Yollop
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George Barr McCutcheon >> Yollop
"Yollop, if you please."
"It means they got to go out and slug some innocent citizen, some
poor guy that had nothing whatever to do with drivin' them out, and
then if they happen to be caught they got to go through with all the
uncertainty of a trial by jury, never knowin' but what some
pin-headed juror will stick out for acquittal and make it necessary
to go through with it all over again. And more than that, they got
to listen to the testimony of a lot of policemen, and their own
derned fool lawyers, tryin' to deprive them of their bread and
butter, and the judge's instructions that nobody pays any attention
to except the shorthand reporter,--and them just settin' there sort
of helpless and not even able to say a word in their own behalf
because the law says they're innocent till they're proved guilty,--
why, I tell you, Mr. Dewlap, it's heart-breakin'. And all because
some weak-minded smart aleck gets them paroled. As I was sayin', the
law's all right if it wasn't for the people that abuse it."
"This is most interesting," said Mr. Yollop. "I've never quite
understood why ninety per cent of the paroled convicts go back to
the penitentiary so soon after they've been liberated."
"Of course," explained Mr. Smilk, "there are a few that don't get
back. That's because, in their anxiety to make good, they get killed
by some inexperienced policeman who catches 'em comin' out of
somebody's window or--"
"By the way, Cassius, let me interrupt you. Will you have a cigar?
Nice, pleasant way to pass an hour or two--beg pardon?"
"I was only sayin', if you don't mind I'll take one of these
cigarettes. Cigars are a little too heavy for me."
"I have some very light grade domestic--"
"I don't mean in quality. I mean in weight. What's the sense of
wastin' a lot of strength holding a cigar in your mouth when it
requires no effort at all to smoke a cigarette? Why, I got it all
figured out scientifically. With the same amount of energy you
expend in smokin' one cigar you could smoke between thirty and forty
cigarettes, and being sort of gradual, you wouldn't begin to feel
half as fatigued as if you--"
"Did I understand you to say 'scientifically', or was it
satirically?"
"I'm tryin' to use common, every-day words, Mr. Shallop," said Mr.
Smilk, with dignity, "and I wish you'd do the same."
"Ahem! Well, light up, Cassius. I think I'll smoke a cigar. When you
get through with the matches, push 'em over this way, will you? Help
yourself to those chocolate creams. There's a pound box of them at
your elbow, Oassius. I eat a great many. They're supposed to be
fattening. Help yourself." After lighting his cigar Mr. Yollop
inquired: "By the way, since you speak so feelingly I gather that
you are a paroled convict."
"That's what I am. And the worst of it is, it ain't my first
offense. I mean it ain't the first time I've been paroled. To begin
with, when I was somewhat younger than I am now, I was twice turned
loose by judges on what they call 'suspended sentences.' Then I was
sent up for two years for stealin' something or other,--I forgot
just what it was. I served my time and a little later on went up
again for three years for holdin' up a man over in Brooklyn. Well, I
got paroled out inside of two years, and for nearly six months I had
to report to the police ever' so often. Every time I reported I had
my pockets full of loot I'd snitched durin' the month, stuff the
bulls were lookin' for in every pawn-shop in town, but to save my
soul I couldn't somehow manage to get myself caught with the goods
on me. Say, I'd give two years off of my next sentence if I could
cross my legs for five or ten minutes. This is gettin' worse and
worse all the--"
"You might try putting your left foot in the right hand drawer and
your right foot in the other one," suggested Mr. Yollop.
Mr. Smilk stared. "I've seen a lot of kidders in my time, but you
certainly got 'em all skinned to death," said he.
Mr. Yollop puffed reflectively for awhile, pondering the situation.
"Well, suppose you remove one foot at a time, Cassius. As soon it is
fairly well rested, put it back again and then take the other one
out for a spell,--and so on. Half a loaf is better than no loaf at
all."
Smilk withdrew his left foot from its drawer and sighed gratefully.
"As I was sayin'," he resumed, "if we could only put some kind of a
curb on these here tender-hearted boobs--and boobesses--the world
would be a much better place to live in. The way it is now, nine
tenths of the fellers up in Sing Sing never know when they'll have
to pack up and leave, and it's a constant strain on the nerves, I
tell you. There seems to be a well-organized movement to interfere
with the personal liberty of criminals, Mr. Poppup. These here
sentimental reformers take it upon themselves to say whether a
feller shall stay in prison or not. First, they come up there and
pick out some poor helpless feller and say 'it's a crime to keep a
good-lookin', intelligent boy like you in prison, so we're going to
get you out on parole and make an honest, upright citizen of you.
