BY
HULBERT FOOTNER
AUTHOR OF "THIEVES' WIT," "THE SEALED VALLEY,"
"JACK CHANTY," ETC
NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
Copyright, 1919,
By George H. Doran Company
Printed in the United States of America
THE
SUBSTITUTE MILLIONAIRE
On a certain morning, just as on six mornings inthe week (barring holidays) and fifty weeks inthe year, Jack Norman wormed his way into a crowdedsubway local at Fiftieth street, and, propping himselfagainst the end of a cross seat, opened his paper. Butthis morning, like everybody else in the train, heapproached the headlines with an unusual thrill ofinterest, for an immense sensation was in process of beingunrolled in the press.
Two days before, Silas Gyde, the millionaire miserand usurer, had been blown to pieces in the street bya bomb. The assassin, arrested, proved to be not oneof those who had a grievance against the old moneylender (there were supposed to be many such) but amaniac of anarchistic proclivities. His name was EmilJansen. He was already on the way to an asylum forthe criminal insane.
The main facts of the case having been given inprevious issues, space in the paper to-day was largelydevoted to anecdotes illustrating the extraordinaryeccentricities of the dead man. It was said that with anincome of perhaps six millions a year, he spent no morethan six hundred. He bought his clothes at an immigrantoutfitters' on Washington street, and even so hadnot had a new suit in two years. To keep himself fromspending money it was his habit to go about with emptypockets, and borrow what few cents he needed frombootblacks, newsboys and applewomen to whom he waswell known. But he was scrupulous in repaying thesedebts. Every day, even when he had become old andfeeble, he turned up at the office of a certaincorporation for the sake of a free lunch provided to thedirectors, though he had to walk a mile from the Wallstreet district where all his business was transacted. Itwas at the door of this office that he had met his end.And so on. And so on.
Silas Gyde died a bachelor, and had left no kin sofar as was known. His wealth was said to be well inexcess of a hundred million dollars. The paper gavea tempting list of the gilt-edge securities he wassupposed to own; but nothing was known for sure, forthough continually engaged in litigation, he had leftno personal attorney; he had not sufficiently trustedany man. No one could say, now, where he had kepthis wealth or how he had intended to dispose of it.
Young Jack Norman read of the millions with thekind of aching gusto that a hungry man pictures a gooddinner. Jack's earnings were twelve dollars a week.He knew little about sociology or economics, but hecould not but feel a dim dissatisfaction with the schemeof things that restricted him, with all a youth's capacityfor living largely, to twelve dollars weekly, while itprovided the old man with the tastes of a hermit crab,with a hundred thousand.
Twelve dollars a week meant that Jack's still boyishappetite daily had to be less than satisfied by the fareof a second rate boarding house; it meant that he hadto wear cheap clothes when the instinct of his yearswas to array himself like Solomon; it meant that hislip must curl with envy as the pleasures of the townpassed him by; hardest of all to bear, it meant that thejoys of honorable courtship were denied him. A fellowmust hav