What has it paid? demanded Mr. Tutt ironically.
Twenty per cent, replied Mrs. Effingham. I get Mr. Badger's check regularly every six months.
How many times have you got it?
Twice.
Well, why don't you like your investment? inquired Mr. Tutt blandly. I'd like something that would pay me twenty per cent a year!
Because I'm afraid Mr. Badger isn't quite truthful, and one of the ladies-that old Mrs. Channing; you remember her, don't you-the one with the curls?-she tried to sell her stock and nobody would make a bid on it at all-and when she spoke to Mr. Badger about it he became very angry and swore right in front of her. Then somebody told me that Mr. Badger had been arrested once for something-and-and-Oh, I wish I hadn't given him the money, because if it's lost Jessie won't have anything to live on after I'm dead-and she's too sick to work. What do you think, Mr. Tutt? Do you suppose Mr. Badger would buy the stock back?
Mr. Tutt smiled grimly.
Not if I know him! Have you got your stock with you?
She nodded. Fumbling in her black bag she pulled forth a flaring certificate-of the regulation kind, not even engraved-which evidenced that Sarah Maria Ann Effingham was the legal owner of three hundred and thirty thousand shares of the capital stock of the Great Geyser Texan Petroleum and Llano Estacado Land Company.
Mr. Tutt took it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. It was signed ALFRED HAYNES BADGER, Pres., and he had an almost irresistible temptation to twist it into a spill and light a stogy with it. But he used a match instead, while Mrs. Effingham watched him apprehensively. Then he handed the stock back to her and poured out another glass of toddy.
Ever been in Mr. Badger's office?
Oh, yes! she answered. It's a lovely office. You can see 'way down the harbor-and over to New Jersey. It's real elegant.
Would you mind going there again? That is, are you on friendly terms with him?
Already a strange, rather desperate plan was half formulated in his mind.
Oh, we're perfectly friendly, she smiled. I generally go down there to get my check.
Whose check is it-his or the company's?
I really don't know, she answered simply. What difference would it make?
Oh, nothing-except that he might claim that he'd loaned you the money.
Loaned it? To me?
Why, yes. One hears of such things.
But it is my money! she cried, stiffening.
You paid that for the stock.
She shook her head helplessly.
I don't understand these things, she murmured. If Jim had been alive it wouldn't have happened. He was so careful.
Husbands have some uses occasionally.
Suddenly she put her hands to her face.
Oh, Mr. Tutt! Please get the money back from him. If you don't something terrible will happen to Jessie!
I'll do my best, he said gently, laying his hand on her fragile shoulder. But I may not be able to do it-and anyhow I'll need your help.
What can I do?
I want you to go down to Mr. Badger's office to-morrow morning and tell him that you are so much pleased with your investment that you would like to turn all your securities over to him to sell and put the money into the Great Geyser Texan Petroleum and Llano Estacado Land Company.
He rolled out the words with unction.
But I don't!
Oh, yes, you do! he assured her. You want to do just what I tell you, don't you?
He rolled out the words with unction.
But I don't!
Oh, yes, you do! he assured her. You want to do just what I tell you, don't you?
Of course, she answered. But I thought you didn't like Mr. Badger's oil company.
Whether I like it or not makes no difference. I want you to say just what I tell you.
Oh, very well, Mr. Tutt.
Then you must tell him about the note, and that first it will have to be paid off.
Yes.
And then you must hand him a letter which I will dictate to you now.
She flushed slightly, her eyes bright with excitement.
You're sure it's perfectly honest, Mr. Tutt? I wouldn't want to do anything unfair!
Would you be honest with a burglar?
But Mr. Badger isn't a burglar!
No-he's only about a thousand times worse. He's a robber of widows and orphans. He isn't man enough to take a chance at housebreaking.
I don't know what you mean, she sighed. Where shall I write?
Mr. Tutt cleared a space upon his desk, handed her a pad and dipped a pen in the ink while she took off her gloves.
Address the note to the bank, he directed.
She did so.
Now say: 'Kindly deliver to Mr. Badger all the securities I have on deposit with you, whenever he pays my note. Very truly yours, Sarah Maria Ann Effingham.'
But I don't want him to have my securities! she retorted.
Oh, you won't mind! You'll be lucky to get Mr. Badger to take back your oil stock on any terms. Leave the certificate with me, laughed Mr. Tutt, rubbing his long thin hands together almost gleefully. And now as it is getting rather late perhaps you will do me the honor of letting me escort you home.
It was midnight before Mr. Tutt went to bed. In the first place he had felt himself so neglectful of Mrs. Effingham that after he had taken her home he had sat there a long time talking over the old lady's affairs and making the acquaintance of the phthisical Jessie, who turned out to be a wistful little creature with great liquid eyes and a delicate transparent skin that foretold only too clearly what was to be her future. There was only one place for her, Mr. Tutt told himself-Arizona; and by the grace of God she should go there, Badger or no Badger!