Children of the Whirlwind
colorful, vital, high-strung. Before he had gone away he had regarded
her with something akin to the negligent affection of an older brother.
But this thing which was already beginning to surge up in him was
altogether different, and he knew it.
As for Maggie, when she looked at him, she flushed and her eyes grew
bright. Larry was back!--the brilliant, daring Larry. She was aware that
she had been successful in startling and gripping his attention. Yes,
they would do great things together!
When the dinner was finished and the dishes washed, Larry gave voice to
this new urge that had so quickly grown up within him.
“What do you say, Maggie, to a little walk?”
“All right,” she replied eagerly.
They went down the narrow stairway together. On the landing of the
second floor, which contained only Maggie's bedroom and the Duchess's
and a tiny kitchen, Maggie started to leave him to change into street
clothes; but he caught her arm and said, “Come on.” They descended the
next flight and came into the back room behind the pawnshop, which the
Duchess used as a combination of sitting-room, office, and storeroom.
About this musty museum hung or stood unredeemed seamen's jackets, men
and women's evening wear, banjos, guitars, violins, umbrellas, and one
huge green stuffed parrot sitting on top of the Duchess's safe.
“I wanted to talk, not walk,” he said. “Let's stay here.”
He took her hands and looked down on her steadily. Under the yellow
gaslight her face gleamed excitedly up into his, her breath came
quickly.
“Well, sir, what do you think of me?” she demanded. “Have I changed
much?”
“Changed? Why, it's magic, Maggie! I left you a schoolgirl; you're a
woman now. And a wonder!”
“You think so?” She flushed with pride and pleasure, and a wildness of
spirit possessed her and demanded expression in action. She freed
her left hand and slipped it over Larry's shoulder. “Come on--let's
two-step.”
“But, Maggie, I've forgotten.”
“Come on!”
Instantly she was dragging him over the scanty floor space. But after a
moment he halted, protesting.
“These prison brogans were not intended by their builders for such
work. If you've got to dance, you'll have to work it out of your system
alone.”
“All right!”
At once, in the midst of the dingy room, humming the music, she
was doing Carmen's dance--wild, provocative, alluring. It was not a
remarkable performance in any professionally technical sense; but it had
vivid personality; she was light, lithe, graceful, flashing with color
and spirits.
“Maggie!” he exclaimed, when she had finished and stood before him
glowing and panting. “Good! Where did you learn that?”
“In the chorus of a cabaret revue.”
“Is that what you're doing now, working in a chorus?”
“No. Barney and father said a chorus was no place for me.” She drew
nearer. “Oh, Larry, I've such a lot to tell you.”
“Go on.”
“Well”--she cocked her head impishly--“I've been going to school.”
“Going to school! Where?”
“Lots of places. Just now I'm going to school at the Ritzmore Hotel.”
“At the Ritzmore Hotel!” He stared at her bewildered. “What are you
learning there?”
“To be a lady.” She laughed at his increasing bewilderment. “A real
lady, Larry,” she went on excitedly. “Oh, it's such a wonderful idea!
Father had never seemed to think much of me till the night I went to
a masquerade ball with Mr. Hunt, and he and Barney saw me in these
clothes. They had never seen me really dressed up before; Barney said it
was an eye-opener. They saw how I could be of big use to you all. But to
be that, I've got to be a lady--a real lady, who knows how to behave and
wear real clothes. That's what they're doing now: making me a lady.”
“Making you a lady!” exclaimed Larry. “How?”
“By putting me where I can watch real ladies, and study them. Barney cut
short my being in a chorus; Barney said a chorus girl never learned to
pass for a lady. So I've been working in places where the swellest women
come. First in a milliner shop; then as dresser to a model in the shop
of a swell modiste; always watching how the ladies behave. Now I'm at
the Ritzmore, and I carry a tray of cigarettes around the tables at
lunch and at tea-time and during dinner and during the after-theater
supper. I'm supposed to be there to sell cigarettes, but I'm really
there to watch how the ladies handle their knives and forks and behave
toward the men. Isn't it all awfully clever?”
“Why, Maggie!” he exclaimed.
“And pretty soon, when I've learned more,” she continued rapidly, “I'm
going to have swell clothes of my own--and be a lady--and get away from
this dingy, stuffy, dead old place! I can't stand for being buried down
here much longer. And, oh, Larry, I'm going to begin to work with you!”
“What?” he blinked, not yet quite understanding.
“You think I'm not clever enough? But I am!” she protested. “I tell you
I've learned a lot. And Barney and father have let me help in a lot of
things--nothing really big yet, of course. They think I'm going to be
a wonder. Just to-day father was saying that you and I, teamed up--Why,
what's the matter, Larry?”
“You and I--teamed up,” he repeated slowly.
“Yes. Don't you like the idea?”
His hands suddenly gripped her bare shoulders.
“There's nothing to it!” he exclaimed almost savagely.
“What's that?” she cried, startled.
“I tell you there's nothing to it!”
“You--you think I can't put it over?”
“You can't! And I'm not going to have it!”
“Why--why--”
Staring, she drew slowly away from him. His face, which a few moments
before had been smiling, was now harsh and dominant with decision.
She had heard him spoken of as “Laughing Larry”; and also as “Terrible
Larry” whose aroused will none could brook. He looked this latter person
now, and she could not understand.
