Mr. Eugene Wobbles, who tried to live down his American ancestry in London clubs and was, consequently, more British than any Englishman, came to Mr. Courtney lazily apologetic.
"I fancy I'm going to give you a lot of bother, my dear Courtney," he observed, lounging feebly against the porch rail.
"I prefer bother to almost anything," returned his host pleasantly; "it gives me something to do."
"Rather clever that," laughed Eugene, swinging his monocle with one hand and stroking his drooping yellow mustache with the other. "Really I never thought of bother in that way before. Keeps one bothered, I think you said," and he gazed out over the broad lawn where the young people were noisily congregating, in pleasant contemplation of Courtney's wonderful new philosophy.
"What is this particular bother?" gently suggested Courtney after a pause.
"Oh, yes," responded Eugene, "we were discussing that, weren't we? I've a rotten memory; but my oldest brother, Tommy, can't even remember his middle initial. Pretty good that, don't you think; Tommy is a perfect ass in every respect." And idly considering Tommy's perfection as an ass, he turned and gazed down into the ravine where Courtney had built some attractive little waterfalls and cave paths. "About how deep should you say it was down there, Courtney?"
"Three hundred and fifty feet," answered Courtney. "I think you were speaking about a little bother."
"Oh, yes, so I was," agreed Eugene. "Very good of you to remind me of it. You know, Courtney, Mr. Gamble—who wants to buy some land of ours—has made the remarkable discovery that we're all here together. First time in years, I assure you. No matter how necessary it may be for us to hold a complete family council, one of my brothers—most unreliable people in the world, I think—is always missing."
"And when they're all together I suppose you are somewhere else," suggested Courtney.
That proposition was so unique that Eugene was forced to spend profound thought on it.
"Curious, isn't it?" he finally admitted. "A chap becomes so in the habit of thinking that he is himself always present, wherever he happens to be, that it's no end starting to reflect that sometimes he isn't."
"I see," said Courtney, grasping eagerly at the light. "You merely happen to be all here at the same time, and you think it advisable to hold a family business meeting because the accident may never occur again. Sensible idea, Eugene. The east loggia off the second-floor hall is just the place. Assemble there and I'll send you any weapons you want."
"Perfectly stunning how you Americans grasp things!" commented Eugene, agape with admiration. "But I say, old chap, that's a joke about the weapons. Really, we shan't need them."
"You're quite right; I was joking," returned Courtney gravely. "I'll go right up and have some chairs and tables put out on the loggia."
"I knew it would be a deuced lot of bother for you," regretted Eugene apologetically. "It's a lot of face in us to ask it. So crude, you know. By the way, should you say that this Mr. Gamble chap was all sorts reliable?"
"Absolutely," Courtney emphatically assured him.
"Ow," returned Eugene reflectively. "And his solicitor fellow, Loring?"
"Perfectly trustworthy."
"Ow," commented Eugene, and fell into a study so deep that Courtney was able to escape without being missed.
In the library, where he went to ring for a servant, he found Constance Joy looking gloomily out of a window, with a magazine upside down in her hands. She immediately rose.
"Don't let me disturb you," begged Courtney as he rang the bell. "Do you know where I can find Johnny Gamble?"
"I really couldn't say," replied Constance sweetly. "I left him out in the gardens a few minutes ago." And she made for the door, confident that she had not spoken with apparent haste, embarrassment or coldness.
"Won't you please tell him that Joe Close and Morton Washer and Colonel Bouncer are coming out on the next train?" requested Courtney. "You're sure to see him by and by, I know."
"With pleasure," lied Constance miserably, and hurried to finish her escape. At the door, however, she suddenly turned and came back, walking nonchalantly but hastily out through the windows upon the side porch. A second later Paul Gresham and Billy Wobbles, the latter walking with temperamental knees, passed through the hall.
Courtney looked after Constance in perplexity, but, a servant entering, he gave orders for the furnishing of the loggia and went up to make sure of the arrangements. He found Johnny Gamble in moody solitude, studying with deep intensity the braiding of his sailor straw hat.
"Hello, Johnny!" hailed Courtney cordially. "I was just asking Miss Joy about you."
Johnny looked at him with reproachful eyes. Courtney was to blame for his present gloom.
"Thanks," he returned. "What did she say?"
