The Fifth Wheel
The ranks of the Bed Line moved closer together; for it was cold. Theywere alluvial deposit of the stream of life lodged in the delta of FifthAvenue and Broadway. The Bed Liners stamped their freezing feet, lookedat the empty benches in Madison Square whence Jack Frost had evictedthem, and muttered to one another in a confusion of tongues. TheFlatiron Building, with its impious, cloud-piercing architecture loomingmistily above them on the opposite delta, might well have stood for thetower of Babel, whence these polyglot idlers had been called by thewinged walking delegate of the Lord.
Standing on a pine box a head higher than his flock of goats, thePreacher exhorted whatever transient and shifting audience the northwind doled out to him. It was a slave market. Fifteen cents bought you aman. You deeded him to Morpheus; and the recording angel gave youcredit.
The preacher was incredibly earnest and unwearied. He had looked overthe list of things one may do for one's fellow man, and had assumed forhimself the task of putting to bed all who might apply at his soap boxon the nights of Wednesday and Sunday. That left but five nights forother philanthropists to handle; and had they done their part as well,this wicked city might have become a vast Arcadian dormitory where allmight snooze and snore the happy hours away, letting problem plays andthe rent man and business go to the deuce.
The hour of eight was but a little while past; sightseers in a small,dark mass of pay ore were gathered in the shadow of General Worth'smonument. Now and then, shyly, ostentatiously, carelessly, or withconscientious exactness one would step forward and bestow upon thePreacher small bills or silver. Then a lieutenant of Scandinaviancoloring and enthusiasm would march away to a lodging house with a squadof the redeemed. All the while the Preacher exhorted the crowd in termsbeautifully devoid of eloquence--splendid with the deadly, accusativemonotony of truth. Before the picture of the Bed Liners fades you musthear one phrase of the Preacher's--the one that formed his theme thatnight. It is worthy of being stenciled on all the white ribbons in theworld.
_"No man ever learned to be a drunkard on five-cent whisky."_
Think of it, tippler. It covers the ground from the sprouting rye to thePotter's Field.
A clean-profiled, erect young man in the rear rank of the bedlessemulated the terrapin, drawing his head far down into the shell of hiscoat collar. It was a well-cut tweed coat; and the trousers still showedsigns of having flattened themselves beneath the compelling goose. But,conscientiously, I must warn the milliner's apprentice who reads this,expecting a Reginald Montressor in straits, to peruse no further. Theyoung man was no other than Thomas McQuade, ex-coachman, discharged fordrunkenness one month before, and now reduced to the grimy ranks of theone-night bed seekers.
If you live in smaller New York you must know the Van Smuythe familycarriage, drawn by the two 1,500-pound, 100 to 1-shot bays. The carriageis shaped like a bath-tub. In each end of it reclines an old lady VanSmuythe holding a black sunshade the size of a New Year's Eve feathertickler. Before his downfall Thomas McQuade drove the Van Smuythe baysand was himself driven by Annie, the Van Smuythe lady's maid. But it isone of the saddest things about romance that a tight shoe or an emptycommissary or an aching tooth will make a temporary heretic of anyCupid-worshiper. And Thomas's physical troubles were not few. Therefore,his soul was less vexed with thoughts of his lost lady's maid than itwas by the fancied presence of certain non-existent things that hisracked nerves almost convinced him were flying, dancing, crawling, andwriggling on the asphalt and in the air above and around the dismalcampus of the Bed Line army. Nearly four weeks of straight whisky anda diet limited to crackers, bologna, and pickles often guarantees apsycho-zoological sequel. Thus desperate, freezing, angry, beset byphantoms as he was, he felt the need of human sympathy and intercourse.
The Bed Liner standing at his right was a young man of about his ownage, shabby but neat.
"What's the diagnosis of your case, Freddy?" asked Thomas, with thefreemasonic familiarity of the damned--"Booze? That's mine. You don'tlook like a panhandler. Neither am I. A month ago I was pushing thelines over the backs of the finest team of Percheron buffaloes that evermade their mile down Fifth Avenue in 2.85. And look at me now! Say; howdo you come to be at this bed bargain-counter rummage sale."
The other young man seemed to welcome the advances of the airyex-coachman.
