-huh," I breaks in. "Don't you ever take a sportin' chance yourself?"
She gurgles somethin' throaty, goes purple in the gills, and prepares to
smear me on the spot; but I gives her the straight look between the
eyes and hurries on.
"Oh, I know where you stand, all right," says I; "but ain't you drawin'
it a little strong? Say, where's the harm in me takin' Verona out for a
half-hour walk along the Drive? We ain't had a chat for over two months,
you know, not a word, and I'd kind of like to----"
"No doubt," says Aunty. "Are you quite certain, however, that Verona
would like it too?"
"I'm always guessin' where Vee is concerned," I admits; "but by the
latest dope I had on the subject, I expect she wouldn't object
strenuous."
Aunty sniffs. "It is quite possible," says she. "Verona is a whimsical,
wilful girl at times, just as her poor mother was. Keeping up this
pretense of friendship for you is one of her silly notions."
"Thanks awfully, Ma'am," says I.
"Let me see," goes on Aunty, squintin' foxy at me, "you are employed in
Mr. Ellins's office, I believe?"
I nods.
"As office boy, still?" says she.
"No, as a live one," says I. "Anybody that stays still very long at the
Corrugated gets canned."
"Please omit meaningless jargon," says Aunty. "Does my niece know just
how humble a position you occupy? Have you ever told her?"
"Why," says I, "I don't know as I've ever gone into details."
"Ah-h-h!" says she. "I was certain that Verona did not fully realize.
Perhaps it would be as well that she----" and here she breaks off
sudden, like she'd been struck with a new idea. For a second or so she
gazes blank over the top of my head, and then she comes to with a brisk,
"That will do, young man! Verona is not at home. You need not trouble to
call again. The maid will show you out. Celeste!"
And the next thing I knew I was ridin' down again with Cephas. I'm some
shunter myself; but I dip the colors to Aunty: she does it so neat and
sudden! It must be like the sensation of havin' a flight of trick stairs
fold up under you,--one minute you're most to the top, the next you're
pickin' yourself up at the bottom.
What worries me most, though, is this hint she drops about Vee. Looks
like the old girl had something up her sleeve; but what it is I can't
dope out. So all I can do is keep my eyes open and my ear stretched for
the next few days, watchin' for something to happen.
Course, I had one or two other things on my mind meanwhile; for down at
the gen'ral offices we wa'n't indulgin' in any spring-fever
symptoms,--not with three big deals under way, all this income mess of
deductin' at the source goin' on, and Mr. Robert's grand scheme for
dissolvin' the Corrugated--on paper--bein' worked out. Oh, sure, that's
the easiest thing we do. We've split up into nineteen sep'rate and
distinct corporations, with a diff'rent set of directors for each one,
and if the Attorney General can sleuth out where they're tied together
he's got to do some high-class snoopin' around.
Maybe you think too, that little Sunny Haired Hank, guardin' the brass
gate, ain't wise to every move. Say, I make that part of my job. If I
didn't, I'd be towin' a grouchy bunch of minority kickers in where the
reorganization board was cookin' up a new stock-transfer game, or make
some other fool break that would spill the beans all over the pantry
floor.
"Torchy," says Mr. Robert, chewin' his cigar nervous and pawin' through
pigeonholes, "ask Mr. Piddie what was done with those Mesaba contracts."
"Filed under Associated Developments," says I.
"Oh, yes, so they were," says he. "Thanks. And could you find out for me
when we organized General Transportation?"
"Wa'n't that pulled off the day you waited for that Duluth delegation
to show up, just after Easter?" says I.
"That's it," says he, "the fifteenth! Has Marling of Chicago been called
up yet?"
"Nope," says I. "He'll be waitin' for the closing quotations, won't he?
But there's that four-eyed guy with the whiskers who's been hangin'
around a couple of hours."
"Ah!" says Mr. Robert, huntin' out a card on his desk. "That Rowley
person! I'd forgotten. What does he want?"
