"Where's my dividends? I want to draw out my money! Say, you give me back my eighteen dollars, or I'll----You'll try your bunko game on me, will you? Hey! I've been waiting since noon to catch you, you----"

My! but they did have their hammers out! They called him everything that a lady could, and a few names that wa'n't so ladylike as they might have been. They shook things at him, and promised to do him all sorts of damage, from bringin' lawsuits to scratchin' his eyes out.

Mr. Pepper, though, he goes on smokin' and smilin', now and then throwin' in a shoulder shrug just to hint that there wa'n't any use in his tryin' to get in a word until they was all through. He almost acts like he enjoyed being mobbed; but of course he knew better'n to choke off a lot of women before they'd had their say out. He just let 'em jaw along and get it out of their systems. Fin'lly he raises his hand, takes off the green lid, and bows graceful.

"Ladies," says he, "I fully sympathize with your impatience--fully."

"You look it, I don't think!" sings out a big blonde, shakin' her willow plumes energetic.

Mr. Pepper throws her a smile and spiels ahead. "You will be pleased to hear, however," says he, "that the board of directors, on the strength of cabled advices from our general manager in Peru, has just voted an extra dividend of ten per cent."

"When do we get it? Show us some money!" howls the kickers.

"I have been requested to announce," goes on Mr. Pepper, "that payments from this office will be resumed promptly at noon--on the first day of next month."

Does that satisfy 'em? Not so you'd notice it. A bigger squawk than ever goes up, and the jam around Mr. Pepper begins to look like rush hour at the Hudson Terminal. They starts clawin' at his elbows, and grabbin' his coat, and when I notices one wild-eyed brunette reachin' for a hatpin I knew it was a case of me to the rescue or sendin' in an ambulance call.

Not that I had any notion what ought to be done in a case like this. I couldn't throw him a rope or shove out a plank; I ain't any expert woman trainer, either; but can I stand there with my mouth open and see an old friend get the hooks thrown into him by a cla.s.s in hysterics? Not when the hookee happens to be one that once set me up as a stockholder in a gold mine. So I lets flicker with the first fool idea that comes into my head.

"Gangway!" I shouts out, wedgin' my way in among 'em and usin' my elbows. "Gangway for the bank messenger! Ah, don't shove, girls; he ain't the only man left in New York. One side for the real money bringer! One side now!" And by holdin' the leather case high up where they could all see it, and hittin' the line like Coy does when it's three downs with ten yards to go, I manages to get through without losin' many coat b.u.t.tons.

"Here you are, sir," says I, shovin' the case out to Mr. Pepper and givin' him the knowin' look. "City National. Cashier wants a receipt."

Does he need a diagram and a card of instructions? Trust Belmont Pepper!

"Ah, this way," says he. "Pardon me a moment, ladies, only a moment.

This way, young man." And almost before they know what has happened him and me are behind the part.i.tion with the gate locked.

"Let's see," says he, lookin' me over kind of puzzled, "it's--er--Torchy, isn't it?"

"There's the proof," says I, liftin' the cover off my danger signal.

"I might have known," says he, "that no one else could have put up so good a bluff on the spur of the----"

"Now that's all right, Mr. Pepper," says I; "but the bluff won't hold 'em long. What you want to do is get busy and make a noise like hundred-dollar bills. I don't know what the trouble is; but it looks like the genuine goods to me."

"Diagnosis correct," says he. "I'm boxed. Now if they were only men, I could----"

"Oh, sure!" says I. "But a bunch of nutty fluffs is diff'rent. They never know what they want or why they want it. Say, ain't you got another exit?"

Mr. Pepper shakes his head. "No, son," says he; "but don't you worry about me. Your strategy thus far has been excellent; but I don't want you to get mixed up in this mess. Skip, Torchy, while the skipping is easy."

"Mr. Pepper," says I, "do I look like a quitter? I ain't forgot what you did about givin' me them Glory Be stocks, either, and I'm goin' to hang around here until this little private cyclone of yours blows over."