"No," said he, "mine isn't exactly a case of drink. Unless we allow thatCupid is a bartender. I married unwisely, according to the opinion of myunforgiving relatives. I've been out of work for a year because I don'tknow how to work; and I've been sick in Bellevue and other hospitals formonths. My wife and kid had to go back to her mother. I was turned outof the hospital yesterday. And I haven't a cent. That's my tale of woe."
"Tough luck," said Thomas. "A man alone can pull through all right. ButI hate to see the women and kids get the worst of it."
Just then there hummed up Fifth Avenue a motor car so splendid, so red,so smoothly running, so craftily demolishing the speed regulations thatit drew the attention even of the listless Bed Liners. Suspended andpinioned on its left side was an extra tire.
When opposite the unfortunate company the fastenings of this tire becameloosed. It fell to the asphalt, bounded and rolled rapidly in the wakeof the flying car.
Thomas McQuade, scenting an opportunity, darted from his place among thePreacher's goats. In thirty seconds he had caught the rolling tire,swung it over his shoulder, and was trotting smartly after the car. Onboth sides of the avenue people were shouting, whistling, and wavingcanes at the red car, pointing to the enterprising Thomas coming up withthe lost tire.
One dollar, Thomas had estimated, was the smallest guerdon that so grandan automobilist could offer for the service he had rendered, and savehis pride.
Two blocks away the car had stopped. There was a little, brown, muffledchauffeur driving, and an imposing gentleman wearing a magnificentsealskin coat and a silk hat on a rear seat.
Thomas proffered the captured tire with his best ex-coachman mannerand a look in the brighter of his reddened eyes that was meant to besuggestive to the extent of a silver coin or two and receptive up tohigher denominations.
But the look was not so construed. The sealskinned gentleman receivedthe tire, placed it inside the car, gazed intently at the ex-coachman,and muttered to himself inscrutable words.
"Strange--strange!" said he. "Once or twice even I, myself, have fanciedthat the Chaldean Chiroscope has availed. Could it be possible?"
Then he addressed less mysterious words to the waiting and hopefulThomas.
"Sir, I thank you for your kind rescue of my tire. And I would ask you,if I may, a question. Do you know the family of Van Smuythes living inWashington Square North?"
"Oughtn't I to?" replied Thomas. "I lived there. Wish I did yet."
The sealskinned gentleman opened a door of the car.
"Step in please," he said. "You have been expected."
Thomas McQuade obeyed with surprise but without hesitation. A seat in amotor car seemed better than standing room in the Bed Line. But afterthe lap-robe had been tucked about him and the auto had sped on itscourse, the peculiarity of the invitation lingered in his mind.
"Maybe the guy hasn't got any change," was his diagnosis. "Lots of theseswell rounders don't lug about any ready money. Guess he'll dump me outwhen he gets to some joint where he can get cash on his mug. Anyhow,it's a cinch that I've got that open-air bed convention beat to afinish."
Submerged in his greatcoat, the mysterious automobilist seemed, himself,to marvel at the surprises of life. "Wonderful! amazing! strange!" herepeated to himself constantly.
When the car had well entered the crosstown Seventies it swung eastwarda half block and stopped before a row of high-stooped, brownstone-fronthouses.
"Be kind enough to enter my house with me," said the sealskinnedgentleman when they had alighted. "He's going to dig up, sure,"reflected Thomas, following him inside.
There was a dim light in the hall. His host conducted him through a doorto the left, closing it after him and leaving them in absolute darkness.Suddenly a luminous globe, strangely decorated, shone faintly inthe centre of an immense room that seemed to Thomas more splendidlyappointed than any he had ever seen on the stage or read of in fairytales.
The walls were hidden by gorgeous red hangings embroidered withfantastic gold figures. At the rear end of the room were drapedportières of dull gold spangled with silver crescents and stars. Thefurniture was of the costliest and rarest styles. The ex-coachman's feetsank into rugs as fleecy and deep as snowdrifts. There were three orfour oddly shaped stands or tables covered with black velvet drapery.
Thomas McQuade took in the splendors of this palatial apartment with oneeye. With the other he looked for his imposing conductor--to find thathe had disappeared.
"B'gee!" muttered Thomas, "this listens like a spook shop. Shouldn'twonder if it ain't one of these Moravian Nights' adventures that youread about. Wonder what became of the furry guy."