"Didn't say," says I. "Got a roll of something under one arm--crank
promoter, maybe. Will I ditch him?"
"Not without being heard," says Mr. Robert. "I haven't time myself,
though. Perhaps Mr. Piddie might interview him and----"
"Ah, Piddie!" says I. "He'd take one look at the old gink's round cuffs
and turn him down haughty. You know Piddie?"
Mr. Robert smiles. "Then suppose you do it," says he. "Go ahead--full
powers. Only remember this: My policy is to give everyone who has a
proposition to submit to the Corrugated a respectful and adequate
hearing. Get the idea?"
"I'm right behind you," says I. "The smooth stuff goes; and if we must
spill 'em, grease the skids. Me for Rowley!"
And, say, you should have heard me shove over the diplomacy, tellin'
how sorry Mr. Robert was he couldn't see him in person; but wouldn't he
please state the case in full so no time might be lost in actin' one way
or the other? Inside of three minutes too, he has his papers spread out
and is explainin' his by-product scheme for mill tailings, with me busy
takin' notes on a pad. He had it all figured out into big money; but of
course I couldn't tell whether he had a sure thing, or was just
exercisin' squirrels in the connin' tower.
"Ten millions a year," says he, "and I am offering to put this process
in operation for a five-per-cent. royalty! I've been a mine
superintendent for twenty years, young man, and I know what I'm talking
about."
"Your spiel listens like the real thing, Mr. Rowley," says I; "only we
can't jump at these things offhand. We have to chew 'em over, you know."
Rowley shakes his head decided. "You can't put me off for six months or
a year," says he. "I've been through all that. If the Corrugated doesn't
want to go into this----"
"Right you are!" I breaks in. "Ten days is enough. I'll put this up to
the board next Wednesday week and get a decision. Much obliged to you,
Mr. Rowley, for givin' us first whack at it. We 're out for anything
that looks good, and we always take care of the parties that put us
next. That's the Corrugated way. Good afternoon, Mr. Rowley. Drop in
again. Here's your hat."
And as he drifts out, smilin', pleased and hopeful, I glances over the
spring-water bottle, to see Mr. Robert standin' there listenin' with a
grin on.
"Congratulations!" says he. "That peroration of yours was a classic,
Torchy; the true Chesterfield spirit, if not the form. I am tempted to
utilize your talent for that sort of thing once more. What do you say?"
"Then put it over the plate while I'm on my battin' streak," says I.
"Who's next?"
"A lady this time," says he; "perchance two ladies." And he develops
that eye twinkle of his.
"Huh!" says I, twistin' my neck and feelin' of my tie. "You ain't
springin' any tea-pourin' stunt, are you?"
"Strictly business," says he; "at least," he adds, chucklin', "that is
the presumption. As a matter of fact, I've just been called over the
'phone by Miss Verona Hemmingway's aunt."
"Eh!" says I, gawpin'.
"She holds some of our debenture bonds, you know," says Mr. Robert, "and
I gather that she has been somewhat disturbed by these reorganization
rumors."
"But she ought to know," says I, "that our D.B.'s. are as solid as----"
"The feminine mind," cuts in Mr. Robert, "does not readily grasp such
simple facts. But I haven't half an hour or more to devote to the
process of soothing her alarm; besides, you could do it so much more
gracefully."
"Mooshwaw!" says I. "Maybe I could. But she's only one. Who's the
other?"
"She failed to state," says Mr. Robert. "She merely said, 'We shall be
down about three o'clock.'"
"We?" says I. Then I whistles. So that was her game! It was Vee she was
bringin' along!
"Well?" says Mr. Robert.
I expect I was some pinked up, and fussed, too, at the prospect. "Excuse
me," says I, "but I got to sidestep."
"Why," says he, "I rather thought this assignment might be somewhat
agreeable."
"I know," says I. "You mean well enough; but, honest, Mr. Robert, if
that foxy old dame's comin' down here with Miss Vee, I'm--well, I don't
stand for it, that's all! I'm off; with a blue ticket or without one,
just as you say."
