The Substitute Millionaire Page #4

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

								


More than anything Mr. Delamare had said, this last little sentence made Jack feel like a millionaire.

"Here's a pocket check book.  Make out your check and I'll send it to the teller with my O.K.  You don't want to go out there yourself for the reporters are lying in wait for you.  That's why I told you to send in an assumed name.  They pester the life out of me.  As soon as you're safely out of the way I'll give out the story and be rid of them."

Jack took the offered pen and wrote his check, the banker watching him with a smile.  At the line for the amount Jack stuck; he thought of a hundred dollars, five hundred, a thousand; higher than a thousand he dared not go.

"Is that too much?" he asked, gasping a little.

"Not at all!" said Mr. Delamare, laughing.  "Merely your income for about half an hour!"

3

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.
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