Suddenly a stuffed owl that stood on an ebony perch near the illuminatedglobe slowly raised his wings and emitted from his eyes a brilliantelectric glow.
With a fright-born imprecation, Thomas seized a bronze statuette ofHebe from a cabinet near by and hurled it with all his might at theterrifying and impossible fowl. The owl and his perch went over with acrash. With the sound there was a click, and the room was flooded withlight from a dozen frosted globes along the walls and ceiling. The goldportières parted and closed, and the mysterious automobilist entered theroom. He was tall and wore evening dress of perfect cut and accuratetaste. A Vandyke beard of glossy, golden brown, rather long and wavyhair, smoothly parted, and large, magnetic, orientally occult eyes gavehim a most impressive and striking appearance. If you can conceivea Russian Grand Duke in a Rajah's throne-room advancing to greet avisiting Emperor, you will gather something of the majesty of hismanner. But Thomas McQuade was too near his _d t's_ to be mindful of his_p's_ and _q's_. When he viewed this silken, polished, and somewhatterrifying host he thought vaguely of dentists.
"Say, doc," said he resentfully, "that's a hot bird you keep on tap.I hope I didn't break anything. But I've nearly got the williwalloos,and when he threw them 32-candle-power lamps of his on me, I took asnap-shot at him with that little brass Flatiron Girl that stood on thesideboard."
"That is merely a mechanical toy," said the gentleman with a wave of hishand. "May I ask you to be seated while I explain why I brought you tomy house. Perhaps you would not understand nor be in sympathy with thepsychological prompting that caused me to do so. So I will come to thepoint at once by venturing to refer to your admission that you know theVan Smuythe family, of Washington Square North."
"Any silver missing?" asked Thomas tartly. "Any joolry displaced? Ofcourse I know 'em. Any of the old ladies' sunshades disappeared? Well,I know 'em. And then what?"
The Grand Duke rubbed his white hands together softly.
"Wonderful!" he murmured. "Wonderful! Shall I come to believe in theChaldean Chiroscope myself? Let me assure you," he continued, "thatthere is nothing for you to fear. Instead, I think I can promise youthat very good fortune awaits you. We will see."
"Do they want me back?" asked Thomas, with something of his oldprofessional pride in his voice. "I'll promise to cut out the booze anddo the right thing if they'll try me again. But how did you get wise,doc? B'gee, it's the swellest employment agency I was ever in, with itsflashlight owls and so forth."
With an indulgent smile the gracious host begged to be excused for twominutes. He went out to the sidewalk and gave an order to the chauffeur,who still waited with the car. Returning to the mysterious apartment,he sat by his guest and began to entertain him so well by his witty andgenial converse that the poor Bed Liner almost forgot the cold streetsfrom which he had been so recently and so singularly rescued. A servantbrought some tender cold fowl and tea biscuits and a glass of miraculouswine; and Thomas felt the glamour of Arabia envelop him. Thus half anhour sped quickly; and then the honk of the returned motor car at thedoor suddenly drew the Grand Duke to his feet, with another softpetition for a brief absence.
Two women, well muffled against the cold, were admitted at the frontdoor and suavely conducted by the master of the house down the hallthrough another door to the left and into a smaller room, which wasscreened and segregated from the larger front room by heavy, doubleportières. Here the furnishings were even more elegant and exquisitelytasteful than in the other. On a gold-inlaid rosewood table werescattered sheets of white paper and a queer, triangular instrument ortoy, apparently of gold, standing on little wheels.
The taller woman threw back her black veil and loosened her cloak. Shewas fifty, with a wrinkled and sad face. The other, young and plump,took a chair a little distance away and to the rear as a servant or anattendant might have done.
"You sent for me, Professor Cherubusco," said the elder woman, wearily."I hope you have something more definite than usual to say. I've aboutlost the little faith I had in your art. I would not have responded toyour call this evening if my sister had not insisted upon it."
"Madam," said the professor, with his princeliest smile, "the true Artcannot fail. To find the true psychic and potential branch sometimesrequires time. We have not succeeded, I admit, with the cards, thecrystal, the stars, the magic formulæ of Zarazin, nor the Oracle ofPo. But we have at last discovered the true psychic route. The ChaldeanChiroscope has been successful in our search."
The professor's voice had a ring that seemed to proclaim his belief inhis own words. The elderly lady looked at him with a little moreinterest.