We're going to get you a nice job',--and so on and so forth. Well,
before he knows it, he's out and has to put up a bluff of workin'
for a livin'. Course, he just has to go to stealin' again. It makes
him sore when he thinks of the good, honest life he was leadin' up
there in the pen, with nothin' to worry about, satisfactory hours,
plenty to eat, and practically divorced from his wife without havin'
to go through the mill. If my calculations are correct, more than
fifty per cent of the crime that's bein' committed these days is the
work of paroled convicts who depended on the law to protect and
support them for a given period of time. And does the law protect
them? It does not. It allows a lot of pinheads to interfere with it,
and what's the answer? A lot of poor devils are forced to go out and
risk their lives tryin' to--"
"Just a moment, please," interrupted Mr. Yollop. "You are talking a
trifle too fast, Cassius. Moderate your speed a little. Before we go
any further, I would like to be set straight on one point. Do you
mean to tell me that you actually prefer being in prison?"
"Well, now, that's a difficult question to answer," mused Mr. Smilk.
"Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. It's sort of like being
married, I suppose. Sometimes you're glad you're married and
sometimes you wish to God you wasn't. Course, I've only been married
three or four times, and I've been in the pen six times, one place
or another, so I guess I'm not what you'd call an unbiased witness.
I seem to have a leanin' toward jail,--about three to one in favor
of jail, you might say, with the odds likely to be increased pretty
shortly if all goes well. Do you mind if I change drawers?"
"Eh! Oh, I see. Go ahead."
Mr. Smilk put his right foot back into its drawer and withdrew the
left.
"Gets you right across this tendon on the back of your ankle," he
said. "Now, you take the daily life of the average laboring man," he
went on earnestly. "What does he get out of it? Nothin' but
expenses. The only thing that don't cost him something is work. And
all the time he's at work his expenses are goin' on just the same,
pilin' up durin' his absence from home. Rent, food, fuel, light,
doctor, liquor, clothes, shoes,--everything pilin' up on him while
he's workin' for absolutely nothin' between pay days. The only time
he gets anything for his work is on pay day. The rest of the time
he's workin' for nothin', week in and week out. Say he works
forty-four hours a week. When does he get his pay? While he's
workin'? Not much. He has to work over time anywhere from fifteen
minutes to half an hour--on his own time, mind you--standin' in line
to get his pay envelope. And then when he gets it, what does he have
to do? He has to go home and wonder how the hell he's goin' to get
through the next week with nothin' but carfare to go on after his
wife has told him to come across. Now you take a convict. He hasn't
an expense in the world. Free grub, free bed, free doctor, free
clothes,--he could have free liquor if the keepers would let his
friends bring it in,--and his hours ain't any longer than any union
man's hours. He don't have to pay dues to any labor union, he don't
have to worry about strikes or strike benefits, he don't give a
whoop what Gompers or anybody else says about Gary, and he don't
care a darn whether the working man gets his beer or whether the
revenue officers get it. He--"
"Wait a second, please. Just as a matter of curiosity, Cassius, I'd
like to know what your views are on prohibition."
"Are you thinkin' of askin' me if I'll have something to drink?"
inquired Mr. Smilk craftily.
"What has that to do with it?"
"A lot," said Mr. Smilk, with decision.
"Do you approve of prohibition?"
"I do," said the rogue. "In moderation."
"Well, as soon as the police arrive I'll open a bottle of Scotch. In
the meantime go ahead with your very illuminating dissertation. I am
beginning to understand why crime is so attractive, so alluring. I
am almost able to see why you fellows like to go to the
penitentiary."
"If you could only get shut up for a couple of years, Mr. Wollop,
you'd appreciate just what has been done in the last few years to
make us fellers like it. You wouldn't believe how much the reformers
have done to induce us to come back as soon as possible. They give
us all kinds of entertainment, free of charge. Three times a week we
have some sort of a show, generally a band concert, a movin' picture
show and a vaudeville show. Then, once a month they bring up some
crackin' good show right out of a Broadway theater to make us forget
that it's Sunday and we'll have to go to work the next morning.
Scenery and costumes and everything and--and--" Here Mr. Smilk
showed signs of blubbering, a weakness that suddenly gave way to the
most energetic indignation. "Why, doggone it, every time I think of
what that woman done to me, I could bite a nail in two. If it hadn't
been for--"
"Woman? What woman?"
