Solution Manual for Systems Analysis and Design, 12th Edition, Scott Tilley
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- 6. September 8, 2019 Chapter 1: Solution Manual for Systems Analysis and Design, 12th Edition, Scott Tilley
- 7. 2 Download full chapter at: https://testbankbell.com/product/solution-manual-for- systems-analysis-and-design-12th-edition-scott-tilley/
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- 10. 5 Systems Analysis and Design (12th Ed) End of Chapter Solutions Notes: This document contains all the solutions to the end-of-chapter questions for the 12th edition. This includes any altered or added questions for the 11th edition of the book. Page number references have been removed from the answers. The 12th edition of the book contains only end of chapter exercises of three types: questions, discussion topics, and projects. All other exercises that appeared at the end of each chapter in previous editions, such as “Apply Your Knowledge” from the 10th edition, have been removed from the body of the textbook.
- 11. 6 Chapter 2: Introduction to Systems Analysis and Design Chapter 1 – Introduction to Systems Analysis and Design: Chapter 1 provides an introduction to systems analysis and design by describing the role of information technology in today’s dynamic business environment. Questions 1. What is information technology and why is it important to society? Information technology (IT) refers to the combination of hardware, software, and services that people use to manage, communicate, and share information. More than ever, business success depends on information technology. The headlines in Error! Reference source not found. offer dramatic examples of how information technology issues such as data privacy, mobile devices, and social media affects our society. We live in a world where we can be traced, analyzed, and surveilled without our knowledge. This raises many important questions, such as how to secure personal data while still providing useful functionality and business value. 2. What are the five main components of an information system? An information system has five key components, as shown in Error! Reference source not found.: hardware, software, data, processes, and people. 3. Explain how ridesharing services such as Uber and Lyft are disrupting traditional taxicab business models. Business today is being shaped by three major trends: rapidly increasing globalization, technology integration for seamless information access across a wide variety of devices such as laptops and smartphones, and the rapid growth of cloud-based computing and software services. These trends are being driven by the immense power of the Internet. Ridesharing services such as Uber and Lyft are disrupting traditional taxicab business models through disintermediation: connecting drivers directly to customers, bypassing the traditional dispatch service. They are also disrupting the traditional limitation on who can drive a taxicab (medallion owners) to allow anyone with a car and who wants to earn some extra money to do so, all via mobile apps and cloud-based technology. 4. Describe the business profile of a home improvement store like Home Depot or Lowe’s and how it is used. A business profile is an overview of a company’s mission, functions, organization, products, services, customers, suppliers, competitors, constraints, and future direction. Although much of this information is readily available, a systems analyst usually needs to do additional research and fact-finding to fill out missing or incomplete information. A business profile is the starting point for the modeling process, and a systems analyst can describe and simplify an information system by using a set of business models and business process models. Students should be able to understand the business of home improvement stores, supply the basic information, and fill in the details. 5. What are the seven types of information systems used in business? The seven types of information systems used in business are: enterprise computing systems, transaction processing systems, business support systems, knowledge
- 12. 7 management systems, user productivity systems, digital assistants, and systems integration. 6. What types of information do the four organizational levels common to many businesses need? A typical organizational model identifies business functions and organizational levels, as shown in Error! Reference source not found.. A systems analyst must understand the company’s organizational model to recognize who is responsible for specific processes and decisions and to be aware of what information is required by whom. Top managers develop long-range plans, called strategic plans, which define the company’s overall mission and goals. To plot a future course, top managers ask questions such as “How much should the company invest in information technology?”, “How much will Internet sales grow in the next five years?”, or “Should the company build new factories or contract out production functions?” Top managers focus on the overall business enterprise and use IT to set the company’s course and direction. To develop a strategic plan, top managers also need information from outside the company, such as economic forecasts, technology trends, competitive threats, and governmental issues. Just below the top management level, most companies have a layer of middle managers and knowledge workers. Middle managers provide direction, necessary resources, and performance feedback to supervisors and team leaders. Because they focus on a somewhat shorter time frame, middle managers need more detailed information than top managers but somewhat less than supervisors who oversee day-to-day operations. Knowledge workers include systems analysts, programmers, accountants, researchers, trainers, human resource specialists, and other professionals. Knowledge workers also use business support systems, knowledge management systems, and user productivity systems. Knowledge workers provide support for the organization’s basic functions. Just as a military unit requires logistical support, a successful company needs knowledge workers to carry out its mission. Supervisors, often called team leaders, oversee operational employees and carry out day-to-day functions. They coordinate operational tasks and people, make necessary decisions, and ensure that the right tools, materials, and training are available. Like other managers, supervisors and team leaders need decision support information, knowledge management systems, and user productivity systems to carry out their responsibilities. Operational employees include users who rely on transaction processing systems to enter and receive data they need to perform their jobs. In many companies, operational users also need information to handle tasks and make decisions that were assigned previously to supervisors. 7. Compare three system development methods. Many options exist for developing information systems, but the most popular alternatives are structured analysis, which is a traditional method that still is widely used, object- oriented (o-o) analysis, which is a more recent approach that many analysts prefer, and agile methods, which include the latest trends in software development. Figure 1-17 provides an overview of the three methods. 8. Name the tools that enable the systems analyst to develop, manage, and maintain large-scale information systems.