I was reachin' for my new lid too, when Mr. Robert puts out his hand.
"Wouldn't that be--er--rather a serious breach of office discipline?"
says he. "Surely, without some good reason----"
"Ah, say!" says I. "You don't think I'm springin' any prima donna whim,
do you? It's this plot to show me up through the wrong end of the
telescope that gets me sore."
"Scarcely lucid," says he, lookin' puzzled. "Could you put it a little
simpler?"
"I'll make it long primer," says I. "How do I stand here in the
Corrugated? You know, maybe, and sometimes I give a guess myself; but on
the books, and as far as outsiders go, I'm just plain office boy, ain't
I, like 'steen thousand other four-dollar-a-week kids that's old enough
to have work papers? I've been here goin' on four years now, and I ain't
beefed much about it, have I? That's because I've been used white and
the pay has been decent. Also I'm strong for you and Mr. Ellins. I
expect you know that, Mr. Robert. Maybe I ain't got it in me to be
anything but an office boy, either; but when it comes to goin' on
exhibition before certain parties as the double cipher on the east side
of the decimal--well, that's where I make my foolish play."
"Ah!" says he, rubbin' his chin thoughtful. "Now I fully understand. And,
as you suggest, there has been for some time past something--er--equivocal
about your position here. However, just at this moment I have hardly time
to---- By Jove!" Here he breaks off and glances at the clock. "Two-fifteen,
and a general council of our attorneys called for half-past in the
directors' room! Someone else must attend to Miss Verona's estimable
aunt--positively! Now if there was anyone who could relieve you from
the gate----"
"Heiny, the bondroom boy," says I.
"Why not?" says Mr. Robert. "Then, if you should choose to stay and
prime yourself with facts about those debentures, there is that extra
desk in my office, you know. Would you mind using that?"
"But see here, Mr. Robert," says I, "I wa'n't plannin' any masquerade,
either."
"Quite so," says he; "nor I. It so happens, though, that the gentleman
whose name appears as president of our Mutual Funding Company is--well,
hardly in active business life. It is necessary that he be represented
here in some nominal capacity. The directors are now meeting in Room 19.
I have authority to name a private secretary pro tem. Do you accept the
position?"
"With a pro-tem. salary, stage money barred?" says I.
"Oh, most certainly," says he.
"Then I'm the guy," says I.
"Good!" says Mr. Robert. "These debentures come in your department. I
will notify Mr. Piddie that----"
"Say, Mr. Robert," says I, grinnin' once more, "I'd break it gentle to
Piddie."
I don't know whether he did or not; for five minutes after that Heiny
has my old seat, and I'm inside behind the ground-glass door, sittin' at
a reg'lar roll-top, with a lot of file cases spread out, puzzlin' over
this incorporation junk that makes the Fundin' Comp'ny the little joker
in the Corrugated deck.
And next thing I know in comes Heiny, gawpin' foolish, and trailin'
behind him Aunty and Vee. I wa'n't throwin' any bluff about tryin' to
look busy, either. I was elbow-deep in papers, with a pen behind one ear
and ink on three fingers.
You should have heard the gasp that comes from Aunty as she pipes off
who it is at the desk. My surprise as I'm discovered is the real thing
too.
"Chairs, Boy!" says I, snappin' my fingers at Heiny.
But Aunty catches her breath, draws herself up stiff, and waves away the
seats. "Young man," says she, "I came here to consult with Mr. Robert
Ellins about----"
"Yes'm," says I, "I understand. Debenture six's, ain't they? Not
affected by the reorganization, Ma'am. You see, it's like this: Those
bonds were issued in exchange for----"
"Young man," she breaks in, aimin' her lorgnette at me threatenin', "I
prefer to discuss this matter with Mr. Robert."
"Sorry," says I, "but as he's very busy he asked me to----"
"And who, pray," snaps the old girl, "are you?"