"The woman that got me paroled out. She got I don't know how many
people to sign a petition, sayin' I was a fine feller and all that
kind o' bunk, and all I needed was a chance to show the world how
honest I am and--why, of course, I was honest. How could I help
bein' honest up there? What's eatin' the darn fools? The only thing
you can steal up there is a nap, and you got to be mighty slick if
you want to do that, they watch you so close. But do you know what's
going on in this country right now, Mr. Popple? There's a regular
organized band of law-breakers operating from one end of the nation
to the other. We're tryin' to bust it up, but it's a tough job. The
best way to reform a reformer is to rob him. The minute he finds out
he's been robbed he turns over a new leaf and begins to beller like
a bull about how rotten the police are. Ninety nine times out of a
hundred he quits his cussed interferin' with the law and becomes a
decent, law-observin' citizen. Our scheme is to get busy as soon as
we've been turned loose and while our so-called benefactors are
still rejoicin' over havin' snatched a brand from the burnin', we up
and show 'em the error of their ways. First offenders get off fairly
easy. We simply sneak in and take their silver and some loose
jewelry. The more hardened they are, the worse we treat 'em. Eing
leaders some times get beat up so badly it's impossible to identify
'em at the morgue. But in time we'll smash the gang, and then if a
feller goes up for ten, twenty or even thirty years he'll know
there's no underhanded work goin' on and he can settle down to an
honest life. The only way to stop crime in this country, Mr. Yollop,
is to--"
"Thank you."
"--is to make EVERYBODY respect the law. And with conditions so
pleasant and so happy in the prison I want to tell you there's
nobody in the country that respects and admires the law more than we
do,--'specially us fellers that remember what the penitentiaries
used to be like a few years ago when conditions were so tough that
most of us managed to earn an honest livin' outside sooner than run
the risk of gettin' sent up." He sighed deeply. Then with a trace of
real solicitude in his manner: "Are your feet warm yet?"
"Warm as toast. Your discourse, Cassius, has moved me deeply.
Perhaps it would comfort you to call up police headquarters again
and tell 'em to hurry along?"
"Wouldn't be a bad idea," said Mr. Smilk. He took down the receiver.
Presently: "Police headquarters? ... How about sending over to 418
Sagamore for that burglar I was speakin' to you about recently? ...
Sure, he's here yet. ... The same name I gave you earlier in the
evening. ... Spell it yourself. You got it written down on a pad
right there in front of you, haven't you? ... Say, if you don't get
somebody around here pretty quick, I'm goin' to call up two or three
of the newspaper offices and have 'em send--... All right. See that
you do." Turning to Mr. Yollop, he said: "The police are a pretty
decent lot when you get to know 'em, Mr. Yollop. They do their share
towards enforcin' the law. They do their best to get us the limit.
The trouble is, they got to fight tooth and nail against almost
everybody that ain't on the police force. Specially jurymen. There
ain't a juryman in New York City that wants to believe a policeman
on oath. He'd sooner believe a crook, any day. And sometimes the
judges are worse than the juries. A pal of mine, bein' in
considerable of a hurry to get back home one very cold winter,
figured that if he went up and plead guilty before a judge he'd save
a lot of time. Well, sir, the doggone judge looked him over for a
minute or two, and suddenly, out of a clear sky, asked him if he had
a family,--and when he acknowledged, being an honest though ignorant
guy, that he had a wife and three children, the judge said, if he'd
promise to go out and earn a livin' for them he'd let him off with a
suspended sentence, and before he had a chance to say he'd be damned
if he'd make any such fool promise, the bailiff hustled him out the
runway and told him to 'beat it'. He had to go out and slug a poor
old widow woman and rob her of all the money she'd saved since her
husband died--say, that reminds me. I got a favor I'd like to ask
of you, Mr. Yollop."
"I'm inclined to grant almost any favor you may ask," said Mr.
Yollop, sympathetically. "I know how miserable you must feel,
Cassius, and how hard life is for you. Do you want me to shoot you?"
"No, I don't," exclaimed Mr. Smilk hastily. "I want you to take my
roll of bills and hide it before the police come. That ain't much to
ask, is it?"
"Bless my soul! How extraordinary!"
"There's something over six hundred dollars in the roll," went on
Cassius confidentially. "It ain't that I'm afraid the cops will grab
it for themselves, understand. But, you see, it's like this. The
first thing the judge asks you when you are arraigned is whether you
got the means to employ a lawyer. If you ain't, he appoints some one
and it don't cost you a cent. Now, if I go down to the Tombs with
all this money, why, by gosh, it will cost me just that much to get
sent to Sing Sing, 'cause whatever you've got in the shape of real
money is exactly what your lawyer's fee will be, and it don't seem
sensible to spend all that money to get sent up when you can obtain
the same result for nothin'. Ain't that so?"