- 13. 8 All systems development methods must be supported by tools to enable the systems analyst to develop, manage, and maintain large-scale information systems. These tools go by various names, including application lifecycle management (ALM), also called product lifecycle management (PLM); integrated development environments (IDE); and computer-aided systems engineering (CASE), also called computer-aided software engineering. CASE tools provide an overall framework for systems development and support a wide variety of design methodologies, including structured analysis and object- oriented analysis. 9. Summarize the seven main functions of the IT department. The IT department develops and maintains information systems. The IT group provides technical support, which includes seven main functions: application development, systems support and security, user support, database administration, network administration, web support, and quality assurance. These functions overlap considerably and often have different names in different companies. 10. What are the roles and responsibilities of a systems analyst in a modern business? A systems analyst investigates, analyzes, designs, develops, installs, evaluates, and maintains a company’s information systems. To perform those tasks, a systems analyst constantly interacts with users and managers within and outside the company. A systems analyst helps develop IT systems that support business requirements. To succeed, analysts often must act as translators. For example, when they describe business processes to programmers, they must speak a language that programmers will understand clearly. Typically, the analyst builds a series of models, diagrams, and decision tables and uses other descriptive tools and techniques. Similarly, when communicating with managers, the analyst often must translate complex technical issues into words and images that nontechnical people can grasp. To do this, the analyst uses various presentation skills, models, and communication methods. Analysts are often the company’s best line of defense against an IT disaster—a system that is technically sound but fails because it does not meet the needs of users and managers. When this occurs, poor communication is usually to blame. For an analyst, the most valuable skill is the ability to listen. An effective analyst will involve users in every step of the development process and listen carefully to what they have to say. As the process continues, the analyst will seek feedback and comments from the users. This input can provide a valuable early warning system for projects that might other- wise go off the track. Discussion Topics 1. Some experts believe that the growth in e-commerce will cause states and local governments to lose tax revenue, unless Internet transactions are subject to sales tax. What is one argument that supports this view, and one that opposes it? This issue has sparked strong differences of opinion among national and state leaders, consumer advocacy groups, and trade associations whose members offer online sales and services. Those who believe that Internet transactions should not be taxed often point to other sales channels, such as mail order firms that conduct no physical operations within a state or locality, and therefore do not collect sales tax. Should the Internet be treated differently? Opponents of a tax-free Internet often cite the impact on local and state government, and suggest that all channels should operate on a level playing field. You
- 14. 9 might ask your students to research and debate this issue. Also, you might follow this topic as news occurs during the course. 2. When team members are geographically dispersed, communication becomes more challenging. Explain how groupware can increase user productivity in this context. Companies provide employees at all levels with technology that improves productivity. User productivity systems include groupware, which enables users to share data, collaborate on projects, and work in teams – irrespective of where they are physically located. One popular groupware product is Slack, shown in Error! Reference source not found.. Slack provides common app integration and unified communication channels for distributed teams. 3. Under what circumstances should a systems analyst recommend an agile methodology over structured development or object-oriented analysis? Although most projects utilize one approach, it is not unusual for system developers to mix and match methods to gain a better perspective. In addition to these three main development methods, some organizations choose to develop their own in-house approaches or use techniques offered by software suppliers, tool vendors, or consultants. Many alternatives exist, and IT experts agree that no single development method is best in all cases. An approach that works well for one project might have disadvantages or risks in another situation. The important thing is to understand the various methods and the strengths and weaknesses of each approach. Although agile methods are becoming popular, analysts should recognize that these approaches have advantages and disadvantages. By their nature, agile methods can allow developers to be much more flexible and responsive but can be riskier than more traditional methods. For example, without a detailed set of system requirements, certain features requested by some users might not be consistent with the company’s larger game plan. Other potential disadvantages of agile methods can include weak documentation, blurred lines of accountability, and too little emphasis on the larger business picture. Also, unless properly implemented, a long series of iterations might actually add to project cost and development time. The bottom line is that systems analysts should understand the pros and cons of any approach before selecting a development method for a specific project. 4. Should the IT director report to the company president, or somewhere else? Does it matter? No clear organizational pattern exists. Perhaps the strongest case for having the IT department report to the president is that information technology is a vital corporate asset, and should not be “owned” by a particular department or function. IT can have a huge impact on profitability, and deserves equal attention from the top executive. However, not everyone agrees with this view, and many would argue that IT should report to the chief financial officer, because financial functions require the most IT support. Also, the operation of the IT department represents a large expense for most companies, and the chief financial officer probably is in the best position to monitor and control this expense. 5. Rapid advancements in areas such as machine learning and predictive analytics in data science are affecting the daily operations of many IT departments. What should a systems analyst do to stay current?
- 15. 10 The demand for systems analysts is expected to remain strong. Systems analysts need to track trends in information technology because technological changes affect business operations, career opportunities, and enterprise strategies. As depicted in Figure 1-31, many of the developments related to big data are driving trends in information technology – trends the system analyst must follow to stay current. Projects 1. Contact three people at your school who use information systems. List their positions, the information they need, the systems they use, and the business functions they perform. Students can perform this task as individuals or work in teams. It might be interesting to compare and discuss the various ways in which the departments manage information. 2. Visit three websites to learn more about agile system development. Prepare a list of the sites you visited and a summary of the results. Many sites describe and discuss agile methods. Students should have no trouble finding material on agile methods and spiral models and preparing a summary of the results. Several sites are shown in the text, and a simple search will produce a list of many more. 3. Model-based systems engineering (MBSE) is one of the leading methods used by systems analysts to develop information systems. Cameo Systems Modeler is one of the leading tools supporting MBSE. Research magazine articles and the web to learn more about this tool’s capabilities. Identify three of its strengths in terms of improving the quality of the finished product. Cameo Systems Modeler is a well-known product with many sources of information about the tool available to the students. To limit the scope of the investigation, have the students focus on using the tool specifically to improve product quality. 4. Explore the Critical Thinking Community website at criticalthinking.org. Identify three important topics currently being discussed, and describe your findings. You might encourage students to explore beyond the suggested link and challenge them to identify additional resources and issues. Also consider asking them to examine their own approach to learning, and whether they would consider themselves to be critical thinkers. 5. Compare the corporate culture of three leading IT companies and show how their statement of values could attract (or repel) systems analysts from joining their organization. It would be insightful for examine a traditional company, such as IBM, which has an established but dynamic corporate culture that has withstood the test of time. Newer companies such as Facebook are also quite large, but their culture originates in a different space than that of IBM. The culture of a Silicon Valley startup is different yet again, and the type of employee they seek may have different professional goals – particularly if they are at the start of their career. Also includes: Warehouse Case Solutions
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- 18. loosening up the rubble so that they could shift it back along the passage. At eight the following morning the charge was exploded that opened up to them the first glimmer of daylight ahead. After that they worked carefully, being apprehensive of jarring down fresh slides. At the last, they were baffled by a ten-ton block of rock in the very mouth of the passage. Through crevices on either side of it they could squeeze their arms into the blazing sunshine, yet the stone-block thwarted them. No leverage they applied could more than quiver it, and Henry decided on one final blast that would topple it out and down into the Valley. “They’ll certainly know visitors are coming, the way we’ve been knocking on their back door for the last fifteen hours,” he laughed, as he prepared to light the fuse. Assembled before the altar of the Sun God at the Long House, the entire population was indeed aware, and anxiously aware, of the coming of visitors. So disastrous had been their experiences with their last ones, when the lake dwelling had been burned and their Queen lost to them, that they were now begging the Sun God to send no more visitors. But upon one thing, having been passionately harangued by their priest, they were resolved; namely, to kill at sight and without parley whatever newcomers did descend upon them. “Even Da Vasco himself,” the priest had cried. “Even Da Vasco!” the Lost Souls had responded. All were armed with spears, war-clubs, and bows and arrows; and while they waited they continued to pray before the altar. Every few minutes runners arrived from the lake, making the same reports that while the mountain still labored thunderously nothing had emerged from it. The little girl of ten, the Maid of the Long House who had entertained Leoncia, was the first to spy out new arrivals. This was made possible because of the tribe’s attention being fixed on the
- 19. rumbling mountain beside the lake. No one expected visitors out of the mountain on the opposite side of the valley. “Da Vasco!” she cried. “Da Vasco!” All looked and saw, not fifty yards away, Torres, the Jefe, and their gang of followers, emerging into the open clearing. Torres wore again the helmet he had filched from his withered ancestor in the Chamber of the Mummies. Their greeting was instant and warm, taking the form of a flight of arrows that arched into them and stretched two of the followers on the ground. Next, the Lost Souls, men and women, charged; while the rifles of Torres’ men began to speak. So unexpected was this charge, so swiftly made and with so short a distance to cover, that, though many fell before the bullets, a number reached the invaders and engaged in a desperate hand-to- hand conflict. Here the advantage of firearms was minimized, and gendarmes and others were thrust through by spears or had their skulls cracked under the ponderous clubs. In the end, however, the Lost Souls were outfought, thanks chiefly to the revolvers that could kill in the thickest of the scuffling. The survivors fled, but of the invaders half were down and down forever. The women having in drastic fashion attended to every man who fell wounded. The Jefe was spluttering with pain and rage at an arrow which had perforated his arm; nor could he be appeased until Vicente cut off the barbed head and pulled out the shaft. Torres, beyond an aching shoulder where a club had hit him, was uninjured; and he became jubilant when he saw the old priest dying on the ground with his head resting on the little maid’s knees. Since there were no wounded of their own to be attended to with rough and ready surgery, Torres and the Jefe led the way to the lake, skirted its shores, and came to the ruins of the Queen’s dwelling. Only charred stumps of piles, projecting above the water, showed where it had once stood. Torres was nonplussed, but the Jefe was furious.
