The Player on the Other Side (4 page)

But Emily York was already on her way out. The black-jowled one put in his head and cooed anxiously, ‘Boss, you want I should —?'

‘
Get out!
' said the short heavy man with venom.

The door slammed shut.

Slowly the acne said, ‘That fishy-eyed son of a bitch York.'

‘Get on the phone! That old bag's got a slice of the same income Percy's got. Any time he can't settle his bills the lien goes on the principal. This is the Yorks of York Square, stupid.'

‘Heavy sugar,' mourned the short thin man.

‘You'll find out how heavy if they hit you with it! Start phoning, will you?'

Meanwhile, Emily York was turning briskly into a cathedral-like establishment not far away, the famous name of which was lettered in heavy bronze castings prominently small in the windows; the floor of which was pelted in cilia like the interior of a royal digestive tract; and whose price tags more often than not included the word ‘The':
Forty Dollars The Pair
and
Four Hundred Dollars The Set
.

The place smelled male, not the metal-and-soap maleness of a locker room nor the malt-and-sawdust maleness of an old-time corner saloon, but the leather-and-oiled-wood maleness of a city club, as finished and self-consistent as the ash of a fine cigar. At sight of the skirted figure stalking him, the sole visible attendant took refuge behind a showcase; surely a giraffe, were it a male one, would have startled him less.

Emily York marched up to him, demanded and got the manager and without preamble stated, ‘Mr. Percival York buys his clothes here. He charges them. If he continues to charge, his income will fall short of his obligations. If he ceases to charge, he may be able to cover his current account. It is easy to see how both your store and Mr. York can benefit.' After that she fully identified herself, explained the matter all over again and departed, leaving the costly cavern in hushed consternation and the very carpet-pile puzzled as to the disposal of her spoor.

Next on her list (she had a list) was a quite different kind and manner of establishment — a liquor store every bit as discriminating as the second car of a subway local. She identified the manager only because he had, on his wrinkled gray cotton jacket, the word in scarlet script over the pocket. He was a sparse-haired man with one frank cataract and wet lips displaying dark brown teeth.

Miss York asked to open an account, and when she was bluntly told that state law forbade it she demanded to know why Percival York was so honored. She quoted to the brown-toothed manager the exact balance due, pointed publicly at his framed license and promised him faithfully that the delivery to Percival York, for anything other than cash, of anything in stock down to and including cooking sherry would mean that both his store and he would learn something about locks. As a parting shot she suggested a revision, in his invoices to her drinking cousin, of special prices he had been charging. (It was a shot in the dark that cut nearly forty per cent off Percival's next bill, a fact Percival himself was never to appreciate.)

Having thus obeyed, with all her heart and to the best of her belief, the ancient edict that charity should begin at home, Miss Emily York boarded a crosstown bus and went to her regular work at the settlement house.

4

Maneuvering

He had written:

Dear Walt:

You are the one.

Are there men anywhere, in any walk of life, who are as controlled as you are, as dignified?

Yes, a few. Some, born to the purple, have their high code inborn. Some rise to the top openly by their own worth. And some, perhaps the worthiest of all, remain bound by their honor and their sacred duty.

These are the trodden, but not downtrodden. These are the lowly, but never the low.

The true measure of the size of a man is his anger. Does this mean that the violent man, the assertive and pugnacious man, is thereby the larger man? No, even though this is how most men behave.

‘Don't tread on me.' A good motto — for a snake.

I can look into the hearts of all men. And I tell you this about them: Those who are quick in their furies are furious at themselves. This is because, and only because, they are not sure who they are, what it is that lives under their skins. They are afraid, afraid.

Not so the man who knows what he is. Righteousness is within him, it cannot be affected by anything outside him. A brave man is not afraid to appear humble. He knows what he is. He need not prove he is brave, just as a tall man need not prove he is tall. Bravery, righteousness, are sufficient unto themselves.

This is the true and inner meaning of the words ‘The meek shall inherit the earth.' The meek are the righteous who need never reveal their inner might to other men.

You are a righteous man. You are beyond fear. Have faith in me and I shall guard you and keep you and make you master. There is no thing I cannot do. There is no force I cannot control. Your faith in me must be absolute, for absolute is my confidence in you.

