the gentle grafter-第19节

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〃One；〃　says　I；　〃that　is　cool　and　wise　and　strictly　business　from　her
pompadour　to　her　Oxfords。　No　ex…toe…dancers　or　gum…chewers　or　crayon
portrait　canvassers　for　this。〃

Buck　claimed　he　knew　a　suitable　feminine　and　he　takes　me　around　to　see
Miss　Sarah　Malloy。　The　minute　I　see　her　I　am　pleased。　She　looked　to　be
the　goods　as　ordered。　No　sign　of　the　three　p's　about　herno　peroxide；
patchouli；　nor　peau　de　soie；　about　twenty…two；　brown　hair；　pleasant
waysthe　kind　of　a　lady　for　the　place。

〃A　description　of　the　sandbag；　if　you　please；〃　she　begins。

〃Why；　ma'am；〃　says　I；　〃this　graft　of　ours　is　so　nice　and　refined　and
romantic；　it　would　make　the　balcony　scene　in　'Romeo　and　Juliet'　look
like　second…story　work。〃

We　talked　it　over；　and　Miss　Malloy　agreed　to　come　in　as　a　business
partner。　She　said　she　was　glad　to　get　a　chance　to　give　up　her　place　as
stenographer　and　secretary　to　a　suburban　lot　company；　and　go　into
something　respectable。

This　is　the　way　we　worked　our　scheme。　First；　I　figured　it　out　by　a
kind　of　a　proverb。　The　best　grafts　in　the　world　are　built　up　on　copy…
book　maxims　and　psalms　and　proverbs　and　Esau's　fables。　They　seem　to
kind　of　hit　off　human　nature。　Our　peaceful　little　swindle　was
constructed　on　the　old　saying：　〃The　whole　push　loves　a　lover。〃

One　evening　Buck　and　Miss　Malloy　drives　up　like　blazes　in　a　buggy　to　a
farmer's　door。　She　is　pale　but　affectionate；　clinging　to　his　arm
always　clinging　to　his　arm。　Any　one　can　see　that　she　is　a　peach　and　of
the　cling　variety。　They　claim　they　are　eloping　for　to　be　married　on
account　of　cruel　parents。　They　ask　where　they　can　find　a　preacher。
Farmer　says；　〃B'gum　there　ain't　any　preacher　nigher　than　Reverend
Abels；　four　miles　over　on　Caney　Creek。〃　Farmeress　wipes　her　hand　on
her　apron　and　rubbers　through　her　specs。

Then；　lo　and　look　ye！　Up　the　road　from　the　other　way　jogs　Parleyvoo
Pickens　in　a　gig；　dressed　in　black；　white　necktie；　long　face；　sniffing
his　nose；　emitting　a　spurious　kind　of　noise　resembling　the　long　meter
doxology。

〃B'jinks！〃　says　farmer；　〃if　thar　ain't　a　preacher　now！〃

It　transpires　that　I　am　Rev。　Abijah　Green；　travelling　over　to　Little
Bethel　school…house　for　to　preach　next　Sunday。

The　young　folks　will　have　it　they　must　be　married；　for　pa　is　pursuing
them　with　the　plow　mules　and　the　buckboard。　So　the　Reverend　Green；
after　hesitating；　marries　'em　in　the　farmer's　parlor。　And　farmer
grins；　and　has　in　cider；　and　says　〃B'gum！〃　and　farmeress　sniffles　a
bit　and　pats　the　bride　on　the　shoulder。　And　Parleyvoo　Pickens；　the
wrong　reverend；　writes　out　a　marriage　certificate；　and　farmer　and
farmeress　sign　it　as　witnesses。　And　the　parties　of　the　first；　second
and　third　part　gets　in　their　vehicles　and　rides　away。　Oh；　that　was　an
idyllic　graft！　True　love　and　the　lowing　kine　and　the　sun　shining　on
the　red　barnsit　certainly　had　all　other　impostures　I　know　about　beat
to　a　batter。

