# Speedy (Holman)/Chapter 9

It has been said that the best way not to meet somebody you are anxious to avoid is to live in the same New York apartment house with them. In the metropolis one seldom knows the name of the persons occupying the next rooms and the family the next house away might just as well be living in Dubuque. It is the city of strangers.
But De Lacey Street is different. De Lacey Street is one of those all too rare New York communities within the great city that are little worlds of their own. In De Lacey Street neighbor knows neighbor by his or her first name. They gossip and quarrel and make friends again and share each other's little sorrows and triumphs. The success attained by the sons of the Widow Feeley is a matter of neighborhood pride and the happy-go-luckiness of a Speedy Swift concerns the whole street, especially with the knowledge that pretty Jane Dillon thinks so much of the boy.
And the struggle of Pop Dillon to keep his horse car and his franchise against overwhelming odds was watched sympathetically by everybody from Walters, the delicatessen man, to Johnny Burke, the cop.
For Pop Dillon, with his kindly smile and his cheerful politeness, was the favorite of the block.
So Jane received many a telephone call as to his ​condition the night Pop was hurt and there was great rejoicing when it was learned that the veteran would be back on the job as usual the next morning.
And early that morning, which was the same day that Speedy started his career as taxi driver, Jane received news over the 'phone from Chris Walters that made her resolve to accompany Pop on his first trip in the car that day.
Pop arose at his accustomed time that morning.
"I'm going to go down to the barn with you and ride on the first trip," Jane told him.
"Oh, I'll be all right, Janie," he assured her, thinking she was not sure of his fitness for his toil.
"I know you are. But I've got nothing to do and I'm lonesome."
He accepted this excuse, for he knew that Jane was lonesome at times and she often accompanied him on his rounds in the car. Though neither sensed it, there was an air of suppressed excitement up and down De Lacey Street as the young girl and the old man walked along, the pace necessarily slow because Pop walked painfully. Eyes peered at them from behind half opened doors and curtains.
"See anything of Speedy after he left you last night?" Pop asked.
"No—and I don't care to," Jane replied spiritedly, though she didn't mean it. "After what he said about Mr. Carter, who was so nice to us, I should think he would stay away for a while."
"Wonder if he's landed a job."
"Oh, do you suppose he has, and that's what's ​keeping him away?" Jane's anxious tones betrayed her.
"He'll be around tonight," Pop said. "And I wouldn't go scolding him about Carter. After all, we don't know much about this Carter and it's been my experience that Speedy don't usually go so far wrong sizing people up."
Pop unlocked the big door of his car barn with his old-fashioned key. He fed his faithful old mare and waited patiently while the animal ate her breakfast, occupying a bench with Jane alongside the wall. When Nellie had quite finished her succulent repast, Pop curried and polished her gray-white skin until it shone. Then he put the harness on her and led her to the shafts of the car. With Jane standing beside him, he clucked, "Gid-dap," and the first daily trip of the Crosstown Railways was under way.
What happened then lived long in Pop's memory.
De Lacey Street had decided to hold a celebration in honor of their friend and neighbor, Pop Dillon. Between the time Pop and Jane disappeared into the barn and came out again, the street had been transformed. Banners hung from windows and store fronts. "Here's to Good Old Pop Dillon," read several. "Good Luck to Our Neighbor, Pop Dillon," proclaimed another. "Long Life, Pop!" was emblazoned on a third. Similar signs were pasted on merchants' windows. People were hurling confetti and colored streamers from upstairs windows. Small boys were tooting horns and blowing whistles. It was a gorgeous din and confusion. Even old ​Nellie pricked up her ancient ears. Pop stared in amazement. Jane was flushed with excitement and surprise. So this was why they had called her up to make sure Pop would be on the car that day. They had evidently been planning this fete for a long time. Those banners could not have burst into being over night.
And suddenly as Pop stopped on the first street corner to take on the one stray lady who waited there, forty or more people leaped forth from their place of concealment on the other side of Walter's delicatessen store and clamored to get on the car. They were laughing and bantering at Pop's wondering face. They streamed in the front entrance of the car past him. They shook his hand, shouted congratulations and good will. Several pressed bouquets of flowers into his hands and into those of Jane. They even decorated Nellie's harness with posies. They insisted upon Pop collecting their nickels, that they were paying passengers. There were so many of them that half had to stand up and there was even a bevy out on the platform standing beside Pop.
"Half of you out!" shouted Chris Walters, who appeared to be the ring leader in the celebration. "Nellie ain't as young a lady as she used to be."