- 20. “Here, right in this house that was, the treasure chest stood,” he stammered. “A wild goose chase!” the Jefe grunted. “Senor Torres, I always suspected you were a fool.” “How was I to know the place had been burned down?” “You ought to have known, you who are so very wise in all things,” the Jefe bickered back. “But you can’t fool me. I had my eye on you. I saw you rob the emeralds and rubies from the eye-sockets of the Maya gods. That much you shall divide with me, and now.” “Wait, wait, be a trifle patient,” Torres begged. “Let us first investigate. Of course, I shall divide the four gems with you——but what are they compared with a whole chest-full? It was a light, fragile house. The chest may have fallen into the water undamaged by fire when the roof fell in. And water will not damage precious stones.” In amongst the burnt piling the Jefe sent his men to investigate, and they waded and swam about in the shoal water, being careful to avoid being caught by the outlying suck of the whirlpool. Augustino, the Silent, made the find, close in to shore. “I am standing on something,” he announced, the level of the lake barely to his knees. Torres plunged in, and, reaching under till he buried his head and shoulders, felt out the object. “It is the chest, I am certain,” he declared. “—Come! All of you! Drag this out to the dry land so that we may examine into it!” But when this was accomplished, and just as he bent to open the lid, the Jefe stopped him. “Go back into the water, the lot of you,” he commanded his men. “There are a number of chests like this, and the expedition will be a failure if we don’t find them. One chest would not pay the expenses.”
- 21. Not until all the men were floundering and groping in the water, did Torres raise the lid. The Jefe stood transfixed. He could only gaze and mutter inarticulate mouthings. “Now will you believe?” Torres queried. “It is beyond price. We are the richest two men in Panama, in South America, in the world. This is the Maya treasure. We heard of it when we were boys. Our fathers and our grandfathers dreamed of it. The Conquistadores failed to find it. And it is ours——ours!” And, while the two men, almost stupefied, stood and stared, one by one their followers crept out of the water, formed a silent semi-circle at their backs, and likewise stared. Neither did the Jefe and Torres know their men stood at their backs, nor did the men know of the Lost Souls that were creeping stealthily upon them from the rear. As it was, all were staring at the treasure with fascinated amazement when the attack was sprung. Bows and arrows, at ten yards distance, are deadly, especially when due time is taken to make certain of aim. Two-thirds of the treasure- seekers went down simultaneously. Through Vicente, who had chanced to be standing directly behind Torres, no less than two spears and five arrows had perforated. The handful of survivors had barely time to seize their rifles and whirl, when the club attack was upon them. In this Rafael and Ignacio, two of the gendarmes who had been on the adventure to the Juchitan oil fields, almost immediately had their skulls cracked. And, as usual, the Lost Souls women saw to it that the wounded did not remain wounded long. The end for Torres and the Jefe was but a matter of moments, when a loud roar from the mountain followed by a crashing avalanche of rock, created a diversion. The few Lost Souls that remained alive, darted back terror-stricken into the shelter of the bushes. The Jefe and Torres, who alone stood on their feet and breathed, cast their eyes up the cliff to where the smoke still issued from the new-made hole, and saw Henry Morgan and the Queen step into the sunshine on the lip of the cliff.