"Not much," replied Courtney, smiling slyly. "She didn't know where you were, but she's looking for you."
"Where is she?" asked Johnny, jumping up with alacrity.
"She just went out on the side porch of the library," announced Courtney. "Her message is from me, however. Washer and Close and the colonel are coming out this noon."
"Thanks," replied Johnny starting away. "Did I understand you to say the side porch of the library?"
A thin-legged figure stopped in the door and twitched.
"Mornin'," it observed. "I knew Eugene's intellect was woozing again. Always announcing some plan for us to bore each other, don't you know, and never having it come off."
"This is the place and the hour, Reggie," declared Mr. Courtney. "If you'll just stay here I'll send you out a brandy and soda and some cigars."
"Thanks awfully, old man," returned Reggie, looking dubiously out at the loggia. It was enticing enough, with its broad, cool, tiled flooring and its vine-hung arches and its vistas of the tree-clad hills across the ravine; but it was empty. "I think I'll return when the rest of them are together.", And Reggie, stumbling against the door-jamb on his way out, wandered away, choosing the right-hand passage because his body had happened to lurch in that direction.
"Johnny, if you say anything I'll be peevish," protested Courtney in advance. "Please remember that the gentleman is a guest of mine."
"I was grinning at something else," Johnny soothed him, still grinning, however.
"I apologize," observed Courtney. "Do you think the Wobbles family will hold their conclave if each of them waits until all the others are together?"
"I hope so," replied Johnny. "I'll make some money if they do."
"How rude!" expostulated Courtney with a laugh. "Business at a week-end house-party!"
"Business is right," confessed Johnny. "They admit that you run the best private exchange in America out here."
Courtney, enjoying that remark, laughed heartily.
"I'm glad they give me credit," he acknowledged. "Well, help yourself to all the facilities. Where are you going?"
"Library porch," answered Johnny promptly. "Excuse me, I'm in a hurry."
Constance Joy was not on the library porch. Instead, Johnny found there Polly Parsons and her adopted sister Winnie, Ashley Loring and Sammy Chirp. This being almost a family party for Johnny, he had no hesitation in asking bluntly for Constance.
"This is her morning for Wobbling," returned Polly disdainfully. "A while ago she was dodging the perfectly careless compliments of old Tommy and trying not to see that his toupee was on crooked; and now she's down toward the ravine some place, watching young Cecil stumble. You could make yourself a very solid Johnny by trotting right down there and breaking up the party."
"I think I'd rather have a messenger for that," calculated Johnny. "His brothers wish to see Cecil up in the east loggia."
"Sammy will go," offered Winnie confidently; whereat Sammy, smiling affably, promptly rose.
"Go with him, Winnie," ordered Polly. "Trot on now, both of you. I want to talk sense."
Quite cheerfully Winnie gave Sammy her fan, her parasol, her vanity box, her novel, her box of chocolates and her hat, stuffed a handkerchief in his pocket and said: "Come on, Sammy; I'm ready."
"Constance showed me that schedule last night, Johnny," rattled Polly. "You ought to see it, Loring. On Wednesday, at four o'clock, he was exactly even with it; five hundred thousand dollars to the good."
"I know," laughed Loring, "and he'll beat his schedule if the Wobbleses will only hold steady for ten minutes."
"You don't mean to say that a Wobbles could be useful!" protested Polly.
"Half a million dollars' worth," Loring informed her; then he drew his chair closer and lowered his voice. "It's a funny story, Polly. Two weeks ago Johnny took Courtney and Close and Washer and Colonel Bouncer up to the Bronx in my machine and arranged to sell them a subdivision for three and a half million dollars."
"Help!" gasped Polly. "Burglar!"
"They'll double their money," asserted Johnny indignantly. "Fanciest neglected opportunity within a gallon of gasolene from Forty-second Street."
"Trouble is, Johnny didn't own it and doesn't yet," laughed Loring. "He's been trying to buy it from the Wobbleses ever since he arranged to sell it."
"He'll get it," decided Polly confidently.
"Will they agree when they get together?" Loring worried. "Individually each one needs the money, and each one is satisfied with Johnny's offer of three million cash."
"Don't say another word," ordered Polly. "I have to figure this out. Why, Johnny, if you carry this through it will finish your million, and this is only the thirteenth of May. That's going some! You weren't supposed to have it till the thirty-first. Polly's proud of you!"