I　suppose　I　happened　along　in　time　to　marry　Buck　and　Miss　Malloy　at
about　twenty　farm…houses。　I　hated　to　think　how　the　romance　was　going
to　fade　later　on　when　all　them　marriage　certificates　turned　up　in
banks　where　we'd　discounted　'em；　and　the　farmers　had　to　pay　them　notes
of　hand　they'd　signed；　running　from　300　to　500。

On　the　15th　day　of　May　us　three　divided　about　6；000。　Miss　Malloy
nearly　cried　with　joy。　You　don't　often　see　a　tenderhearted　girl　or　one
that　is　bent　on　doing　right。

〃Boys；〃　says　she；　dabbing　her　eyes　with　a　little　handkerchief；　〃this
stake　comes　in　handier　than　a　powder　rag　at　a　fat　men's　ball。　It　gives
me　a　chance　to　reform。　I　was　trying　to　get　out　of　the　real　estate
business　when　you　fellows　came　along。　But　if　you　hadn't　taken　me　in　on
this　neat　little　proposition　for　removing　the　cuticle　of　the　rutabaga
propagators　I'm　afraid　I'd　have　got　into　something　worse。　I　was　about
to　accept　a　place　in　one　of　these　Women's　Auxiliary　Bazars；　where　they
build　a　parsonage　by　selling　a　spoonful　of　chicken　salad　and　a　cream…
puff　for　seventy…five　cents　and　calling　it　a　Business　Man's　Lunch。

〃Now　I　can　go　into　a　square；　honest　business；　and　give　all　them　queer
jobs　the　shake。　I'm　going　to　Cincinnati　and　start　a　palm　reading　and
clairvoyant　joint。　As　Madame　Saramaloi；　the　Egyptian　Sorceress；　I
shall　give　everybody　a　dollar's　worth　of　good　honest　prognostication。
Good…by；　boys。　Take　my　advice　and　go　into　some　decent　fake。　Get
friendly　with　the　police　and　newspapers　and　you'll　be　all　right。〃

So　then　we　all　shook　hands；　and　Miss　Malloy　left　us。　Me　and　Buck　also
rose　up　and　sauntered　off　a　few　hundred　miles；　for　we　didn't　care　to
be　around　when　them　marriage　certificates　fell　due。

With　about　4；000　between　us　we　hit　that　bumptious　little　town　off　the
New　Jersey　coast　they　call　New　York。

If　there　ever　was　an　aviary　overstocked　with　jays　it　is　that　Yaptown…
on…the…Hudson。　Cosmopolitan　they　call　it。　You　bet。　So's　a　piece　of
fly…paper。　You　listen　close　when　they're　buzzing　and　trying　to　pull
their　feet　out　of　the　sticky　stuff。　〃Little　old　New　York's　good　enough
for　us〃that's　what　they　sing。

There's　enough　Reubs　walk　down　Broadway　in　one　hour　to　buy　up　a　week's
output　of　the　factory　in　Augusta；　Maine；　that　makes　Knaughty
Knovelties　and　the　little　Phine　Phum　oroide　gold　finger　ring　that
sticks　a　needle　in　your　friend's　hand。

You'd　think　New　York　people　was　all　wise；　but　no。　They　don't　get　a
chance　to　learn。　Everything's　too　compressed。　Even　the　hayseeds　are
baled　hayseeds。　But　what　else　can　you　expect　from　a　town　that's　shut
off　from　the　world　by　the　ocean　on　one　side　and　New　Jersey　on　the
other？

It's　no　place　for　an　honest　grafter　with　a　small　capital。　There's　too
big　a　protective　tariff　on　bunco。　Even　when　Giovanni　sells　a　quart　of
warm　worms　and　chestnut　hulls　he　has　to　hand　out　a　pint　to　an
insectivorous　cop。　And　the　hotel　man　charges　double　for　everything　in
the　bill　that　he　sends　by　the　patrol　wagon　to　the　altar　where　the　duke
is　about　to　marry　the　heiress。