- 22. “You take the lady,” the Jefe snarled. “I shall get the Gringo Morgan if it’s the last act of what seems a life that isn’t going to be much longer.” Both lifted their rifles and fired. Torres, never much of a shot, sent his bullet fairly centered into the Queen’s breast. But the Jefe, master marksman and possessor of many medals, made a clean miss of his target. The next instant, a bullet from Henry’s rifle struck his wrist and traveled up the forearm to the elbow, whence it escaped and passed on. And as his rifle clattered to the ground he knew that never again would that right arm, its bone pulped from wrist to elbow, have use for a rifle. But Henry was not shooting well. Just emerged from twenty-four hours of darkness in the cave, not at once could his eyes adjust themselves to the blinding dazzle of the sun. His first shot had been lucky. His succeeding shots merely struck in the immediate neighbourhood of the Jefe and Torres as they turned and fled madly for the brush. Ten minutes later, the wounded Jefe in the lead, Torres saw a woman of the Lost Souls spring out from behind a tree and brain him with a huge stone wielded in both her hands. Torres shot her first, then crossed himself with horror, and stumbled on. From behind arose distant calls of Henry and the Solano brothers in pursuit, and he remembered the vision of his end he had glimpsed but refused to see in the Mirror of the World and wondered if this end was near upon him. Yet it had not resembled this place of trees and ferns and jungle. From the glimpse he remembered nothing of vegetation——only solid rock and blazing sun and bones of animals. Hope sprang up afresh at the thought. Perhaps that end was not for this day, maybe not for this year. Who knew? Twenty years might yet pass ere that end came. Emerging from the jungle, he came upon a queer ridge of what looked like long disintegrated lava rock. Here he left no trail, and he proceeded carefully on beyond it through further jungle, believing
- 23. once again in his star that would enable him to elude pursuit. His plan of escape took shape. He would find a safe hiding place until after dark. Then he would circle back to the lake and the whirl of waters. That gained, nothing and nobody could stop him. He had but to leap in. The subterranean journey had no terrors for him because he had done it before. And in his fancy he saw once more the pleasant picture of the Gualaca River flashing under the open sky on its way to the sea. Besides, did he not carry with him the two great emeralds and two great rubies that had been the eyes of Chia and Hzatzl? Fortune enough, and vast good fortune, were they for any man. What if he had failed by the Maya Treasure to become the richest man in the world? He was satisfied. All he wanted now was darkness and one last dive into the heart of the mountain and through the heart of the mountain to the Gualaca flowing to the sea. And just then, the assured vision of his escape so vividly filling his eyes that he failed to observe the way of his feet, he dived. Nor was it a dive into swirling waters. It was a head-foremost, dry-land dive down a slope of rock. So slippery was it that he continued to slide down, although he managed to turn around, with face and stomach to the surface, and to claw wildly up with hands and feet. Such effort merely slowed his descent, but could not stop it. For a while, at the bottom, he lay breathless and dazed. When his senses came back to him, he became aware first of all of something unusual upon which his hand rested. He could have sworn that he felt teeth. At length, opening his eyes with a shudder and summoning his resolution, he dared to look at the object. And relief was immediate. Teeth they were, in an indubitable, weather-white jaw-bone; but they were pig’s teeth and the jaw was a pig’s jaw. Other bones lay about, on which his body rested, which, on examination, proved to be the bones of pigs and of smaller animals. Where had he glimpsed such an arrangement of bones? He thought, and remembered the Queen’s great golden bowl. He looked up. Ah! Mother of God! The very place! He knew it at first sight, as he gazed up what was a funnel at the far spectacle of day. Fully two hundred
- 24. feet above him was the rim of the funnel. The sides of hard, smooth rock sloped steeply in and down to him, and his eyes and judgment told him that no man born of woman could ever scale that slope. The fancy that came to his mind caused him to spring to his feet in sudden panic and look hastily round about him. Only on a more colossal scale, the funnel in which he was trapped had reminded him of the funnel-pits dug in the sand by hunting spiders that lurked at the bottom for such prey that tumbled in upon them. And, his vivid fancy leaping, he had been frightened by the thought that some spider monster, as colossal as the funnel-pit, might possibly be lurking there to devour him. But no such denizen occurred. The bottom of the pit, circular in form, was a good ten feet across and carpeted, he knew not how deep, by a debris of small animals’ bones. Now for what had the Mayas of old time made so tremendous an excavation? he questioned; for he was more than half-convinced that the funnel was no natural phenomenon. Before nightfall he made sure, by a dozen attempts, that the funnel was unscalable. Between attempts, he crouched in the growing shadow of the descending sun and panted dry-lipped with heat and thirst. The place was a very furnace, and the juices of his body were wrung from him in profuse perspiration. Throughout the night, between dozes, he vainly pondered the problem of escape. The only way out was up, nor could his mind devise any method of getting up. Also, he looked forward with terror to the coming of the day, for he knew that no man could survive a full ten hours of the baking heat that would be his. Ere the next nightfall the last drop of moisture would have evaporated from his body leaving him a withered and already half-sun-dried mummy. With the coming of daylight his growing terror added wings to his thought, and he achieved a new and profoundly simple theory of escape. Since he could not climb up, and since he could not get out through the sides themselves, then the only possible remaining way was down. Fool that he was! He might have been working through the cool night hours, and now he must labour in the quickly
- 25. increasing heat. He applied himself in an ecstasy of energy to digging down through the mass of crumbling bones. Of course, there was a way out. Else how did the funnel drain? Otherwise it would have been full or part full of water from the rains. Fool! And thrice times thrice a fool! He dug down one side of the wall, flinging the rubbish into a mound against the opposite side. So desperately did he apply himself that he broke his finger-nails to the quick and deeper, while every finger- tip was lacerated to bleeding. But love of life was strong in him, and he knew it was a life-and-death race with the sun. As he went deeper, the rubbish became more compact, so that he used the muzzle of his rifle like a crowbar to loosen it, ere tossing it up in single and double handfuls. By mid-forenoon, his senses beginning to reel in the heat, he made a discovery. Upon the wall which he had uncovered, he came upon the beginning of an inscription, evidently rudely scratched in the rock by the point of a knife. With renewed hope, his head and shoulders down in the hole, he dug and scratched for all the world like a dog, throwing the rubbish out and between his legs in true dog-fashion. Some of it fell clear, but most of it fell back and down upon him. Yet had he become too frantic to note the inefficiency of his effort. At last the inscription was cleared, so that he was able to read: Peter McGill, of Glasgow. On March 12, 1820, I escaped from the Pit of Hell by this passage by digging down and finding it. A passage! The passage must be beneath the inscription! Torres now toiled in a fury. So dirt-soiled was he that he was like some huge, four-legged, earth-burrowing animal. The dirt got into his eyes, and, on occasion, into his nostrils and air passages so as to suffocate him and compel him to back up out of the hole and sneeze and cough his breathing apparatus clear. Twice he fainted. But the sun, by then almost directly overhead, drove him on.
