Well, Johnny couldn’t stand for that and he got up and dressed and was starting out to borrow two hundred dollars from me to lend to Kane, when the phone rang loud and long. Kane took off the receiver, listened a second, and then said “Uh-huh” and hung up.
“Who was it?” asked Johnny.
“Nobody,” says Kane. “Just one of Bull Wade’s gags.”
“What did he say?” Johnny asked him.
“It was a gal, probably the telephone operator,” said Kane. “She said the hotel was on fire and not to get excited, but that we better move out.”
“You fool!” yelled Johnny and run to the phone.
They was no gag about it. The hotel had really caught fire in the basement and everybody was being warned to take the air. Johnny tossed some of his stuff in a bag and started out, telling Kane to follow him quick. Hurry got out in the hall and then remembered that he had left his gal’s picture on the dresser and went back after it. Just as he turned towards the door again, in dashed a dame with a kimono throwed over her nightgown. It was Evelyn Corey herself, almost in the flesh.
“Oh, please!” she said, or screamed. “Come and help me carry my things!”
Well, here was once that the name “Hurry” was on the square. He dropped his own suitcase and was in her room in nothing and no-fifths. He grabbed her four pieces of hand baggage and was staggering to the hall with them when a bellhop bounced in and told them the danger was over, the fire was out.
This seemed to be more of a disappointment than Evelyn could stand. Anyway, she fainted—onto a couch—and for a few minutes she was too unconscious to do anything but ask Kane to pour her a drink. He also poured himself one and settled down in the easy chair like he was there for the day. But by now she had come to and got a good look at him.
“I thank you very much,” she said, “and I’m so exhausted with all this excitement that I think I’ll go back to bed.”
Kane took his hint and got up.
“But ain’t I going to see you again?” he asked her.
“I’m afraid not,” says Evelyn. “I’m leaving here this evening and I’ll be getting ready from now till then.”
“Where are you headed for?” Kane asked her.
“For home, New York,” she said.
“Can’t I have your address?” said Kane.
“Why, yes,” said Evelyn without batting an eye. “I live at the Ritz.”
“The Ritz!” says Kane. “That’s where I’m going to live, if they ain’t filled up.”
“How wonderful!” said Evelyn. “Then we’ll probably see each other every day.”
Kane beat it down to the dining-room and straight to Dave’s table.
“Boss,” he said, “I’ve changed my mind.”
“Your what!” says Dave.
“My mind,” says Kane. “I’ve decided to stick.”
It was all Dave could do not to kiss him. But he thought it was best to act calm.
“That’s fine, Hurry!” he said. “And I’ll see that you get that extra five hundred bucks.”
“What five hundred bucks?” says Kane.
“The five hundred I promised you if you’d stay,” says Dave.
“I hadn’t heard about it,” said Kane. “But as long as I ain’t going home, I’m in no rush for money. Though I’m liable to need it,” he says, “as soon as we hit New York.”
And he smiled the silliest smile you ever seen.
I don’t have to tell you that he didn’t live at the Ritz. Or that Evelyn Corey didn’t live there neither. He found out she hadn’t never lived there, but he figured she’d intended to and had to give it up because they didn’t have a suite good enough for her.
I got him a room in my boardinghouse in the Bronx and for the first few days he spent all his spare time looking through city directories and different telephone directories and bothering the life out of Information, trying to locate his lost lady. It was when he had practically give up hope that he told me his secret and asked for help.
“She’s all I came here for,” he said, “and if I can’t find her, I ain’t going to stay.”
Well, of course if you went at it the right way, you wouldn’t have much trouble tracing her. Pretty near anybody in the theatrical business, or the people that run the big night clubs, or the head waiters at the hotels and restaurants—they could have put you on the right track. The thing was that it would be worse to get a hold of her than not to, because she’d have give him the air so strong that he would have caught his death of cold.
So I just said that they was no question but what she had gone away somewheres, maybe to Europe, and he would hear from her as soon as she got back. I had to repeat this over and over and make it strong or he’d have left us flatter than his own feet before he pitched two games. As it was, we held him till the end of May without being obliged to try any tricks, but you could see he was getting more impatient and restless all the while and the situation got desperate just as we were starting on our first trip West. He asked me when would we hit St. Louis and I told him the date and said:
“What do you want to know for?”
“Because,” he says, “I’m going home from there.”
I repeated this sweet news to Dave and Kid Farrell. We finally called in Bull Wade and it was him that saved the day. You remember Bull had faked up a note from Evelyn to Kane down at Fort Gregg; now he suggested that he write some more notes, say one every two or three weeks, sign her name to them, send them to Bull’s brother in Montreal and have the brother mail them from there. It was a kind of a
