The Substitute Millionaire Page #16

Jack Norman had no idea he was Silas Gyde's sole heir—until the multimillionaire was killed by an anarchist's bomb and Jack found himself the richest man in New York. The inheritance included a warning from his benefactor about an elaborate protection scheme promising to protect the wealthy from anarchists, in which Gyde had declined to enroll. Recognizing his own danger, Jack enlists a out-of-work actor to take on his own identity, while he, in the guise of Jack Norman's secretary, works furiously behind the scenes to break up the gang and unmask their leader, the mysterious Mr. B.

• Fiction
• Mystery

								


"Mr. Norman?" inquired the newcomer with a bird-like quirk of the head from one to another.

Jack waved his hand in Bobo's direction.

"Mr. Norman, I have a proposition to make to you."

"My secretary will talk to you," said Bobo with the drawl he now affected.

He went on with his breakfast and the reading of the newspaper--but missed nothing of what was said.  Jack had been well-advised in keeping from him that there was any connection between Mr. Whigham and the Red Gang.  Bobo could scarcely have maintained that air of nonchalance, had he known it.

"What can we do for you?" asked Jack politely "Excuse me if I go on with my breakfast.  We were up late last night."

"Don't mention it," said Mr. Whigham.  "I am early.  I came early on purpose, because I thought later you would be besieged by cranks and triflers of all kinds.  I have a genuine proposition to make Mr. Norman.  It is one I felt ought to get to him without a moment's delay."

"Open it."

Mr. Whigham talked smoothly, and at considerable length.  It had the effect of something well-rehearsed.  Jack, as we know, had it all beforehand.  Only the essential parts of his spiel need be given.

"Both of you gentlemen are no doubt aware of the great increase of anarchistic activity in this country of recent years."

At the word "anarchistic" Bobo started, and let the newspaper sink to the table.

"The police of this and other cities have worked hard to check this evil.  They watch the Reds as well as they are able; close up their meeting-places--when they find them; arrest them on the least shadow of evidence.  This is all right as far as it goes--understand, gentlemen, I am not knocking the police; but the fact remains that the horrible outrages continue.  I need not speak of the latest one which concerns Mr. Norman so closely."

"The police method is like treating an ulcer with external applications only.  You may heal it up, but it will only break out in another place. Now the Eureka Association was formed three years ago to deal with the matter from another angle.  Not in opposition to the police, nor in alliance with them, but quite independently.  We never inform on the Reds nor prosecute them."

"You make friends with them?" suggested Jack.

"In a way, yes.  Our agents become Reds; join their circles, watch them, and report to the main office as to the plots they hatch.  Our organization has now been brought to such a point of perfection that we are in a position to guarantee our subscribers absolute immunity from the attacks of anarchists."

"Was the late Mr. Gyde a member?" Jack asked slyly.

"He was not," said Mr. Whigham significantly.  "He had rejected our respectful solicitations from time to time.  Nevertheless out of pure humanity we warned him of what was about to occur.  With characteristic obstinacy he ignored the warning--well, you know what happened."

"But they say that Emil Jansen, his assailant, was not a member of any regular circle."

"'They say!'" said Mr. Whigham sarcastically.  "What do 'they' know!"

"What's the damage?" asked Jack.

"Hey?" said Mr. Whigham.

"What does the service cost?"

"Five hundred dollars a month."

Jack whistled.  "There's nothing small about you."

Mr. Whigham earnestly pointed out the tremendous expenses attached to the association, including enormous salaries paid to the special agents to recompense them for the risks they ran.

"Why did you say you wanted to get to us without loss of time?"

"We are informed that a plot is already hatching against Mr. Norman. The Reds aim to make a spectacular double play by getting Mr. Gyde's successor."

Bobo gasped and looked imploringly at Jack.

"And if Mr. Norman pays up the five hundred you'll give the plot away?" Jack suggested dryly.

"No, sir," was the instant reply.  "My instructions are to give you what information we have in any case.  The Eureka is something more than a sordid money-making concern.  It supplies a real service to the community.  For a reference I am instructed to give you the name of Mr. Walter Delamare, who is well-known to you."

"Hm!" thought Jack.  "This scheme is even cleverer than I expected." Aloud he asked: "What is the information you have?"

"That a man will be waiting this morning to attack Mr. Norman on the steps of the New York National Bank.  Mr. Norman is advised not to visit Mr. Delamare's office for the time being."

"Good God!" said Bobo.

"What is your pleasure in the matter?" Jack asked Bobo with a respectful air.

"Oh, pay him!  Pay him!" was the agitated reply.

A pleased faraway look appeared in Mr. Whigham's eye.  He was evidently figuring on how he would spend his commission.

"Will you sign a check?" asked Jack.

Jack and Bobo went into the next room, and presently returned with a check, which was handed to Mr. Whigham.  That little gentleman received it with thanks, and bowing, left with a promise to send "the contracts" around as soon as they could be made out.

Jack fell into a study.

"What do you make of it all?" Bobo asked helplessly.

"I may be wrong," said Jack slowly, "but my guess is that Whigham has a nice little wife and baby, and lives in a semi-detached with a neat back yard in Bayonne.  I believe he is a member of the men's bible class and the Y.M.C.A., and is in every way a decent little citizen without a suspicion of the real nature of the devilish business he is engaged in.  We'll have to look a long way past him for the principal."

"Devilish business!" repeated Bobo.  "Don't--don't you believe what he said about the Reds being after you--I mean me, and all?"

"Not a word!  Though I think the worthy little man believed it himself."

"But all that--about the man waiting on the bank steps?"

"Stage-stuff.  Everybody read in the papers that Mr. Delamare was Silas Gyde's executor.  A safe guess that you'd be likely to go to his office to-day.  It was just a stall.  As a matter of fact, we weren't going anyway.  Mr. Delamare is coming here."

"Just the same, I wouldn't go--not for all you've offered me!" said Bobo fervently.

"Sure, that's where the pull of the scheme comes in.  Look at it reasonably.  If the anarchists really meant to croak a millionaire for the good of humanity, as their letter suggested, would they warn him with a letter?  Not on your life!  Those letters were simply to pave the way for Whigham.  But the beauty of the scheme, the novelty of it, lies in the fact that Whigham is not in the secret.  They use an innocent little Sunday-school teacher to collect their tribute!"

"Then you think there's no danger?"

"Oh, danger enough if we had refused to fork out.  There was danger in it for Silas Gyde."

"Well, I'm mighty glad we paid!"

"Sure!  Now let me think.  This matter will stand a lot of doping out."

They soon began to experience the full effects of newspaper publicity. A crowd of newspaper reporters, solicitors, cranks, high-toned beggars, besieged the hotel, and in every delivery arrived a stack of letters a foot high.
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