- 26. He found the upper rim of the passage. He did not dig down to the lower rim; for the moment the aperture was large enough to accommodate his lean shape, he writhed and squirmed into it and away from the destroying sun-rays. The cool and the dark soothed him, but his joy and the reaction from what he had undergone sent his pulse giddily up, so that for the third time he fainted. Recovered, mouthing with black and swollen lips a half-insane chant of gratefulness and thanksgiving, he crawled on along the passage. Perforce he crawled, because it was so low that a dwarf could not have stood erect in it. The place was a charnel house. Bones crunched and crumbled under his hands and knees, and he knew that his knees were being worn to the bone. At the end of a hundred feet he caught his first glimmering of light. But the nearer he approached freedom, the slower he progressed, for the final stages of exhaustion were coming upon him. He knew that it was not physical exhaustion, nor food exhaustion, but thirst exhaustion. Water, a few ounces of water, was all he needed to make him strong again. And there was no water. But the light was growing stronger and nearer. He noted, toward the last, that the floor of the passage pitched down at an angle of fully thirty degrees. This made the way easier. Gravity drew him on, and helped every failing effort of him, toward the source of light. Very close to it, he encountered an increase in the deposit of bones. Yet they bothered him little, for they had become an old story, while he was too exhausted to mind them. He did observe, with swimming eyes and increasing numbness of touch, that the passage was contracting both vertically and horizontally. Slanting downward at thirty degrees, it gave him an impression of a rat-trap, himself the rat, descending head foremost toward he knew not what. Even before he reached it, he apprehended that the slit of bright day that advertised the open world beyond was too narrow for the egress of his body. And his apprehension was verified. Crawling unconcernedly over a skeleton that the blaze of day showed him to be a man’s, he managed, by
- 27. severely and painfully squeezing his ears flat back, to thrust his head through the slitted aperture. The sun beat down upon his head, while his eyes drank in the openness of the freedom of the world that the unyielding rock denied to the rest of his body. Most maddening of all was a running stream not a hundred yards away, tree-fringed beyond, with lush meadow-grass leading down to it from his side. And in the tree-shadowed water, knee-deep and drowsing, stood several cows of the dwarf breed peculiar to the Valley of Lost Souls. Occasionally they flicked their tails lazily at flies, or changed the distribution of their weight on their legs. He glared at them to see them drink, but they were evidently too sated with water. Fools! Why should they not drink, with all that wealth of water flowing idly by! They betrayed alertness, turning their heads toward the far bank and pricking their ears forward. Then, as a big antlered buck came out from among the trees to the water’s edge, they flattened their ears back and shook their heads and pawed the water till he could hear the splashing. But the stag disdained their threats, lowered his head, and drank. This was too much for Torres, who emitted a maniacal scream which, had he been in his senses, he would not have recognised as proceeding from his own throat and larynx. The stag sprang away. The cattle turned their heads in Torres’ direction, drowsed, their eyes shut, and resumed the flicking of flies. With a violent effort, scarcely knowing that he had half-torn off his ears, he drew his head back through the slitted aperture and fainted on top of the skeleton. Two hours later, though he did not know the passage of time, he regained consciousness, and found his own head cheek by jowl with the skull of the skeleton on which he lay. The descending sun was already shining into the narrow opening, and his gaze chanced upon a rusty knife. The point of it was worn and broken, and he established the connection. This was the knife that had scratched the inscription on the rock at the base of the funnel at the other end of the passage, and this skeleton was the bony framework of the
- 28. man who had done the scratching. And Alvarez Torres went immediately mad. “Ah, Peter McGill, my enemy,” he muttered. “Peter McGill of Glasgow who betrayed me to this end.—This for you!—And this!—And this!” So speaking, he drove the heavy knife into the fragile front of the skull. The dust of the bone which had once been the tabernacle of Peter McGill’s brain arose in his nostrils and increased his frenzy. He attacked the skeleton with his hands, tearing at it, disrupting it, filling the pent space about him with flying bones. It was like a battle, in which he destroyed what was left of the mortal remains of the one time resident of Glasgow. Once again Torres squeezed his head through the slit to gaze at the fading glory of the world. Like a rat in the trap caught by the neck in the trap of ancient Maya devising, he saw the bright world and day dim to darkness as his final consciousness drowned in the darkness of death. But still the cattle stood in the water and drowsed and flicked at flies, and, later, the stag returned, disdainful of the cattle, to complete its interrupted drink.
- 29. CHAPTER XXVIII Not for nothing had Regan been named by his associates, The Wolf of Wall Street! While usually no more than a conservative, large- scale player, ever so often, like a periodical drinker, he had to go on a rampage of wild and daring stock-gambling. At least five times in his long career had he knocked the bottom out of the market or lifted the roof off, and each time to the tune of a personal gain of millions. He never went on a small rampage, and he never went too often. He would let years of quiescence slip by, until suspicion of him was lulled asleep and his world deemed that the Wolf was at last grown old and peaceable. And then, like a thunderbolt, he would strike at the men and interests he wished to destroy. But, though the blow always fell like a thunderbolt, not like a thunderbolt was it in its inception. Long months, and even years, were spent in deviously preparing for the day and painstakingly maturing the plans and conditions for the battle. Thus had it been in the outlining and working up of the impending Waterloo for Francis Morgan. Revenge lay back of it, but it was revenge against a dead man. Not Francis, but Francis’ father, was the one he struck against, although he struck through the living into the heart of the grave to accomplish it. Eight years he had waited and sought his chance ere old R.H.M.——Richard Henry Morgan—— had died. But no chance had he found. He was, truly, the Wolf of Wall Street, but never by any luck had he found an opportunity against the Lion—for to his death R.H.M. had been known as the Lion of Wall Street.
- 30. So, from father to son, always under a show of fair appearance, Regan had carried the feud over. Yet Regan’s very foundation on which he built for revenge was meretricious and wrongly conceived. True, eight years before R.H.M.’s death, he had tried to double-cross him and failed; but he never dreamed that R.H.M. had guessed. Yet R.H.M. had not only guessed but had ascertained beyond any shadow of doubt, and had promptly and cleverly double-crossed his treacherous associate. Thus, had Regan known that R.H.M. knew of his perfidy, Regan would have taken his medicine without thought of revenge. As it was, believing that R.H.M. was as bad as himself, believing that R.H.M., out of meanness as mean as his own, without provocation or suspicion, had done this foul thing to him, he saw no way to balance the account save by ruining him, or, in lieu of him, by ruining his son. And Regan had taken his time. At first Francis had left the financial game alone, content with letting his money remain safely in the safe investments into which it had been put by his father. Not until Francis had become for the first time active in undertaking Tampico Petroleum to the tune of millions of investment, with an assured many millions of ultimate returns, had Regan had the ghost of a chance to destroy him. But, the chance given, Regan had not wasted time, though his slow and thorough campaign had required many months to develop. Ere he was done, he came very close to knowing every share of whatever stock Francis carried on margin or owned outright. It had really taken two years and more for Regan to prepare. In some of the corporations in which Francis owned heavily, Regan was himself a director and no inconsiderable arbiter of destiny. In Frisco Consolidated he was president. In New York, Vermont and Connecticut he was vice-president. From controlling one director in Northwestern Electric, he had played kitchen politics until he controlled the two-thirds majority. And so with all the rest, either directly, or indirectly through corporation and banking ramifications, he had his hand in the secret springs and levers of the financial and business mechanism which gave strength to Francis’ fortune.
- 31. Yet no one of these was more than a bagatelle compared with the biggest thing of all——Tampico Petroleum. In this, beyond a paltry twenty thousand shares bought on the open market, Regan owned nothing, controlled nothing, though the time was growing ripe for him to sell and deal and juggle in inordinate quantities. Tampico Petroleum was practically Francis’ private preserve. A number of his friends were, for them, deeply involved, Mrs. Carruthers even gravely so. She worried him, and was not even above pestering him over the telephone. There were others, like Johnny Pathmore, who never bothered him at all, and who, when they met, talked carelessly and optimistically about the condition of the market and financial things in general. All of which was harder to bear than Mrs. Carruthers’ perpetual nervousness. Northwestern Electric, thanks to Regan’s machinations, had actually dropped thirty points and remained there. Those on the outside who thought they knew, regarded it as positively shaky. Then there was the little, old, solid-as-the-rock-of-Gibraltar Frisco Consolidated. The nastiest of rumors were afloat, and the talk of a receivership was growing emphatic. Montana Lode was still sickly under Mulhaney’s unflattering and unmodified report, and Weston, the great expert sent out by the English investors, had failed to report anything reassuring. For six months, Imperial Tungsten, earning nothing, had been put to disastrous expense in the great strike which seemed only just begun. Nor did anybody, save the several labor leaders who knew, dream that it was Regan’s gold that was at the bottom of the affair. The secrecy and the deadliness of the attack was what unnerved Bascom. All properties in which Francis was interested were being pressed down as if by a slow-moving glacier. There was nothing spectacular about the movement, merely a steady persistent decline that made Francis’ large fortune shrink horribly. And, along with what he owned outright, what he held on margin suffered even greater shrinkage.