"Why, there was no sense in those words that it wrote with my hands onit," she said. "What do you mean?"
"The words were these," said Professor Cherubusco, rising to his fullmagnificent height: "_'By the fifth wheel of the chariot he shallcome.'_"
"I haven't seen many chariots," said the lady, "but I never saw one withfive wheels."
"Progress," said the professor--"progress in science and mechanics hasaccomplished it--though, to be exact, we may speak of it only as anextra tire. Progress in occult art has advanced in proportion. Madam, Irepeat that the Chaldean Chiroscope has succeeded. I can not only answerthe question that you have propounded, but I can produce before youreyes the proof thereof."
And now the lady was disturbed both in her disbelief and in her poise.
"O professor!" she cried anxiously--"When?--where? Has he been found? Donot keep me in suspense."
"I beg you will excuse me for a very few minutes," said ProfessorCherubusco, "and I think I can demonstrate to you the efficacy of thetrue Art."
Thomas was contentedly munching the last crumbs of the bread and fowlwhen the enchanter appeared suddenly at his side.
"Are you willing to return to your old home if you are assured of awelcome and restoration to favor?" he asked, with his courteous, royalsmile.
"Do I look bughouse?" answered Thomas. "Enough of the footback life forme. But will they have me again? The old lady is as fixed in her ways asa nut on a new axle."
"My dear young man," said the other, "she has been searching for youeverywhere."
"Great!" said Thomas. "I'm on the job. That team of dropsicaldromedaries they call horses is a handicap for a first-class coachmanlike myself; but I'll take the job back, sure, doc. They're good peopleto be with."
And now a change came o'er the suave countenance of the Caliph ofBagdad. He looked keenly and suspiciously at the ex-coachman.
"May I ask what your name is?" he said shortly.
"You've been looking for me," said Thomas, "and don't know my name?You're a funny kind of sleuth. You must be one of the Central Officegumshoers. I'm Thomas McQuade, of course; and I've been chauffeur ofthe Van Smuythe elephant team for a year. They fired me a month agofor--well, doc, you saw what I did to your old owl. I went broke onbooze, and when I saw the tire drop off your whiz wagon I was standingin that squad of hoboes at the Worth monument waiting for a free bed.Now, what's the prize for the best answer to all this?"
To his intense surprise Thomas felt himself lifted by the collar anddragged, without a word of explanation, to the front door. This wasopened, and he was kicked forcibly down the steps with one heavy,disillusionizing, humiliating impact of the stupendous Arabian's shoe.
As soon as the ex-coachman had recovered his feet and his wits hehastened as fast as he could eastward toward Broadway.
"Crazy guy," was his estimate of the mysterious automobilist. "Justwanted to have some fun kiddin', I guess. He might have dug up a dollar,anyhow. Now I've got to hurry up and get back to that gang of bum bedhunters before they all get preached to sleep."
When Thomas reached the end of his two-mile walk he found the ranks ofthe homeless reduced to a squad of perhaps eight or ten. He took theproper place of a newcomer at the left end of the rear rank. In a filein front of him was the young man who had spoken to him of hospitals andsomething of a wife and child.
"Sorry to see you back again," said the young man, turning to speak tohim. "I hoped you had struck something better than this."
"Me?" said Thomas. "Oh, I just took a run around the block to keep warm!I see the public ain't lending to the Lord very fast to-night."
"In this kind of weather," said the young man, "charity avails itself ofthe proverb, and both begins and ends at home."
And the Preacher and his vehement lieutenant struck up a last hymn ofpetition to Providence and man. Those of the Bed Liners whose windpipesstill registered above 32 degrees hopelessly and tunelessly joined in.
In the middle of the second verse Thomas saw a sturdy girl withwind-tossed drapery battling against the breeze and coming straighttoward him from the opposite sidewalk. "Annie!" he yelled, and rantoward her.
"You fool, you fool!" she cried, weeping and laughing, and hanging uponhis neck, "why did you do it?"
"The Stuff," explained Thomas briefly. "You know. But subsequently nit.Not a drop." He led her to the curb. "How did you happen to see me?"
"I came to find you," said Annie, holding tight to his sleeve. "Oh, youbig fool! Professor Cherubusco told us that we might find you here."
"Professor Ch---- Don't know the guy. What saloon does he work in?"