"It sounds reasonable, Cassius. You appear to be a thrifty as well
as an honest fellow. But, may I be permitted to ask what the devil
you are doing with six hundred dollars on your person while actively
engaged in the pursuit of your usual avocation? Why didn't you leave
it at home?"
"Home? My God, man, don't you know it ain't safe these days to have
a lot of money around the house? With all these burglaries going on?
Not on your life. Even if I had had all this dough when I left home
to-night, I wouldn't have taken any such chance as leavin' it there.
The feller I'm roomin' with is figurin' on turning over a new leaf;
he's thinkin' of gettin' married for five or six months and I don't
think he could stand temptation."
"Do you mean to say, you acquired your roll after leaving home
tonight, eh?"
"To be perfectly honest with you, Mr. Moppup, I--"
"Yollop, please."
"--Yollop, I found this money in front of a theater up town,--just
after the police nabbed a friend of mine who had frisked some guy of
his roll and had to drop it in a hurry."
"And you want me to keep it for you till you are free again,--is
that it?"
"Just as soon as the trial is over and I get my sentence, I'll send
a pal of mine around to you with a note and you can turn it over to
him. All I'm after, is to keep some lawyer from gettin'--"
"What would you say, Cassius, if I were to tell you that I am a
lawyer?"
"I'd say you're a darned fool to confess when you don't have to,"
replied Mr. Smilk succinctly.
Mr. Yollop chuckled. "Well, I'm not a lawyer. Nevertheless, I must
decline to act as a depository for your obviously ill-gotten gains."
"Gee, that's tough," lamented Mr. Smilk. "Wouldn't you just let me
drop it behind something or other,--that book case over there
say,--and I'll promise to send for it some night when you're out,--"
"No use, Cassius," broke in Mr. Yollop, firmly. "I'm deaf to your
entreaties. Permit me to paraphrase a very well-known line. 'None so
deaf as him who will not hear.'"
"If I speak very slowly and distinctly don't you think you could
hear me if I was to offer to split the wad even with
you,--fifty-fifty,--no questions asked?" inquired Cassius, rather
wistfully.
"See here," exclaimed Mr. Yollop, irritably; "you got me in this
position and I want you to get me out of it. While I've been
squatting here listening to you, they've both gone to sleep and I'm
hanged if I can move 'em. I never would have dreamed of sitting on
them if you hadn't put the idea into my head, confound you."
"Let 'em hang down for a while," suggested Mr. Smilk. "That'll wake
'em up."
"Easier said than done," snapped the other. He managed, however, to
get his benumbed feet to the floor and presently stood up on them.
Mr. Smilk watched him with interest as he hobbled back and forth in
front of the desk. "They'll be all right in a minute or two. By
Jove, I wish my sister could have heard all you've been saying about
prisons and paroles and police. I ought to have had sense enough to
call her. She's asleep at the other end of the hall."
"I hate women," growled Mr. Smilk. "Ever since that pie-faced dame
got me chucked out of Sing Sing,--say, let me tell you something
else she done to me. She gave me an address somewhere up on the East
Side and told me to come and see her as soon as I got out. Well, I
hadn't been out a week when I went up to see her one night,--or,
more strictly speakin', one morning about two o'clock. What do you
think? It was an empty house, with a 'for rent' sign on it. I found
out the next day she'd moved a couple of weeks before and had gone
to some hotel for the winter because it was impossible to keep any
servants while this crime wave is goin' on. The janitor told me
she'd had three full sets of servants stole right out from under her
nose by female bandits over on Park Avenue. I don't suppose I'll
ever have another chance to get even with her. Everything all set to
bind and gag her, and maybe rap her over the bean a couple of times
and--say, can you beat it for rotten luck? She--she double-crossed
me, that's what she--"
A light, hesitating rap on the library door interrupted Mr. Smilk's
bitter reflection.
CHAPTER THREE
"Some one at the door," the burglar announced, after a moment. Mr.
Yollop had failed to hear the tapping.
"You can't fool me, Cassius. It's an old trick but it won't work.
I've seen it done on the stage too many times to be caught napping
by,--"
"There it goes again. Louder, please!" he called with considerable
vehemence and was rewarded by a scarcely audible tapping indicative
not only of timidity but of alarm as well--"Say," he bawled,
"you'll have to cut out that spirit rapping if you want to come in.
Use your night-stick!"
"Ah, the police at last," cried Mr. Yollop. "You'd better take this
revolver now, Mr. Smilk," he added hastily. "I won't want 'em to
catch me with a weapon in my possession. It means a heavy fine or
imprisonment." He shoved the pistol across the desk. "They wouldn't
believe me if I said it was yours."
A sharp, penetrating rat-a-tat on the door. Mr. Smilk picked up the
revolver.