- 32. Then had come rumors of war. Ambassadors were receiving their passports right and left, and half the world seemed mobilizing. This was the moment, with the market shaken and panicky, and with the world powers delaying in declaring moratoriums, that Regan selected to strike. The time was ripe for a bear raid, and with him were associated half a dozen other big bears who tacitly accepted his leadership. But even they did not know the full extent of his plans, nor guess at the specific direction of them. They were in the raid for what they could make, and thought he was in it for the same reason, in their simple directness of pecuniary vision catching no glimpse of Francis Morgan nor of his ghostly father at whom the big blow was being struck. Regan’s rumor factory began working overtime, and the first to drop and the fastest to drop in the dropping market were the stocks of Francis, which had already done considerable dropping ere the bear market began. Yet Regan was careful to bring no pressure on Tampico Petroleum. Proudly it held up its head in the midst of the general slump, and eagerly Regan waited for the moment of desperation when Francis would be forced to dump it on the market to cover his shrunken margins in other lines. “Lord! Lord!” Bascom held the side of his face in the palm of one hand and grimaced as if he had a jumping toothache. “Lord! Lord!” he reiterated. “The market’s gone to smash and Tampico Pet along with it. How she slumped! Who’d have dreamed it!” Francis, puffing steadily away at a cigarette and quite oblivious that it was unlighted, sat with Bascom in the latter’s private office. “It looks like a fire-sale,” he vouchsafed. “That won’t last longer than this time to-morrow morning——then you’ll be sold out, and me with you,” his broker simplified, with a swift glance at the clock.
- 33. It marked twelve, as Francis’ swiftly automatic glance verified. “Dump in the rest of Tampico Pet,” he said wearily. “That ought to hold back until to-morrow.” “Then what to-morrow?” his broker demanded, “with the bottom out and everybody including the office boys selling short.” Francis shrugged his shoulders. “You know I’ve mortgaged the house, Dreamwold, and the Adirondack Camp to the limit.” “Have you any friends?” “At such a time!” Francis countered bitterly. “Well, it’s the very time,” Bascom retorted. “Look here, Morgan. I know the set you ran with at college. There’s Johnny Pathmore——” “And he’s up to his eyes already. When I smash he smashes. And Dave Donaldson will have to readjust his life to about one hundred and sixty a month. And as for Chris Westhouse, he’ll have to take to the movies for a livelihood. He always was good at theatricals, and I happen to know he’s got the ideal ‘film’ face.” “There’s Charley Tippery,” Bascom suggested, though it was patent that he was hopeless about it. “Yes,” Francis agreed with equal hopelessness. “There’s only one thing the matter with him——his father still lives.” “The old cuss never took a flyer in his life,” Bascom supplemented. “There’s never a time he can’t put his hand on millions. And he still lives, worse luck.” “Charley could get him to do it, and would, except the one thing that’s the matter with me.” “No securities left?” his broker queried. Francis nodded. “Catch the old man parting with a dollar without due security.”
- 34. Nevertheless, a few minutes later, hoping to find Charley Tippery in his office during the noon hour, Francis was sending in his card. Of all jewelers and gem merchants in New York, the Tippery establishment was the greatest. Not only that. It was esteemed the greatest in the world. More of the elder Tippery’s money was invested in the great Diamond Corner, than even those in the know of most things knew of this particular thing. The interview was as Francis had forecast. The old man still held tight reins on practically everything, and the son had little hope of winning his assistance. “I know him,” he told Francis. “And though I’m going to wrestle with him, don’t pin an iota of faith on the outcome. I’ll go to the mat with him, but that will be about all. The worst of it is that he has the ready cash, to say nothing of oodles and oodles of safe securities and United States bonds. But you see, Grandfather Tippery, when he was young and struggling and founding the business, once loaned a friend a thousand. He never got it back, and he never got over it. Nor did Father Tippery ever get over it either. The experience seared both of them. Why, father wouldn’t lend a penny on the North Pole unless he got the Pole for security after having had it expertly appraised. And you haven’t any security, you see. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll wrestle with the old man to-night after dinner. That’s his most amiable mood of the day. And I’ll hustle around on my own and see what I can do. Oh, I know a few hundred thousand won’t mean anything, and I’ll do my darnedest for something big. Whatever happens, I’ll be at your house at nine to-morrow——” “Which will be my busy day,” Francis smiled wanly, as they shook hands. “I’ll be out of the house by eight.” “And I’ll be there by eight then,” Charley Tippery responded, again wringing his hand heartily. “And in the meantime I’ll get busy. There are ideas already beginning to sprout....”