"He's a clairvoyant, Thomas; the greatest in the world. He found youwith the Chaldean telescope, he said."
"He's a liar," said Thomas. "I never had it. He never saw me haveanybody's telescope."
"And he said you came in a chariot with five wheels or something."
"Annie," said Thoms solicitously, "you're giving me the wheels now. IfI had a chariot I'd have gone to bed in it long ago. And without anysinging and preaching for a nightcap, either."
"Listen, you big fool. The Missis says she'll take you back. I beggedher to. But you must behave. And you can go up to the house to-night;and your old room over the stable is ready."
"Great!" said Thomas earnestly. "You are It, Annie. But when did thesestunts happen?"
"To-night at Professor Cherubusco's. He sent his automobile for theMissis, and she took me along. I've been there with her before."
"What's the professor's line?"
"He's a clearvoyant and a witch. The Missis consults him. He knowseverything. But he hasn't done the Missis any good yet, though she'spaid him hundreds of dollars. But he told us that the stars told him wecould find you here."
"What's the old lady want this cherry-buster to do?"
"That's a family secret," said Annie. "And now you've asked enoughquestions. Come on home, you big fool."
They had moved but a little way up the street when Thomas stopped.
"Got any dough with you, Annie?" he asked.
Annie looked at him sharply.
"Oh, I know what that look means," said Thomas. "You're wrong. Notanother drop. But there's a guy that was standing next to me in the bedline over there that's in bad shape. He's the right kind, and he's gotwives or kids or something, and he's on the sick list. No booze. If youcould dig up half a dollar for him so he could get a decent bed I'd likeit."
Annie's fingers began to wiggle in her purse.
"Sure, I've got money," said she. "Lots of it. Twelve dollars." And thenshe added, with woman's ineradicable suspicion of vicarious benevolence:"Bring him here and let me see him first."
Thomas went on his mission. The wan Bed Liner came readily enough. Asthe two drew near, Annie looked up from her purse and screamed:
"Mr. Walter-- Oh--Mr. Walter!
"Is that you, Annie?" said the young man meekly.
"Oh, Mr. Walter!--and the Missis hunting high and low for you!"
"Does mother want to see me?" he asked, with a flush coming out on hispale cheek.
"She's been hunting for you high and low. Sure, she wants to see you.She wants you to come home. She's tried police and morgues and lawyersand advertising and detectives and rewards and everything. And then shetook up clearvoyants. You'll go right home, won't you, Mr. Walter?"
"Gladly, if she wants me," said the young man. "Three years is a longtime. I suppose I'll have to walk up, though, unless the street cars aregiving free rides. I used to walk and beat that old plug team of bays weused to drive to the carriage. Have they got them yet?"
"They have," said Thomas, feelingly. "And they'll have 'em ten yearsfrom now. The life of the royal elephantibus truckhorseibus is onehundred and forty-nine years. I'm the coachman. Just got myreappointment five minutes ago. Let's all ride up in a surface car--thatis--er--if Annie will pay the fares."
On the Broadway car Annie handed each one of the prodigals a nickel topay the conductor.
"Seems to me you are mighty reckless the way you throw large sums ofmoney around," said Thomas sarcastically.
"In that purse," said Annie decidedly, "is exactly $11.85. I shall takeevery cent of it to-morrow and give it to professor Cherubusco, thegreatest man in the world."
"Well," said Thomas, "I guess he must be a pretty fly guy to pipe offthings the way he does. I'm glad his spooks told him where you couldfind me. If you'll give me his address, some day I'll go up there,myself, and shake his hand."
Presently Thomas moved tentatively in his seat, and thoughtfully felt anabrasion or two on his knees and his elbows.
"Say, Annie," said he confidentially, maybe it's one of the last dreamsof booze, but I've a kind of a recollection of riding in an automobilewith a swell guy that took me to a house full of eagles and arc lights.He fed me on biscuits and hot air, and then kicked me down the frontsteps. If it was the _d t's_, why am I so sore?"
"Shut up, you fool," said Annie.
"If I could find that funny guy's house," said Thomas, in conclusion,"I'd go up there some day and punch his nose for him."
zpostcode
Recruit
weather
mreligion
Yellowpages
sport
constellation
shopping
name
game
directory
literature
Word
tour
furnish
Lottery
tftnews
lyrics
News
digital
car
dir
Edu
Finance
