It struck him hard, but it left him gentle.
“Babs,” he said, softly, “I can’t take that from you. You don’t really mean it, do you? Am I as bad as that?”
It was a moment for dominance, and he missed it. His gentleness left her cold.
“Monty,” she exclaimed irritably, “you are terribly exasperating. Do make up your mind that you and your million are not the only things in the world.”
His blood was up now, but it flung him away from her.
“Some day, perhaps, you’ll find out that there is not much besides. I am just a little too big, for one thing, to be played with and thrown aside. I won’t stand it.”
He left the house with his head high in the air, angry red in his cheeks, and a feeling in his heart that she was the most unreasonable of women. Barbara, in the meantime, cried herself to sleep, vowing she would never love Monty Brewster again as long as she lived.
A sharp cutting wind was blowing in Monty’s face as he left the house. He was thoroughly wretched.
“Throw up your hands!” came hoarsely from somewhere, and there was no tenderness in the tones. For an instant Monty was dazed and bewildered, but in the next he saw two shadowy figures walking beside him. “Stop where you are, young fellow,” was the next command, and he stopped short. He was in a mood to fight, but the sight of a revolver made him think again. Monty was not a coward, neither was he a fool. He was quick to see that a struggle would be madness.
“What do you want?” he demanded as coolly as his nerves would permit.
“Put up your hands quick!” and he hastily obeyed the injunction.
“Not a sound out of you or you get it good and proper. You know what we want. Get to work, Bill; I’ll watch his hands.”
“Help yourselves, boys. I’m not fool enough to scrap about it. Don’t hit me or shoot, that’s all. Be quick about it, because I’ll take cold if my overcoat is open long. How’s business been tonight?” Brewster was to all intents and purposes the calmest man in New York.
“Fierce!” said the one who was doing the searching. “You’re the first guy we’ve seen in a week that looks good.”
“I hope you won’t be disappointed,” said Monty, genially. “If I’d expected this I might have brought more money.”
“I guess we’ll be satisfied,” chuckled the man with the revolver. “You’re awful nice and kind, mister, and maybe you wouldn’t object to tellin’ us when you’ll be up dis way ag’in.”
“It’s a pleasure to do business with you, pardner,” said the other, dropping Monty’s $300 watch in his pocket. “We’ll leave carfare for you for your honesty.” His hands were running through Brewster’s pockets with the quickness of a machine. “You don’t go much on jewelry, I guess. Are dese shoit buttons de real t’ing?”
“They’re pearls,” said Monty, cheerfully.
“My favorite jool,” said the man with the revolver. “Clip ’em out, Bill.”
“Don’t cut the shirt,” urged Monty. “I’m going to a little supper and I don’t like the idea of a punctured shirtfront.”
“I’ll be as careful as I kin, mister. There, I guess dat’s all. Shall I call a cab for you, sir?”
“No, thank you, I think I’ll walk.”
“Well, just walk south a hundred steps without lookin’ ’round er yellin’ and you kin save your skin. I guess you know what I mean, pardner.”
“I’m sure I do. Good night.”
“Good night,” came in chuckles from the two holdup men. But Brewster hesitated, a sharp thought penetrating his mind.
“By gad!” he exclaimed, “you chaps are very careless. Do you know you’ve missed a roll of three hundred dollars in this overcoat pocket?” The men gasped and the spasmodic oaths that came from them were born of incredulity. It was plain that they doubted their ears.
“Say it ag’in,” muttered Bill, in bewildered tones.
“He’s stringin’ us, Bill,” said the other.
“Sure,” growled Bill. “It’s a nice way to treat us, mister. Move along now and don’t turn ’round.”
“Well, you’re a couple of nice highwaymen,” cried Monty in disgust.
“Sh—not so loud.”
“That is no way to attend to business. Do you expect me to go down in my pocket and hand you the goods on a silver tray?”
“Keep your hands up! You don’t woik dat game on me. You got a gun there.”
“No, I haven’t. This is on the level. You overlooked a roll of bills in your haste and I’m not the sort of fellow to see an earnest endeavorer get the worst of it. My hands are up. See for yourself if I’m not telling you the truth.”
“What kind of game is dis?” growled Bill, dazed and bewildered. “I’m blowed if I know w’at to t’ink o’ you,” cried he in honest amazement. “You don’t act drunk, and you ain’t crazy, but there’s somethin’ wrong wid you. Are you givin’ it to us straight about de wad?”
“You can find out easily.”
“Well, I hate to do it, boss, but I guess we’ll just take de overcoat and all. It looks like a trick and we takes no chances. Off wid de coat.”
Monty’s coat came off in a jiffy and he stood shivering before the dumbfounded robbers.
“We’ll leave de coat at de next corner, pardner. It’s cold and you need it more’n we do. You’re de limit, you are. So long. Walk right straight ahead and don’t yell.”
Brewster found his coat a few minutes later, and went whistling away into the night. The roll of bills was gone.
XII
Christmas Despair
Brewster made a good story of the “holdup” at the club, but he did not relate all the details. One of the listeners was a new public commissioner who was aggressive in