So the majority of the riders piled out and walked alongside the car shouting while Pop drove in a triumphant parade up the street. Occupants of windows and store entrances hailed him. Johnny Burke, aided by four other policemen, held up all traffic except Pop's antique vehicle.
​At the other end of the line the passengers noisily descended to the street and there was another carful waiting to take their place for the return trip. De Lacey Street knew that Pop Dillon would not accept a donation of money. But he could not refuse the fares of legitimate riders on his line; the law forbade it. So they rode and paid in triumph.
For three or four trips back and forth this lasted. Then Jane, at first overjoyed and touched at this homely tribute being rendered her grandfather, now began to watch the old man carefully. Was the excitement proving too much for him? His face was paling and perspiration stood out on his forehead. The lines were trembling in his hand. She was about to speak to him and suggest that he let her take a turn at driving, as she had often done, when he without a word collapsed and crumpled in a heap on the floor of his platform.
Jane cried out and leaped to his side. But the strong arms of Chris Walters had already gripped Pop. As if understanding what had happened, Nellie stopped abruptly. Chris roared to the people to get off the car and carried Pop to his delicatessen store, in front of which the car happened to be at the moment. Jane brought a glass of water and splashed some in Pop's face. From some unknown source Chris's husky son produced something stronger and forced it down the elderly man's throat. His eyes fluttered and he regained consciousness. In a moment he seemed to be entirely himself.
"That was a darned silly thing to do," he said ​apologetically. "Let me get up. Of course I can stand." And he did.
"Jake Pope drove your car back to the barn," said Chris.
"What for?" asked Pop. "I can drive her. I got a day's work ahead of me."
A tall, dark man pressed forward through the ring of people to Pop's side. It was Steven Carter. The De Lacey Streeters looked curiously at him. He was the man of mystery who had come to board with the Dillons. He must be all right if the Dillons had taken him in, though he didn't look as if he fitted in the neighborhood.
"Won't you come with me, Mr. Dillon?" Carter asked in his velvety tone. "I've a taxi waiting outside with my doctor friend in it."
"Yes, do go, granddad," urged Jane.
Pop really still felt rather weak and, despite his stubborn declaration that he was going back to the car, he allowed himself to be persuaded to seek the taxi instead. There Carter introduced Jane and her grandfather to the portly, smooth-shaven man who was sitting in the tonneau of the car smoking a cigarette in an ivory holder with an air of sangfroid. He had a little medicine case with him. His name, according to Carter, was "Dr. Mason."
When they reached the Dillon home, it took the combined efforts of Jane, Carter and the doctor to induce Pop to lie on the divan while Dr. Mason conducted an examination of him. Mason produced stethoscope, mouth sticks, blood pressure hose and ​other paraphernalia from his satchel and went through a very professional probe.
When he had folded up and tucked away the tools of his trade, he announced, "Nothing organically wrong at present, Mr. Dillon, but there are several indications that there will be very soon unless you give yourself a complete rest. In fact, a rest is absolutely necessary, and at once. You must get away from your work and your present environment. Now what I would suggest is a sojourn of a week or so at Spring Lake Sanitarium in Connecticut. It is a health resort run by a doctor friend of mine—very cheap and not very far from New York. But you must get away at once—today."
"But I can't do that. I must run my car or I lose my franchise. If a single day goes by that I don't make a trip, I'm ruined."
Carter spoke up. "I have a reliable man who will run your car for you," he said promptly. "I lined him up after your—er—accident yesterday. He understands horses. In fact he is an ex-jockey. And I myself will look after him and see that your car makes its regular trips."
Pop hesitated. He really was feeling badly. He doubted if he was equal to going back on the car for a day or so. He was so very tired. And his back pained him cruelly.
As if guessing his thoughts, Dr. Mason says, "Spring Lake Sanitarium specializes in back trouble. They have baths that are very soothing and special electrical apparatus that works wonders."
​Pop hesitated. He looked questioningly at Jane. She was in a quandary. Pop looked very badly; certainly he needed a rest. Oh, if only Speedy were there to advise her. For harum-scarum as he was as a rule, he usually knew the right thing to do in a pinch. Certainly if she allowed Pop to stay on the job and anything did happen to him, she would never forgive herself for not having insisted upon his going away for a rest. Surely this Doctor Mason knew his business. And Mr. Carter, though she did not fancy the sharp, almost possessive way he looked at her sometimes, had been very kind.
"You'd better take Dr. Mason's advice and go to Spring Lake for a few days, granddad," Jane said. "Mr. Carter and I will see that the car runs. You won't have a thing to worry about. And you can get treatments for your back."
In his weakened condition Pop Dillon's fighting spirit was about gone. If Jane trusted this fellow Carter, certainly he could. He nodded his acquiescence.