Mr. Pepper he looks at me a minute in that calm way of his, and then he shrugs his shoulders. "All right," says he.

Then we listens to the buzz outside. Some was explainin' to others how a bushel of money had just come in from the City National Bank, and some was insistin' that it was just a north-pole fake. It's a free-for-all debate with all rules in the discard. Then we hears one voice that's louder than the others calling out for a committee.

"We must organize!" she says. "Let's organize for action!"

"Ah!" observes Mr. Pepper. "Now for feminine tactics! That looks better."

A couple of minutes more and they've concluded to adjourn to the corridor. When they're all out and I can hear 'em down at the further end, I gives him the tip.

"Now's your chance!" says I. "Up one flight and you can get an express elevator. I'll show you."

Mr. Pepper don't like the idea, though, of doin' the gumshoe sneak. He hates to run away from any kind of a fight, specially a lot of women. He don't run, either; but after awhile he consents to walk out, and we strolls towards the steps dignified and easy.

It looked like a clean get-away for a minute, too; but I hadn't counted on their leavin' a picket to watch the elevator. She sees us and gives the alarm; so by the time we're up to the next floor the whole mob is after us, lettin' out the war cries as if it was a case of kidnappin'.

They struck the upper corridor just as I've got my finger on the b.u.t.ton, and in the front ranks they're pushin' along the gray uniformed special cop that they've rung up from the first floor. Also who should step out into the midst of the riot but Old Hickory Ellins, just leavin' the directors' meeting. He goes purple-faced and bug-eyed, but before I can dodge out of sight of course he spots me. And that's the very minute when a couple of lady avengers points me and Mr. Pepper out to the cop and the pinch business is about to begin.

"Why, what's all the row about, Torchy?" says he. "And who is that with you?" He gets answers from the anvil chorus.

"That's the swindler!" they shouts. "That's Prentice Owens! He's the one that took our money, and the boy is one of the gang! Nab 'em, Mr.

Officer, please nab 'em!"

"G'wan, you're a lot of flossy kikes!" I throws back at 'em.

"Torchy," says Mr. Ellins, "have you been up to any swindling game?"

"Honest, I ain't, Mr. Ellins," says I.

"I am inclined to believe that," says he; "but what about the other person? Is he a friend of yours?"

"Sure," says I. "And he's on the level too."

"He's Prentice Owens, is he?" says he.

"Nah," says I. "He's Mr. Belmont Pepper, he is, president of the Glory Be Mining Company. Why, I used to work for him! That aggregation of female dopes is full of prunes. Mr. Pepper's no crook."

"Hum!" says Old Hickory, rubbin' his chin. "A case of mistaken ident.i.ty, eh? Officer, you know me, I suppose?"

"Yes, Mr. Ellins," says the special, jerkin' off his cap, "oh, yes, sir."

"Then drive these deluded women downstairs and tell them their mistake,"

says Old Hickory. "Come, Mr. Pepper. Come, Torchy. In with you!"

And inside of two shakes we're shootin' down a one hundred and fifty foot shaft with no stops until the ground floor. Not until we gets outside and Mr. Ellins jumps into his cab does Mr. Pepper say a word.

"Torchy," says he, "you're the real thing in the friendship line. I will admit that appearances are somewhat against me, but----"

"Ah, say!" I breaks in. "Don't I know you, Mr. Pepper? Do I have to see any books to know that you're playin' a straight game? It was a matter of needin' a little time, wa'n't it, and bein' rushed off your feet when you didn't expect the move? I could guess that much from the start. All I want to ask is, how's the mine gettin' on, the Glory Be, you know?"

He looks at his feet for a second or so and kind of flushes. Then he straightens up, looks me level between the eyes, and reaches out a hand to give me the brotherhood grip.

"Torchy," says he, "there is a mine, and the last I heard it was still there. Anyway, I'm dropping the investment business right here, and I'm going out to see what our property looks like. I'll let you know." With that he whirls and dashes off across the avenue.

"How is it," says Piddie when I gets back, "that it takes you an hour and a quarter to go four blocks?"