- 35. Another interview Francis had that afternoon. Arrived back at his broker’s office, Bascom told him that Regan had called up and wanted to see Francis, saying that he had some interesting information for him. “I’ll run around right away,” Francis said, reaching for his hat, while his face lighted up with hope. “He was an old friend of father’s, and if anybody could pull me through, he could.” “Don’t be too sure,” Bascom shook his head, and paused reluctantly a moment before making confession. “I called him up just before you returned from Panama. I was very frank. I told him of your absence and of your perilous situation here, and——oh, yes, flatly and flat out——asked him if I could rely on him in case of need. And he baffled. You know anybody can baffle when asked a favor. That was all right. But I thought I sensed more ... no, I won’t dare to say enmity; but I will say that I was impressed ... how shall I say?—well, that he struck me as being particularly and peculiarly cold-blooded and non-committal.” “Nonsense,” Francis laughed. “He was too good a friend of my father’s.” “Ever heard of the Conmopolitan Railways Merger?” Bascom queried with significant irrelevance. Francis nodded promptly, then said: “But that was before my time. I merely have heard of it, that’s all. Shoot. Tell me about it. Give me the weight of your mind.” “Too long a story, but take this one word of advice. If you see Regan, don’t put your cards on the table. Let him play first, and, if he offers, let him offer without solicitation from you. Of course, I may be all wrong, but it won’t damage you to hold up your hand and get his play first.” At the end of another half hour, Francis was closeted with Regan, and the stress of his peril was such that he controlled his natural
- 36. impulses, remembering Bascom’s instruction, and was quite fairly nonchalant about the state of his affairs. He even bluffed. “In pretty deep, eh?” was Regan’s beginning. “Oh, not so deep that my back-teeth are awash yet,” Francis replied airily. “I can still breathe, and it will be a long time before I begin swallowing.” Regan did not immediately reply. Instead, pregnantly, he ran over the last few yards of the ticker tape. “You’re dumping Tampico Pet pretty heavily, just the same.” “And they’re snapping it up,” Francis came back, and for the first time, in a maze of wonderment, he considered the possibility of Bascom’s intuition being right. “Sure, I’ve got them swallowing.” “Just the same, you’ll note that Tampico Pet is tumbling at the same time it’s being snapped up, which is a very curious phenomenon,” Regan urged. “In a bear market all sorts of curious phenomena occur,” Francis bluffed with a mature show of wisdom. “And when they’ve swallowed enough of my dumpings they’ll be ripe to roll on a barrel. Somebody will pay something to get my dumpings out of their system. I fancy they’ll pay through the nose before I’m done with them.” “But you’re all in, boy. I’ve been watching your fight, even before your return. Tampico Pet is your last.” Francis shook his head. “I’d scarcely say that,” he lied. “I’ve got assets my market enemies never dream of. I’m luring them on, that’s all, just luring them on. Of course, Regan, I’m telling you this in confidence. You were my father’s friend. Mine is going to be some clean up, and, if you’ll take my tip, in this short market you start buying. You’ll be sure to settle with the sellers long in the end.” “What are your other assets?”
- 37. Francis shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what they’re going to find out when they’re full up with my stuff.” “It’s a bluff!” Regan admired explosively. “You’ve got the old man’s nerve, all right. But you’ve got to show me it isn’t bluff.” Regan waited, and Francis was suddenly inspired. “It is,” he muttered. “You’ve named it. I’m drowning over my back- teeth now, and they’re the highest out of the wash. But I won’t drown if you will help me. All you’ve got to do is to remember my father and put out your hand to save his son. If you’ll back me up, we’ll make them all sick....” And right there the Wolf of Wall Street showed his teeth. He pointed to Richard Henry Morgan’s picture. “Why do you think I kept that hanging on the wall all these years?” he demanded. Francis nodded as if the one accepted explanation was their tried and ancient friendship. “Guess again,” Regan sneered grimly. Francis shook his head in perplexity. “So I shouldn’t ever forget him,” the Wolf went on. “And never a waking moment have I forgotten him.——Remember the Conmopolitan Railways Merger? Well, old R.H.M. double-crossed me in that deal. And it was some double-cross, believe me. But he was too cunning ever to let me get a come-back on him. So there his picture has hung, and here I’ve sat and waited. And now the time has come.” “You mean?” Francis queried quietly. “Just that,” Regan snarled. “I’ve waited and worked for this day, and the day has come. I’ve got the whelp where I want him at any rate.” He glanced up maliciously at the picture. “And if that don’t make the old gent turn in his grave....”
- 38. Francis rose to his feet and regarded his enemy curiously. “No,” he said, as if in soliloquy, “it isn’t worth it.” “What isn’t worth what?” the other demanded with swift suspicion. “Beating you up,” was the cool answer. “I could kill you with my hands in five minutes. You’re no Wolf. You’re just mere yellow dog, the part of you that isn’t plain skunk. They told me to expect this of you; but I didn’t believe, and I came to see. They were right. You were all that they said. Well, I must get along out of this. It smells like a den of foxes. It stinks.” He paused with his hand on the door knob and looked back. He had not succeeded in making Regan lose his temper. “And what are you going to do about it?” the latter jeered. “If you’ll permit me to get my broker on your ‘phone maybe you’ll learn,” Francis replied. “Go to it, my laddy buck,” Regan conceded, then, with a wave of suspicion, “—I’ll get him for you myself.” And, having ascertained that Bascom was really at the other end of the line, he turned the receiver over to Francis. “You were right,” the latter assured Bascom. “Regan’s all you said and worse. Go right on with your plan of campaign. We’ve got him where we want him, though the old fox won’t believe it for a moment. He thinks he’s going to strip me, clean me out.” Francis paused to think up the strongest way of carrying on his bluff, then continued. “I’ll tell you something you don’t know. He’s the one who manœuvred the raid from the beginning. So now you know who we’re going to bury.” And, after a little more of similar talk, he hung up. “You see,” he explained, again from the door, “you were so crafty that we couldn’t make out who it was. Why hell, Regan, we were prepared to give a walloping to some unknown that had several times your strength. And now that it’s you, it’s easy. We were
- 39. prepared to strain. But with you it will be a walk-over. To-morrow, around this time, there’s going to be a funeral right here in your office and you’re not going to be one of the mourners. You’re going to be the corpse——and a not-nice looking financial corpse you’ll be when we get done with you.” “The dead spit of R.H.M.,” the Wolf grinned. “Lord, how he could pull off a bluff!” “It’s a pity he didn’t bury you and save me all the trouble,” was Francis’ parting shot. “And all the expense,” Regan flung after him. “It’s going to be pretty expensive for you, and there isn’t going to be any funeral from this place.” “Well, to-morrow’s the day,” Francis delivered to Bascom, as they parted that evening. “This time to-morrow I’ll be a perfectly nice scalped and skinned and sun-dried and smoke-cured specimen for Regan’s private collection. But who’d have believed the old skunk had it in for me! I never harmed him. On the contrary, I always considered him father’s best friend.——If Charley Tippery could only come through with some of the Tippery surplus coin....” “Or if the United States would only declare a moratorium,” Bascom hoped equally hopelessly. And Regan, at that moment, was saying to his assembled agents and rumor-factory specialists: “Sell! Sell! Sell all you’ve got and then sell short. I see no bottom to this market!” And Francis, on his way up town, buying the last extra, scanned the five-inch-lettered headline: “I SEE NO BOTTOM TO THIS MARKET.—THOMAS REGAN.”