"You bet they wouldn't," said he. "If I swore on a stack of bibles I
let a boob like you take it away from me, they'd send me to
Matteawan, and God knows,--"
"Come in!" called out Mr. Yollop.
The door opened and a plump, dumpy lady in a pink peignoir, her
front hair done up in curl-papers stood revealed on the threshold
blinking in the strong light.
"Goodness gracious, Crittenden," she cried irritably, "don't you
know what time of night it--"
She broke off abruptly as Mr. Smilk, with a great clatter, yanked
his remaining foot from the drawer and arose, overturning the
swivel-chair in his haste.
"Well, for the love of--" oozed from his gaping mouth. Suddenly he
turned his face away and hunched one shoulder up as a sort of
shield.
"It's long past three o'clock," went on the newcomer severely. "I'm
sorry to interrupt a conference but I do think you might arrange for
an appointment during the day, sir. My brother has not been well and
if ever a man needed sleep and rest and regular hours, he does.
Crittenden, I wish you--"
"Cassius," interrupted Mr. Yollop urbanely, "this is my sister, Mrs.
Champney. I want you to repeat--Turn around here, can't you? What's
the matter with you?"
"Don't order me around like that," muttered Mr. Smilk, still with
his face averted. "I've got the gun now and I'll do as I damn'
please. You can't talk to me like--"
"Goodness! Who is this man?" cried the lady, stopping short to
regard the blasphemer with shocked, disapproving eyes. "And what is
he doing with a revolver in his hand?"
"Give me that pistol,--at once," commanded Mr. Yollop. "Hand it
over!"
"Not on your life," cried Mr. Smilk triumphantly. He faced Mrs.
Champney. "Take off them rings, you. Put 'em here on the desk.
Lively, now! And don't yelp! Do you get me? DON'T YELP!"
Mrs. Champney stared unblinkingly, speechless.
"Put up your hands, Yollop!" ordered Mr. Smilk.
"Why,--why, it's Ernest,--Ernest Wilson," she gasped, incredulously.
Then, with a little squeak of relief: "Don't pay any attention to
him, Crittenden. He is a friend of mine. Don't you remember me,
Ernest? I am--"
"You bet your life I remember you," said the burglar softly, almost
purringly.
"Ernest your grandmother," cried Mr. Yollop jerking the disk first
one way and then the other in order to catch the flitting duologue.
"His name is Smilk,--Cassius Smilk."
"Nothing of the sort," said Mrs. Champney sharply. "It's Ernest
Wilson,--isn't it, Ernest?"
"Take off them rings," was the answer she got.
"What is this man doing here, Crittenden?" demanded Mrs. Champney,
paying no heed to Smilk's command.
"He's a burglar," replied Mr. Yollop. "I guess you'd better take off
your rings, Alice."
"Do you mean to tell me, Ernest Wilson, that you've gone back to
your evil ways after all I,--"
"I say, Cassius," cried Mr. Yollop, "is this the woman you wanted to
bind and gag and--and--"
"Yes, and rap over the bean," finished Mr. Smilk, as the speaker
considerately refrained.
"Rap over the--what?" inquired Mrs. Champney, squinting.
"The bean," said Mr. Smilk, with emphasis.
"I can't imagine what has come over you, Ernest. You were such a
nice, quiet, model prisoner,--one of the most promising I ever had
anything to do with. The authorities assured me that you--do you
mean to tell me that you entered this apartment for the purpose of
robbing it? Don't answer! I don't want to hear your voice again. You
have given me the greatest disappointment of my life. I trusted you,
Ernest,--I had faith in you,--and--and now I find you here in my
own brother's apartment, of all places in the world, still pursuing
your-"
"Well, you went and moved away on me," broke in Smilk wrathfully.
"That's right, Alice," added Mr. Yollop. "You went and moved on him.
He told me that just before you came in."
"You may as well understand right now, Ernest Wilson, that I shall
never intercede for you again," said Mrs. Champney sternly. "I shall
let you rot in prison. I am through with you. You don't deserve--"
"Are you goin' to take off them rings, or have I got to--"
"Would you rob your benefactress?" demanded the lady.
"Every time I think of all that you robbed me of, I--I--" began Mr.
Smilk, shakily.
"Don't blubber, Cassius," said Mr. Yollop consolingly. "You see, my
dear Alice, Mr. Smilk thinks,--and maintains,--that you did him a
dirty trick when you had him turned out into a wicked, dishonest
world. He was living on the fat of the land up there in Sing Sing,
seeing motion pictures and plays and so forth, without a worry in
the world, with union hours and union pay, no one depending--"