But　old　Badville…near…Coney　is　the　ideal　burg　for　a　refined　piece　of
piracy　if　you　can　pay　the　bunco　duty。　Imported　grafts　come　pretty
high。　The　custom…house　officers　that　look　after　it　carry　clubs；　and
it's　hard　to　smuggle　in　even　a　bib…and…tucker　swindle　to　work　Brooklyn
with　unless　you　can　pay　the　toll。　But　now；　me　and　Buck；　having
capital；　descends　upon　New　York　to　try　and　trade　the　metropolitan
backwoodsmen　a　few　glass　beads　for　real　estate　just　as　the　Vans　did　a
hundred　or　two　years　ago。

At　an　East　Side　hotel　we　gets　acquainted　with　Romulus　G。　Atterbury；　a
man　with　the　finest　head　for　financial　operations　I　ever　saw。　It　was
all　bald　and　glossy　except　for　gray　side　whiskers。　Seeing　that　head
behind　an　office　railing；　and　you'd　deposit　a　million　with　it　without
a　receipt。　This　Atterbury　was　well　dressed；　though　he　ate　seldom；　and
the　synopsis　of　his　talk　would　make　the　conversation　of　a　siren　sound
like　a　cab　driver's　kick。　He　said　he　used　to　be　a　member　of　the　Stock
Exchange；　but　some　of　the　big　capitalists　got　jealous　and　formed　a
ring　that　forced　him　to　sell　his　seat。

Atterbury　got　to　liking　me　and　Buck　and　he　begun　to　throw　on　the
canvas　for　us　some　of　the　schemes　that　had　caused　his　hair　to
evacuate。　He　had　one　scheme　for　starting　a　National　bank　on　45　that
made　the　Mississippi　Bubble　look　as　solid　as　a　glass　marble。　He　talked
this　to　us　for　three　days；　and　when　his　throat　was　good　and　sore　we
told　him　about　the　roll　we　had。　Atterbury　borrowed　a　quarter　from　us
and　went　out　and　got　a　box　of　throat　lozenges　and　started　all　over
again。　This　time　he　talked　bigger　things；　and　he　got　us　to　see　'em　as
he　did。　The　scheme　he　laid　out　looked　like　a　sure　winner；　and　he
talked　me　and　Buck　into　putting　our　capital　against　his　burnished　dome
of　thought。　It　looked　all　right　for　a　kid…gloved　graft。　It　seemed　to
be　just　about　an　inch　and　a　half　outside　of　the　reach　of　the　police；
and　as　money…making　as　a　mint。　It　was　just　what　me　and　Buck　wanteda
regular　business　at　a　permanent　stand；　with　an　open　air　spieling　with
tonsolitis　on　the　street　corners　every　evening。

So；　in　six　weeks　you　see　a　handsome　furnished　set　of　offices　down　in
the　Wall　Street　neighborhood；　with　〃The　Golconda　Gold　Bond　and
Investment　Company〃　in　gilt　letters　on　the　door。　And　you　see　in　his
private　room；　with　the　door　open；　the　secretary　and　treasurer；　Mr。
Buckingham　Skinner；　costumed　like　the　lilies　of　the　conservatory；　with
his　high　silk　hat　close　to　his　hand。　Nobody　yet　ever　saw　Buck　outside
of　an　instantaneous　reach　for　his　hat。

And　you　might　perceive　the　president　and　general　manager；　Mr。　R。　G。
Atterbury；　with　his　priceless　polished　poll；　busy　in　the　main　office
room　dictating　letters　to　a　shorthand　countess；　who　has　got　pomp　and　a
pompadour　that　is　no　less　than　a　guarantee　to　investors。

There　is　a　bookkeeper　and　an　assistant；　and　a　general　atmosphere　of
varnish　and　culpability。

At　another　desk　the　eye　is　relieved　by　the　sight　of　an　ordinary　man；
attired　with　unscrupulous　plainness；　sitting　with　his　feet　up；　eating
apples；　with　his　obnoxious　hat　on　the　back　of　his　head。　That　man　is　no
other　than　Colonel　Tecumseh　（once　〃Parleyvoo〃）　Pickens；　the　vice…
president　of　the　company。

〃No　recherche　rags　for　me；〃　I　says