"I don't think you get the joke of this yet, though, Polly," Loring went on. "The Wobbleses don't know that Johnny had already arranged to sell their land, and the subdivision company doesn't know that the beautiful Bronx tract is the Wobbles estate. In the meantime both parties are here, and I'm lurking behind the scenery with all the necessary papers ready to sign, seal and deliver."
"Hush!" commanded Polly; "I'm getting excited. It sounds like the finish of the third act. Oh, lookee! Who's the graceful party with Gresham?"
Both Johnny and Loring glanced up at a tall, suave, easy-moving gentleman, whose clothing fitted him like a matinee idol's, whose closely trimmed beard would have served as a model for the nobility anywhere, and whose smile was sickening sweet.
"Eugene Wobbles' friend, Birchard," stated Johnny, who kept himself well posted on Wobbles affairs. "He's always either with Gresham or a Wobbles, and he travels for a living, I believe." And Johnny suddenly rose.
Coming from the direction of the ravine were Constance and Cecil, Winnie and Sammy, and passing Gresham and Birchard with the nod of compulsion Johnny walked carelessly on to meet the quartet.
"Good morning, Cecil," he observed. "Your brothers are about to hold a meeting in the east loggia, and I think they're looking for you."
"No doubt," admitted Cecil wearily. "It's barely possible that one or two of them are already believing that they will go up. Do you know, I think I shall establish a record for family promptness, if I may be excused. Most annoying to be torn away from such a jolly talk, I'm sure." And receiving the full and free permission of the company to depart he did so, changing his mind twice about whether to go through the rose arbor or round by the sun-dial.
Johnny swung in by the side of Constance.
"Some one told me you had a message for me," he blundered.
"Who said so?" she was cruel enough to ask.
Johnny turned pink, but he was brave and replied with the truth.
"Mr. Courtney," he admitted.
"So I imagined," she answered icily. "Mr. Washer and Mr. Close and Colonel Bouncer are to arrive on the noon train. You'll excuse me, won't you, please?" And she hurried on to the house by herself to dress for luncheon.
Johnny Gamble tried to say "Certainly", but he dropped his sailor straw hat. Constance heard it and every muscle in her body jumped and stiffened. Johnny turned to business as a disappointed lover turns to drink.
There seemed a conspicuous dearth of Wobbleses on the east loggia that morning. Loring, pathetically faithful to his post, entertained them in relays as Johnny brought them up: sometimes one, sometimes two, and once or twice as many as three of them at one time; but they all lost their feeble mooring and drifted away.
Luncheon-time passed; Washer and Bouncer and Close and Courtney went into executive session; two o'clock came, three o'clock, four o'clock, and still no meeting. At the latter hour Johnny, making his tireless rounds but afflicted with despair, located Billy Wobbles, the one with the jerky eyelids and impulsive knees, on the loggia with Loring; Eugene was in the poker room trying numbly to discover the difference between a four-flush and a deuce-high hand; Tommy, his toupee well down toward his scanty white eyebrows, was boring the Courtney girls to the verge of tears; Cecil, stumbling almost rhythmically over his own calves, was playing tennis with Winnie and Sammy and Mrs. Follison; and Reggie, the twitcher, was entertaining Val Russel and Bruce Townley with a story he had started at nine o'clock in the morning.
Suddenly Johnny was visited with a long-sought inspiration and hurried down to the kennels, remembering with much self-scorn that he had dragged each of the Wobbleses away from there at least once.
The master of the dogs was Irish and young, with eyes the color of a six-o'clock sky on a sunny day, and he greeted Johnny with a white-toothed smile that would have melted honey.
"I locked Beauty up, sir," he said with a touch of his cap, referring to the gentle collie that had poked its nose confidingly into Johnny's hand at every visit. "There was too much excitement for her with all the strangers round, but she'll be glad to see you, sir."
"Give Beauty my card and tell her I'll be back," directed Johnny with a friendly glance in the direction of Beauty's summer residence. "Didn't you say something this morning about a crowd of setter puppies?"
"Yes, sir," replied the dog expert proudly. "Several of the gentlemen have been down to see them, but the day has been so hot I didn't care to bring them out. It's cool enough now, sir, if you'd like to see them."