"Representin' the president of the Mutual Funding Comp'ny," says I.
"Just how?" she demands.
"Private secretary, Ma'am," says I.
"Humph!" she snorts. "This is too absurd of Mr. Robert--wholly absurd!
Come, Verona."
And as she sails out I just has time for a glance at Vee, and catches a
wink. Believe me, though, a friendly wink from one of them gray eyes is
worth waitin' for! She follows Aunty through the door with a
handkerchief stuffed in her mouth like she was smotherin' a snicker; so
I guess Vee was on. And I'm left feelin' all warmed up and chirky.
Mr. Robert comes in from his lawyer session just before closin' time;
rubbin' his hands sort of satisfied too.
"Well," says I, jumpin' up from the swing-chair, "it was some jolt you
slipped Aunty. I expect I can resign now?"
"Oh, I trust not," says he. "The board indorsed your appointment an hour
ago. Keep your desk, Torchy. It is to be yours from now on."
"Wh-a-a-at?" says I, my eyes bugged. "Off the gate for good, am I?"
"We are hoping," says he, "that the gate's loss will be the Funding
Company's gain."
I gurgles gaspy a couple of times before I catches my breath. "Will it?"
says I. "Say, just watch me! I'm goin' to show you that fundin' is my
long suit!"
CHAPTER II
TORCHY MAKES THE SIR CLASS
Say, it's all right, gettin' the quick boost up the ladder, providin'
you don't let it make you dizzy in the head. And, believe me, I was near
it! You see, bein' jumped from office boy to private sec, all in one
afternoon, was some breath-takin' yank.
I expect the full force of what had happened didn't hit me until here
the other mornin' when I strolls into the Corrugated gen'ral offices on
the new nine o'clock schedule and finds this raw recruit holdin' down my
old chair behind the rail. Nice, smooth-haired, bright-eyed youngster,
with his ears all scoured out pink and his knickerbocker suit brushed
neat. He hops up and opens the gate real respectful for me.
"Well, Son," says I, "what does Mother call you?"
"Vincent, Sir," says he.
"Some class to that, too," says I. "But how do you know, Vincent, that
I'm one of the reg'lar staff and not canvassin' for something?"
"I don't, Sir," says he, "until I see if you know where to hang your
hat."
"Good domework, Vincent," says I. "On that I'm backin' you to hold the
job."
"Thank you, Sir," says he. "I told Mother I'd do my best."
And with that he springs a bashful smile. It was the "Sir" every time
that caught me, though. For more'n four years I'd been just Torchy or
Boy to all hands in the shop, from Old Hickory down; and now all of a
sudden I finds there's one party at least that rates me in the Sir
class. Kind of braced me for swingin' past all that row of giggly lady
typists and on into Mr. Robert's private office.
Thrill No. 2 arrived half an hour later. In postin' myself as to what
this Mutual Fundin' Company really is that I'm supposed to be workin'
for, I needed some papers from the document safe. And for the first time
I pushes the buzzer button. Prompt and eager in comes Vincent, the fair
haired.
"Know which is Mr. Piddie, do you?" says I.
"Oh, yes, Sir," says he.
"Well," says I, "tell him I need those--no, better ask him to step in
here a minute."
Honest, I wa'n't plannin' to rub it in, either. Course, I'd done a good
deal of trottin' for Piddie, and a lot of it wa'n't for anything else
than to let him show his authority; but I didn't hold any grudge. I'd
squared the account in my own way. How he was goin' to take it now I
was the one to send for him, I didn't know; but there wa'n't any use
dodgin' the issue.
And you should have seen Piddie make his first official entrance! You
know how stiff and wooden he is as a rule? Well, as he marches in over
the rug and comes to a parade rest by the desk, he's about as limber as
a length of gas pipe. And solemn? That long face of his would have
soured condensed milk!
"Yes, Sir?" says he. And to me, mind you! It come out a little husky,
like it was bein' filtered through strong emotions; but there it is.
Piddie has sirred me his first "Sir."
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