"Guess it wouldn't do me any harm," he agreed.
"Fine," said Carter at once. "Miss Dillon will pack your bag and she and I will ride with you to Grand Central. You just have time enough to make the noon train."
So Jane, with her heart heavy and doubt still lingering in her mind, laid Pop's spare clothes neatly in his battered old suitcase. She persuaded him to change his working garb for his "Sunday suit," helping him with his dressing, for the old man was quite feeble. Carter summoned a taxi. Dr. Mason ​had departed. The star boarder was very cheerful as he and Jane helped the old man down the front steps and into the waiting cab.
During the ride uptown Pop Dillon, still worrying about his car, issued a constant stream of instructions as to just how the trips were to be made. He regretted that he had not the time or opportunity to inspect Carter's substitute driver and was concerned as to how the new man would treat old Nellie. Jane and Carter strove as best they could to reassure him.
They secured him a comfortable seat in the Hartford Local and set his suitcase up in the rack. Pop carried a letter of introduction from Dr. Mason to the proprietor of the Spring Lake Sanitarium. As a further precaution the physician had offered to telephone Spring Lake that he was coming so that the sanitarium 'bus would be at the station to meet him.
"Tell Speedy to go down to the car barn tonight and see that everything is all right," were his last words to Jane before the conductor cried, "All aboard," and they were forced to leave him. "And tell Chris Walters how sorry I am that I can't come down and play that game of pinochle with the boys in the car as he planned."
Jane kissed him, Carter shook hands, and in another moment Pop was on his way and they were out in the vast Grand Central concourse with the milling crowds.
"Oh, do you suppose everything will be all right?" Jane asked dubiously.
​"Of course," said Carter. "And now suppose you and I get a bite of lunch."
He took her to the Biltmore, an elegant hostelry she had never visited before. The splendor of the place dazzled her. Carter addressed the majordomo at the entrance to the restaurant by his first name and that impressive official called him "Mr. Carter" and led them to a choice table. Jane was tremendously thrilled.
"After all, this is the only proper setting for a pretty girl like you," Carter flattered her, after they had given their order. And as he leaned across the table intimately toward her, she did look very beautiful indeed, her face flushed with this new experience and her worry over Pop.
"It is the first time I have ever been here," she confessed simply. His ardent tone embarrassed her.
"But not the last, I hope—with me," he urged.
She blushed. He was an attractive man in a dangerous sort of way—dark, polished, handsome.
While they were talking, Carter caught the eye of a stout, gray haired, distinguished looking man who was lunching alone at a table near them. The latter made a little beckoning motion with his head. Carter excused himself and went over to him. It was President Donaldson of the Inter-City Railways. Carter slid into the vacant chair beside him.
"How are you coming with the Crosstown business?" Donaldson asked.
"Fine. It's as good as closed," Carter replied. "Tomorrow I'll have the papers signed. It will take all of your $75,000, however."
​"It's worth it to get that spur," the President said. "But mind—no funny business, Carter. We want to secure this property legitimately. The way transit conditions are at present we can't afford any underhanded business."
"Don't worry. Everything will be above board," assured Carter.
He returned to the table where Jane had been demurely waiting.
"That's a traction friend of mine," he told Jane. "I tried to interest him in your grandfather's franchise, but he says it's worthless."
"I'm glad granddad isn't here to hear you say that," said Jane. "He thinks the property will bring a lot of money some day."
"I wish he had accepted the $1,000 offer I made him the other day," said Carter. "I'm afraid it's too late now." Then he leaned toward her and flashed his smile. "But don't let's talk about business now. This is our day. Let's go for a long ride or something."
"I couldn't," declared Jane. "I've got to go home. I haven't done a tap of work in the house today."
"A good-looking girl like you shouldn't have to work," cajoled Carter. "You should wear dazzling clothes and jewelry and have luncheon here every day."
Jane laughed as if this were a great joke. The waiter arrived with their food and they were silent for a while.
While they were awaiting their dessert and coffee, ​Carter remarked, "You'll be lonesome in the house there without your grandfather, won't you?"
"Oh, I'll go and spend the night with Daisy Ryan. I always do when granddad's away or going to be late. I'll see her when I get back to the house."
Carter produced a fat wad of bills and it took a considerable number of them to pay the check, with a generous tip that caused the waiter to offer an obsequious and extra "Thank you" and help Jane on with her coat. Since it was the Inter-City's money, Carter could afford to dispense it liberally.
As they gained the sidewalk outside the Biltmore, Jane uttered a sudden cry of recognition and flew across the sidewalk to a taxicab driver, who, having just opened the door for President Donaldson to enter, was about to mount to his wheel.
