Sam brightened. “You got an idea, Johnny? Ain’t nothin’ I’d like better than to see you put one over on him.”
“Thirty-six dollars,” mused Johnny. He walked up to Sam and took the lapel of his coat between his thumb and forefinger.
“No!” cried Sam. “You ain’t going’ to hock my suit. You did that once and I had to stay in here all day while you—”
“Don’t worry, Sam,” Johnny said, “they wouldn’t give me over seven or eight dollars for this suit. But did you ever notice the kind of suits Peabody wears? Real nice material — must cost him a hundred and fifty dollars a suit, maybe two hundred.”
“Yeah, he’s quite a dude,” admitted Sam. Then he reacted sharply. “You ain’t thinkin’ of—”
“Burglary? No. You know, I wouldn’t really steal — not even from a ghoul like Peabody. But borrowing isn’t stealing, is it?”
“Peabody wouldn’t lend you the sleeves out of his vest.”
“Oh, I don’t think he’s that bad. Deep down in his heart, he’s a human being. He has compassion for his fellow man and when he is compelled to lock a guest out of his room it is only the exigencies of our modern business system that forces him to do it.”
“What’re you talking about, Johnny?”
“Peabody. I’m trying to point out that he would like nothing more than to help us out — if he could. I think it’s our duty therefore to help him to help us. In other words, I want you to go down into the lobby and watch Peabody. As long as he stays behind the desk fine, but the moment he comes out and heads for the elevator I want you to grab the house phone and call Peabody’s room—”
“What for? He’ll still be in the elevator, won’t he?”
“He’ll be in the elevator, but I won’t. I’ll be in Peabody’s room.”
“You ain’t going’ to rob him?” Sam cried.
“Of course not. I just got through telling you that I’m going to help Peabody help us. He can’t do it himself, so I’ve got to help him — well, never mind, just do what I tell you.”
“But how’re you going to get into his room without a key?”
“The passkey, how else?” Johnny drew a key from his pocket and exhibited it. “I’ve had this for a long time — just in case...”
Sam rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. “I don’t know what this is all about, but I’ll do it. If he heads for the elevator I grab the phone. Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
They left the room together and Sam waited for the elevator to take him down to the lobby. Johnny took the stairs, climbing up to the sixteenth floor, where the hotel manager occupied a suite. He stepped cautiously to the door, listened a moment, then knocked discreetly. There was no response and after waiting another moment, Johnny put the passkey into the lock and turned it. He opened the door quickly and entered.
Peabody’s suite consisted of two rooms, a sitting room and a bedroom. The rooms were large and nicely furnished, much better than the regular rooms in the hotel.
Johnny sent a quick look around the room and headed for the clothes closet. The hotel manager had at least a half-dozen finely tailored suits in the closet, in addition to several sport jackets and slacks. Johnny ran over the suits and picked out a blue serge with a white pin stripe. It was the newest-looking of the suits, having probably been worn only once or twice.
He grinned crookedly as he moved to the door, but panic whipped through him as the phone suddenly shrilled. He jerked open the hall door and bounded out into the corridor.
Fortunately the stairs were not too far away and he took them quickly down to the eighth floor. On the eighth floor he stopped to catch his breath, then walked casually to the elevators and pushed the “down” button.
7
A few minutes later he stepped out into the lobby. Sam Cragg, near the house phones, came over briskly.
“He catch you?” Sam asked. “I hardly got down than he headed for the elevator. Hey” — He noted the suit over Johnny’s arm — “where’d you get that?”
“Where do you think? Peabody loaned it to me.”
“How could he when he was downstairs in the lobby while you were up—”
“Never mind, Sam, I’ll draw you a picture of it.”
Outside, they walked briskly to Eighth Avenue. They passed Uncle Ben’s Loan Shop, but went on to Uncle Charlie’s Friendly Loans.
Uncle Charlie was a redheaded man with ulcers, which is an occupational disease with pawnbrokers. He regarded Johnny and Sam sourly.
“Uncle Charlie,” Johnny said brightly, “it’s certainly a pleasure to see you again.”
“The pleasure’s all yours,” Uncle Charlie retorted.
“I just passed Uncle Ben’s place,” Johnny went on unheeding. “Sam wanted me to go in, but I said no, Uncle Charlie’s been awfully good to us in the past and it’s up to us to repay him—”
“Mister,” interrupted Uncle Charlie, “I remember you now. Do me a favor, will you?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“All right, go to Uncle Ben, will you?”
“Why, Uncle Charlie!” exclaimed Johnny. “I just got through telling you, I owe you a favor—”
“All right, all right,” howled Uncle Charlie. “That’s what I’m telling you — go to Uncle Ben. Do me that favor. I got ulcers—”
“So has Uncle Ben.” Johnny held up Mr. Peabody’s blue pin-striped suit. “Brand-new, never been worn. Real English wool, styled and tailored by Quintino and you know what that means — the best!”
“A suit’s a suit,” groaned Uncle Charlie. “I’m telling you, my ulcers are acting up. I ain’t in the mood. If it was hemstitched in gold thread and there was purple lining mixed with Egyptian cobwebs, I couldn’t go over fif—”
“Not fifty!” cried Johnny. “I couldn’t possibly let you have it for less than seventy-five!”
“Fifty, who said fifty? Fifteen dollars, and not a nickel more.”
“Sixty bucks and you got yourself a deal,” cut in Sam.
Johnny gave Sam an anguished look. “Sam, please stay out of this, will you? Uncle Charlie and I understand each other. We know the value of merchandise.”
“I ain’t feeling good,” moaned Uncle Charlie. “I told you I wasn’t up to this. But now that we’ve started, all right, all right, take twenty dollars.”
“Forty-seven fifty,” said Johnny. “And Quintino will hate me for it. Two hundred and twenty-five dollars he’s charging for such a suit now. If he heard that I was thinking of letting this brand-new suit go for forty-seven...”
“Brand-new in a pig’s eye,” snorted Uncle Charlie. “That suit’s two years old.”
“I just took it out of the box. Here — feel. The nap isn’t even lying down yet...”
Uncle Charlie took the lapel of the suit between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed it, rubbed it and then caressed it “Six months it’s been worn. Twenty-five, mister!”
“I hear you,” Johnny said. “Not good, but I hear you. Forty-five and it’s a loan, that’s all. Not an outright sale.”
“I should hope so. I couldn’t sell this suit nohow. Twenty-seven fifty. I’ll make out the ticket.”
“Make it out for forty.”
“My last offer. Take it or leave it. Twenty-nine seventy-five.”
“Look, Uncle Charlie,” Johnny said, giving it everything, “I’ve done business with you in the past. You’ve made money off me — a lot of money. I don’t mind that. A man’s got to live. That’s my motto, live and let live. It’s a good motto, too, but some people don’t think so. The manager of our hotel, for instance. We owe him a measly little thirty-six dollars—”
“No, no, not thirty-six dollars. I couldn’t make it. You’d let me keep the suit and I’d be stuck.”