But though she could not understand, her own defiant spirit stormed up
to fight this unexpected opposition. He didn't believe in her--that was
it! He didn't think she was equal to working with him! Her young figure
stiffened in angered pride, and her mind was gathering hot phrases
to fling at him when the door from the pawnshop began to creak open.
Instantly Larry turned toward it, relaxed and yet alert for anything.
Old Jimmie and Barney Palmer entered.
“Hello, Larry!” cried the old man, crossing. “Welcome to our city!”
“Hello, Jimmie. Hello, Barney.” And Larry shook hands with his partners
of other days.
“Gee, Larry, it's good to see you!” exclaimed the cunning-eyed old man.
“Didn't know you were back till I bumped into Gavegan on Broadway. He
told me, and so Barney and I beat it over here to see you. Believe me,
Larry, that flatfoot is certainly sore at you!”
Larry ignored the last sentence. “Think it exactly wise for you two to
come here?”
“Why, Larry?”
“Gavegan, Casey, the police, may follow, thinking you've come to see me
for some purpose. That outfit may act upon suspicion.”
Jimmie grinned cunningly. “A man can come to visit his own daughter as
often as he likes. Father love, Larry.”
“I see; that'll be your explanation.” Larry's eyes grew keen at the new
understanding. “I hadn't thought of that before, Jimmie. So that's why
you've always boarded Maggie around in shady joints: so's you could meet
your pals and yet always have the excuse that you had come to meet your
daughter?”
“Partly that,” smiled Old Jimmie blandly--perhaps too blandly. “Suppose
we sit down.”
They did so, Maggie sitting a little apart from the men and regarding
Larry with indignant, questioning eyes. She still could not understand
his queer behavior when she had announced her intention of working with
him. Could it be, as her father had said, because he would never work
with women--not trusting them? She'd show him!
She was so occupied with this wonderment that she gave no heed to the
talk about Larry's experience in Sing Sing and Old Jimmie's recital of
what had happened among Larry's friends during his absence. During this
gossip the Duchess entered from the stairway, and without word to any
one shuffled across to her desk in a corner and bent silently over her
accounts: just one more grotesque and unredeemed pledge in this museum
of antiquities and forgotten pawns.
Presently Barney Palmer, who had been impatient during all this, broke
out with:
“Aw, let's cut out this chatter about what used to be and get down to
cases. Jimmie, will you spill the business to Larry, or want me to?”
“I'll tell him. Listen, Larry.” Maggie pricked up her ears; the talk was
now excitingly important. “We've got our very greatest game all planned
out. Stock-selling game; going to unload the whole thing on one sucker,
and we've got the sucker picked out. Besides you and Barney and me,
there's Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt in it--a classy bunch all
right. And we think that for the woman end we'll take in Mae Gorham.
She's clever and innocent-eyed--”
“But I thought you were going to take me in!” protested Maggie.
“Maggie'll be just as good as Mae Gorham,” put in Barney.
“We'll let that pass,” said Old Jimmie. “The main thing, Larry, is that
everything is ready. It's a whale of a business proposition. We've been
waiting for you; you're all that's lacking--the brainy guy to sit behind
the scenes and manage the thing. You've handled the bunch for a long
time, and they want you to handle this. For you're sure a wonder at
business, Larry! None keener. Well, we've held this off waiting for you
for a month. How about jumping right in?”
All three eyed Larry. His lean face was expressionless. He lit a
cigarette, rose and leaned against the Duchess's safe on which stood the
green parrot, and, gaze on the floor, slowly exhaled smoke through his
nostrils.
“Well?” demanded Barney.
Larry looked at the two men with quiet, even eyes. “Thanks to both of
you. It's a great compliment. But I've had time to do a little planning
myself up in Sing Sing, and I've worked out a game that's got this one
beat a mile.”
“Hell!” ejaculated Barney in wrathful disgust. “Jimmie, I told you we
were wasting time waiting for him!”
“Hold on a second, Barney. If Larry's worked out a better game, he'll
take us into it. But, Larry, how can your game beat this one?”
“Because there's more money in it. And because it's safer.”
“Safe! Aw, hell!” The smouldering jealousy and hatred glared out
of Barney's greenish eyes. “I always knew you had a yellow streak!
Something safe! Aw, hell!”
“Don't blow up, Barney. What is the new game, Larry?” queried the old
man.
Larry regarded the two men steadfastly. He seemed reluctant to speak.
“Well?” prompted Old Jimmie. “Is it something you don't want to let us
in on?”
“Of course I'll let you in on it, and be glad to, if you want to come
in,” Larry replied in his level tone. “As I said, I've thought it all
out and it's a great proposition. Here's the game: I'm going to run
straight.”
For a moment all three sat astounded by this quiet statement from their
leader. Nothing he might have said could have been more unexpected, more
stupefying. The Duchess alone moved; she turned her head and held her
sunken eyes upon her grandson.
Simultaneously the two men and Maggie stood up.
“The hell you say!” grated Barney Palmer.
“Larry, you gone crazy?” cried Old Jimmie.
Maggie moved a pace nearer him. “Going to go straight?” she asked
incredulously.
“Listen, all of you,” Larry said quietly. “No, Jimmie, I've not gone
crazy. I'm merely going a little sane. You just said I was a wonder
at business, Jimmie. I think I am myself. I thought it all over as a
business proposition. Suppose we clean up fifty or a hundred thousand on
a big deal. We've got to split it several ways, perhaps pay a big piece
to the police for protection, perhaps pay a lot of lawyers, and then