"Oh, Danny," Jane cried. "I'm glad I ran into you. Will you please tell Daisy when you get home that I'll be down to spend the night?"
"Sure," Dan replied, at the same time directing a sharp look at the waiting and somewhat annoyed Carter. "Have you seen Speedy?"
"No. I've been looking for him."
"Didn't you know he got a job driving a taxi for the Only One outfit? He's in this neighborhood somewhere. I was supposed to have lunch with him but I missed him. He—"
"Young man," came a vexed voice from the tonneau of Danny's car. "Are you going to drive this car or hold a conversation with this young lady? Because if you are—"
"Right with you, sir," called Danny. And to ​Jane, "Sorry, Jane, I've got to beat it." He jumped up into the seat and was off.
Jane returned to Carter, who was tapping an impatient and highly polished toe on the sidewalk.
"That's Daisy's brother," Jane explained. "I had to tell him about tonight."
Carter recovered his good humor. He hailed the next taxi.
"Sure you won't take a little ride through the Park first?" he asked.
Jane shook her head and he reluctantly told the driver to convey them to De Lacey Street.
The taxi threaded its way slowly through the traffic of Madison Avenue and across the maelstrom of wheels, gasoline and scurrying pedestrians that was 42nd Street. A quick thrusting on of brakes a few blocks farther on threw Carter against Jane, and he did not bother to move back into his former position, though she glanced at him disquietingly a few times. He went on chatting to her, his tones becoming ever more personal and softer.
"In the short time I've been with you, I've grown very fond of you—and your grandfather—Jane," he told her. And added slyly, "If I may call you—Jane."
"You've been very kind to us," she faltered.
"It's been nothing. I'd like to do more for you," he declared.
Something warned her and she edged away from him a little.
"Don't you trust me?" he asked reprovingly.
​"Of course," she said.
"I thought perhaps you had let that rash young Swift influence you."
"Speedy means well," she defended.
"He's got me all wrong," said Carter. "I believe—he's jealous."
Jane smiled uneasily. Carter's arm had stolen around her slim shoulder and was pressing her toward him. She had a mad impulse to shout to the driver to stop, to fling herself out of the taxi. But, she thought, that would be silly. She was no child. Besides, De Lacey Street could not be over five minutes away now.
The pressure on her shoulder increased. He was drawing her to him. She pulled herself impulsively away.
"Please don't do that, Mr. Carter," she pleaded.
"I beg your pardon," he apologized and, removing his arm, slid over to the other side of the seat. "You—made me forget myself. I've grown to like you so. I want to protect and father you, now that your grandfather has gone and young Swift has apparently deserted you."
She said nothing. Perhaps he meant no harm. He seemed so sincerely contrite now.
She did not know the disappointment that was welling up in Carter's sinister breast. He prided himself on his prowess with the ladies and he was loath to admit defeat in the case of this innocent, though very desirable girl. He decided he had been too precipitous. He would bide his time. It should be easier to win her, now that the old man and that ​young whippersnapper Swift were apparently both out of the way.
When they arrived at her home, he courteously helped her out and paid the driver.
"I hope you'll forgive my—er—impulsiveness," he asked her with imploring eyes.
She flushed and laughed. "You shouldn't say the nice things to me that you say to your fine ladies," she said. "Because I might believe you."
"But I meant them," he urged.
She changed the subject. "You'll be sure and send a driver for the car the first thing in the morning?" she asked. "Granddad wouldn't have an easy second if he knew there was a chance the car wouldn't take its regular trips tomorrow."
"I'll send him," Carter promised. "I'll telephone right away and verify his coming. Don't you worry. Leave it to me."
He shook hands and left her at her door.
As he had promised, he telephoned from the nearest point, the booth at the corner. But the call was directed to Puggy Callahan.
"Everything's all set," he told the redoubtable Puggy. "That car won't go out tomorrow. The only chance of anything going wrong is for this young Swift to get gay. And that's up to you. If I need you to take care of him, I'll give you a ring tonight or first thing in the morning."
"O.K., boss," came the guttural tones of Puggy.
Carter walked out of the booth very much pleased with himself and gave the gum-chewing miss in the drug store a flirtatious smile as he purchased from ​her one of her best cigars. In fact he felt so fine that on second thought he returned to the booth and gave the number of another of his agents.
"Hello—Mason?" he said when the connection was made. "Or I should say—'Doctor' Mason—the greatest guy that ever got kicked out of medical school for cheating in his examinations. Well, your knowledge of the bone-setting business sure came in handy this morning, 'Doc.' How about a big game of poker tonight? At my apartment. Good. Til get the boys together and we'll celebrate."