“I thought you never refused collateral, Mr. McKeever!” challenged Mr. Tutt sternly.
Twenty minutes later the exquisite blonde that acted as Mr. Badger's financial accomplice learned from Mrs. Effingham's faltering lips that the widow would like to see the great man in regard to further investments.
“How does it look, Mabel?” inquired the financier from behind his massive mahogany desk covered with a six by five sheet of plate glass. “Is it a squeal or a fall?”
“Easy money,” answered Mabel with confidence. “She wants to put a mortgage on the farm.”
“Keep her about fourteen minutes, tell her the story of my philanthropies, and then shoot her in,” directed Badger.
So Mrs. Effingham listened politely while Mabel showed her the photographs of Mr. Badger's home for consumptives out in Tyrone, New Mexico, and of his wife and children, taken on the porch of his summer home at Seabright, New Jersey; and then, exactly fourteen minutes having elapsed, she was shot in.
“Ah! Mrs. Effingham! Delighted! Do be seated!” Mr. Badger's smile was like that of the boa constrictor about to swallow the rabbit.
“About my oil stock,” hesitated Mrs. Effingham.
“Well, what about it?” demanded Badger sharply. “Are you dissatisfied with your twenty per cent?”
“Oh, no!” stammered the old lady. “Not at all! I just thought if I could only get the note paid off at the Mustardseed Bank I might ask you to sell the collateral and invest the proceeds in your gusher.”
“Oh!” Mr. Badger beamed with pleasure. “Do you really wish to have me dispose of your securities for you?”
He did not regard it as necessary to inquire into the nature of the collateral. If it was satisfactory to the Mustardseed National it must of course exceed considerably the amount of the note.
“Yes,” answered Mrs. Effingham timidly; and she handed him the letter dictated by Mr. Tutt.
“Well,” replied Mr. Badger thoughtfully, after reading it, “what you ask is rather unusual-quite unusual, I may say, but I think I may be able to attend to the matter for you. Leave it in my hands and think no more about it. How have you been, my dear Mrs. Effingham? You're looking extraordinarily well!”
Mr. McKeever had about concluded his arrangements for welcoming the state bank examiner when the telephone on his desk buzzed, and on taking up the receiver he heard the ingratiating voice of Alfred Haynes Badger.
“Is this the Loan Department of the Mustardseed National?”
“It is,” he answered shortly.
“I understand you hold a note of a certain Mrs. Effingham for ten thousand dollars. May I ask if it is secured?”
“Who is this?” snapped McKeever.
“One of her friends,” replied Mr. Badger amicably.
“Well, we don't discuss our clients' affairs over the telephone. You had better come in here if you have any inquiries to make.”
“But I want to pay the note,” expostulated Mr. Badger.
“Oh! Well, anybody can pay the note who wants to.”
“And of course in that case you would turn over whatever collateral is on deposit to secure the note?”
“If we were so directed.”
“May I ask what collateral there is?”
“I don't know.”
“There is some collateral, I suppose?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I have an order from Mrs. Effingham directing the bank to turn over whatever securities she has on deposit as collateral, on my payment of the note.”
“In that case you'll get 'em,” said Mr. McKeever gruffly. “I'll get them out and have 'em ready for you.”
“Here is my certified check for ten thousand; dollars,” announced Alfred Haynes Badger a few minutes later. “And here is the order from Mrs. Effingham. Now will you kindly turn over to me all the securities?”
Mr. McKeever, knowing something of the reputation of Mr. Badger, first called up the bank which had certified the latter's check, and having ascertained that the certification was genuine he marked Mrs. Effingham's note as paid and then took down from the top of his roll-top desk the bundle of beautifully engraved securities given him by Mr. Tutt. Badger watched him greedily.
“Thank you,” he gurgled, stuffing them into his pocket. “Much obliged for your courtesy. Perhaps you would like me to open an account here?”
“Oh, anybody can open an account who wants to,” remarked Mr. McKeever dryly, turning away from him to something else.
Mr. Badger fairly flew back to his office. The exquisite blonde had hardly ever before seen him exhibit so much agitation.
“What have you pulled this time?” she inquired dreamily. “Father's daguerreotype and the bracelet of mother's hair?”
“I've grabbed off the whole bag of tricks!” he cried. “Look at 'em! We've not seen so much of the real stuff in six months.
“Ten-twenty-thirty-forty-fifty-By gad!-sixty-seventy!”
“What are they?” asked Mabel curiously. “Some bonds-what?”
“I should say so!” he retorted gaily. “Say, girlie, I'll give you the swellest meal of your young life to-night! Chicago Water Front and Terminal, Great Lakes and Canadian Southern, Mohawk and Housatonic, Bluff Creek and Iowa Central. 'Oh, Mabel!'“
It was at just about this period of the celebration that Mr. Tutt entered the outer office and sent in his name; and as Mr. Badger was at the height of his good humor he condescended to see him.
“I have called,” said Mr. Tutt, “in regard to the bonds belonging to my client, Mrs. Effingham. I see you have them on the desk there in front of you. Unfortunately she has changed her mind. She has decided not to have you dispose of her securities.”
Mr. Badger's expression instantly became hostile and defiant.
“It's too late!” he replied. “I have paid off her note and I am going to carry out the rest of the arrangement.”
“Oh,” said Mr. Tutt, “so you are going to sell all her securities and put the proceeds into your bogus oil company-whether she wishes it or not? If you do the district attorney will get after you.”
“I stand on my rights,” snarled Badger. “Anyhow I can sell enough of the securities to pay myself back my ten thousand dollars.”
“And then you'll steal the rest?” inquired Mr. Tutt. “Be careful, my dear sir! Remember there is such a thing as equity, and such a place as Sing Sing.”
Badger gave a cynical laugh.
“You're too late, my friend! I've got a written order-a written order-from your client, as you call her. She can't go back on it now. I've got the bonds and I'm going to dispose of them.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Tutt tolerantly. “You can do as you see fit. But”-and he produced ten genuine one-thousand-dollar bills and exhibited them to Mr. Badger at a safe distance-“I now on behalf of Mrs. Effingham make you a legal tender of the ten thousand dollars you have just paid out to cancel her note, and I demand the return of the securities. Incidentally I beg to inform you that they are not worth the paper they are printed on.”
“Indeed!” sneered Badger. “Well, my dear! old friend, you might have saved yourself the trouble of coming round here. You and your client can go straight to hell. You can keep the money; I'll keep the bonds. See?”
Mr. Tutt sighed and shook his head hopelessly.
Then he put the bills back into his pocket and started slowly for the door.
“You absolutely and finally decline to give up the securities?” he asked plaintively.
“Absolutely and finally?” mocked Mr. Badger with a sweeping bow.
“Dear! Dear!” almost moaned Mr. Tutt. “I'd heard of you a great many times but I never realized before what an unscrupulous man you were! Anyhow, I'm glad to have had a look at you. By the way, if you take the trouble to dig through all that junk you'll find the certificate of stock in the Great Jehoshaphat Oil Company you used to flim flam Mrs. Effingham with out of her ten thousand dollars. Maybe you can use it on someone else! Anyhow, she's about two thousand dollars to the good. It isn't every widow who can get twenty per cent and then get her money back in full.”