- 40. But Francis was not at his house at eight next morning to meet Charley Tippery. It had been a night in which official Washington had not slept, and the night-wires had carried the news out over the land that the United States, though not at war, had declared its moratorium. Wakened out of his bed at seven by Bascom in person, who brought the news, Francis had accompanied him down town. The moratorium had given them hope, and there was much to do. Charles Tippery, however, was not the first to arrive at the Riverside Drive palace. A few minutes before eight, Parker was very much disturbed and perturbed when Henry and Leoncia, much the worse for sunburn and travel-stain, brushed past the second butler who had opened the door. “It’s no use you’re coming in this way,” Parker assured them. “Mr. Morgan is not at home.” “Where’s he gone?” Henry demanded, shifting the suit-case he carried to the other hand. “We’ve got to see him pronto, and I’ll have you know that pronto means quick. And who in hell are you?” “I am Mr. Morgan’s confidential valet,” Parker answered solemnly. “And who are you?” “My name’s Morgan,” Henry answered shortly, looking about in quest of something, striding to the library, glancing in, and discovering the telephones. “Where’s Francis? With what number can I call him up?” “Mr. Morgan left express instructions that nobody was to telephone him except on important business.” “Well, my business is important. What’s the number?” “Mr. Morgan is very busy to-day,” Parker reiterated stubbornly. “He’s in a pretty bad way, eh?” Henry quizzed. The valet’s face remained expressionless. “Looks as though he was going to be cleaned out to-day, eh?” Parker’s face betrayed neither emotion nor intelligence.
- 41. “For a second time I tell you he is very busy——” he began. “Hell’s bells!” Henry interrupted. “It’s no secret. The market’s got him where the hair is short. Everybody knows that. A lot of it was in the morning papers. Now come across, Mr. Confidential Valet. I want his number. I’ve got important business with him myself.” But Parker remained obdurate. “What’s his lawyer’s name? Or the name of his agent? Or of any of his representatives?” Parker shook his head. “If you will tell me the nature of your business with him,” the valet essayed. Henry dropped the suit-case and made as if about to leap upon the other and shake Francis’ number out of him. But Leoncia intervened. “Tell him,” she said. “Tell him!” Henry shouted, accepting her suggestion. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll show him.—Here, come on, you.” He strode into the library, swung the suit-case on the reading table, and began opening it. “Listen to me, Mr. Confidential Valet. Our business is the real business. We’re going to save Francis Morgan. We’re going to pull him out of the hole. We’ve got millions for him, right here inside of this thing——” Parker, who had been looking on with cold, disapproving eyes, recoiled in alarm at the last words. Either the strange callers were lunatics, or cunning criminals. Even at that moment, while they held him here with their talk of millions, confederates might be ransacking the upper parts of the house. As for the suit-case, for all he knew it might be filled with dynamite. “Here!” With a quick reach Henry had caught him by the collar as he turned to flee. With his other hand, Henry lifted the cover, exposing a
- 42. bushel of uncut gems. Parker showed plainly that he was overcome, although Henry failed to guess the nature of his agitation. “Thought I’d convince you,” Henry exulted. “Now be a good dog and give me his number.” “Be seated, sir ... and madame,” Parker murmured, with polite bows and a successful effort to control himself. “Be seated, please. I have left the private number in Mr. Morgan’s bedroom, which he gave to me this morning when I helped him dress. I shall be gone but a moment to get it. In the meantime please be seated.” Once outside the library, Parker became a most active, clear-thinking person. Stationing the second footman at the front door, he placed the first one to watch at the library door. Several other servants he sent scouting into the upper regions on the chance of surprising possible confederates at their nefarious work. Himself he addressed, via the butler’s telephone, to the nearest police station. “Yes, sir,” he repeated to the desk sergeant. “They are either a couple of lunatics or criminals. Send a patrol wagon at once, please, sir. Even now I do not know what horrible crimes are being committed under this roof ...” In the meantime, in response at the front door, the second footman, with visible relief, admitted Charley Tippery, clad in evening dress at that early hour, as a known and tried friend of the master. The first butler, with similar relief, to which he added sundry winks and warnings, admitted him into the library. Expecting he knew not what nor whom, Charley Tippery advanced across the large room to the strange man and woman. Unlike Parker, their sunburn and travel-stain caught his eye, not as insignia suspicious, but as tokens worthy of wider consideration than average New York accords its more or less average visitors. Leoncia’s beauty was like a blow between the eyes, and he knew she was a lady. Henry’s bronze, brazed upon features unmistakably reminiscent of Francis and of R.H.M., drew his admiration and respect.
- 43. “Good morning,” he addressed Henry, although he subtly embraced Leoncia with his greeting. “Friends of Francis?” “Oh, sir,” Leoncia cried out. “We are more than friends. We are here to save him. I have read the morning papers. If only it weren’t for the stupidity of the servants ...” And Charley Tippery was immediately unaware of any slightest doubt. He extended his hand to Henry. “I am Charley Tippery,” he said. “And my name’s Morgan, Henry Morgan,” Henry met him warmly, like a drowning man clutching at a life preserver. “And this is Miss Solano—the Senorita Solano—Mr. Tippery. In fact, Miss Solano is my sister.” “I came on the same errand,” Charley Tippery announced, introductions over. “The saving of Francis, as I understand it, must consist of hard cash or of securities indisputably negotiable. I have brought with me what I have hustled all night to get, and what I am confident is not sufficient——” “How much have you brought?” Henry asked bluntly. “Eighteen hundred thousand—what have you brought?” “Piffle,” said Henry, pointing to the open suit-case, unaware that he talked to a three-generations’ gem expert. A quick examination of a dozen of the gems picked at random, and an even quicker eye-estimate of the quantity, put wonder and excitement into Charley Tippery’s face. “They’re worth millions! millions!” he exclaimed. “What are you going to do with them?” “Negotiate them, so as to help Francis out,” Henry answered. “They’re security for any amount, aren’t they?” “Close up the suit-case,” Charley Tippery cried, “while I telephone!— I want to catch my father before he leaves the house,” he explained
- 44. over his shoulder, while waiting for his switch. “It’s only five minutes’ run from here.” Just as he concluded the brief words with his father, Parker, followed by a police lieutenant and two policemen, entered. “There’s the gang, lieutenant—arrest them,” Parker said.—“Oh, sir, I beg your pardon, Mr. Tippery. Not you, of course.—Only the other two, lieutenant. I don’t know what the charge will be—crazy, anyway, if not worse, which is more likely.” “How do you do, Mr. Tippery,” the lieutenant greeted familiarly. “You’ll arrest nobody, Lieutenant Burns,” Charley Tippery smiled to him. “You can send the wagon back to the station. I’ll square it with the Inspector. For you’re coming along with me, and this suit-case, and these suspicious characters, to my house. You’ll have to be bodyguard—oh, not for me, but for this suit-case. There are millions in it, cold millions, hard millions, beautiful millions. When I open it before my father, you’ll see a sight given to few men in this world to see.—And now, come on everybody. We’re wasting time.” He made a grab at the suit-case simultaneously with Henry, and, as both their hands clutched it, Lieutenant Burns sprang to interfere. “I fancy I’ll carry it until it’s negotiated,” Henry asserted. “Surely, surely,” Charley Tippery conceded, “as long as we don’t lose any more precious time. It will take time to do the negotiating. Come on! Hustle!”