"I'll be back, in five minutes," returned Johnny hastily. "I'll say hello to Beauty first."
Beauty barked and capered when she was let out, and expressed her entire approval of Johnny in fluent dog language, looking after him reproachfully when he hurried away.
Johnny first begged a puppy of Courtney, then he brought Eugene Wobbles and Tommy Wobbles and Billy and Cecil and Reggie Wobbles down in turns to pick it out for him. Each of the Wobbleses was still there, deciding, when he brought another. When the last Wobbles, including their friend Birchard, was in the inclosure Johnny locked the gate and sent Loring on a brisk errand. That energetic commercial attorney returned in a very few minutes, laden with some papers and writing materials, and followed by a servant carrying a wicker table.
"Gentlemen," said Johnny in a quite oratorical tone of voice, "suppose we talk business."
The assembled Wobbleses turned in gasping surprise from the violent family dispute over the puppies.
"Upon my soul, this is a most extraordinary thing!" exclaimed Eugene, looking about him in amazement. "Why, the whole blooming family is here, even Tommy. I say, Tommy, it's perfectly imbecile, with all due respect to you, to prefer that little beggar with the white star."
"I'll back him for a hundred pounds before any official committee," indignantly quavered Tommy, feeling in all the wrong pockets for his betting-book.
"Gentlemen," interposed Johnny most crudely indeed, "I am here to repeat my offer of three million dollars, cash, for your Bronx property; one-half million dollars to-day, one million dollars next Saturday, May twentieth, and the remaining million and a half the following Saturday, May twenty-seventh, title to remain vested in you until the entire amount is paid. Just to show that I mean business I have brought each of you a certified check for one hundred thousand dollars." And he distributed them like diplomas to a class.
Tommy Wobbles, startled to find his toupee on straight, examined his check with much doubt. "I say, you know," he expostulated, "this can't be quite regular!"
"Why not?" inquired Johnny.
"Well—er—it's so very precipitate," responded Tommy, putting the check in his pocket and taking it out again and folding and unfolding it with uncertain fingers. "No time for deliberation and dignity and such rot, you know."
"An advance cash payment of half a million dollars is so full of dignity that its shoes squeak," announced Johnny. "As to delay, I don't see any reason for it. You want to sell the property, don't you?"
Eugene said yes, and the others looked doubtful.
"You're satisfied with the price?" demanded Johnny.
Since Eugene kept silent the others answered that they were.
"You know that by my plan you are perfectly secured until you are fully paid; so there's no reason why we shouldn't wind up the business at once."
"Should you say that this was regular, Birchard?" asked Eugene, toying with his check lovingly. He had just finished figuring that it was worth something like twenty thousand pounds!
"Quite regular indeed," Mr. Birchard smilingly assured him. "Typically American for its directness and decision, but fully as good a business transaction in every way as could be consummated in London."
"Ow, I say," protested Eugene, but he seemed perfectly satisfied, nevertheless.
"As I understand it," went on Mr. Birchard, "Mr. Gamble's proposition is very simple. You are to execute a contract of sale to him to-day, acknowledging receipt of half a million dollars' advance payment, and are at the same time to execute a clear deed that will be placed in the hands of your agent until Mr. Gamble completes his payments. The deed will then be delivered to him and properly recorded. Is this correct, Mr. Gamble?"
"I couldn't say it so well, but that's what I mean," replied Johnny.
"Then, gentlemen," continued Birchard, "I should advise you to sign the papers at once and have the matter off your minds."
Loring had everything ready, but it was Johnny who really conducted the meeting and manipulated the slow-moving Wobbleses so that they concluded the business with small waste of time.
When it was finished Johnny thanked them with intense relief. The Wobbles property was his, and he knew exactly where to sell it at a half-million dollars' profit. His tremendous race for a million was to be won, with a day or so of margin. There were a few technical matters to look after, but in reality the prize was his. He could go to Constance Joy now with a clear conscience and the ability to offer her a fortune equal to the one she would have to relinquish if she married him.
"By the way," said Johnny in parting, "who is your agent?"
"Why, I rather fancy it will be Mr. Birchard," replied Eugene. "Of course nothing is decided as yet, since there are five of us and four stubborn; but I rather fancy it will be Birchard. Eh, old chap?"
"I trust so," responded Birchard with a pleasant smile at Johnny.
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