You know who I am. Do not speak my name. Do not be afraid to know me.

Now you may take the first small step toward your destiny.

With this letter I give you a white card cut in a special shape. You are to conceal this card where no one can find it.

Go then to Scholz's Toy Store on Fifth Avenue. It is a very large toy store and many people go in and out. Do nothing to attract attention to yourself, in any way. Move quietly among the people until you find yourself in the last aisle, which runs front to back by the north wall.

Halfway up the aisle you will see toy typewriters, printing presses, rubber stamp kits and the like. Move along until you see, on the wall shelves, a stack of boxes, blue with red and gold letters, marked PRINTS CHARMING. The price for one of these is &1.49 plus sales tax.

Have your money ready. Point and murmur. Do not speak up. Do not ask for it at all until the moment you have the clerk's attention. Make your purchase quickly, have it wrapped, plainly, leave quietly. Step aside, make way, wait.

Do all you can to stay clear of others without calling attention to yourself.

Walk to Third Avenue and turn right. You will see a supermarket near the corner. You are not known there. Go in and buy enough groceries to require a large paper bag, but not enough to fill it. Slip your package from Scholz's into the unfilled part. From then on you are simply a man going home with a bag of groceries.

Go home. Lock yourself in your room. Lower the blinds. Open the box and take out the toy printing set. Remove the letter J — there are capital letters only in this set — and open the ink pad.

Press the J on the ink pad and practice stamping it on scrap paper until you get a good clear impression every time.

IMPORTANT: Be sure to gather up each scrap of practice paper afterward and destroy it.

Now take the enclosed card. Place it on the table in the following position:

Now very carefully ink the letter J and very carefully stamp it on the card, so:

Let the J dry. When it is dry, put the card in a plain white envelope, seal the envelope and write on it in plain capital letters:

ROBERT YORK

YORK SQUARE

NEW YORK, N. Y.

Stick a 5¢ stamp on the envelope, place it securely in an inside pocket. If you can get it into the mailbox at Surrey Street before 9:30, do that. If later, you must take it to the Church Street post office. Drop it into the mailbox outside. Do not hurry. Do not linger.

Carry out the instructions in this letter well, and the later, larger duties will be easy for you.

I know the past. I know the future. I predict: in a very few hours, a few days at most, when you turn your hand, they shall tremble.

Dispose of this letter as you have the others.

I am (but you know who I am!)

Y

5

Interplay

‘I brought the mail.'

Tom Archer's dealings with Robert York had been correct, dignified and beyond criticism. Work on the records of Robert York's philatelic holdings proceeded smoothly, and at lunchtime the day before, they had agreed with the politeness of duelists that the end was at last in sight and soon they could begin the final cataloguing. Work had also been done on the family accounts — that part of the accounts, of course, in which the four Yorks were concerned in common, not individually. Robert York, as eldest of the cousins, and as by nature the logical representative of the founding Yorks, had charge of this work by general consent. Tom Archer, as Robert's secretary, helped with the accounting and was privy to these particular matters — wages for the help, upkeep and maintenance of houses and park, prorating of part-time wages as in the case of Mrs. Schriver, the housekeeper who slept out and ‘did' for Percival as well as for Robert; and such trivia.

The waiting stiffness between the two men had doubtless contributed to their efficiency. Tom Archer (because he was at root a man of peace) and Robert York (whose self-righteousness had as one of its prime articles an insistence on fair play) were, in each his own way, ashamed of the outbreak of temper over the alleged Seebecks. And each, unknown to the other, had his special reason for wishing to preserve their relationship. In a way, then, this particular mail was a pity, for it could not fail to upset their precarious equilibrium.

Tom Archer set the mail down before his employer and a sense of fatefulness flashed through him:
This will change things a bit!
But first, from his breast pocket he took a manila envelope, drew out its contents and placed them on the envelope and the envelope on the small heap of mail.

‘There!'

Robert York pursed his very thin lips. ‘What's this?'

‘The analysis from Jenks & Donahue.' Archer extruded a forefinger and slightly separated the sheets in Robert York's hand. ‘And here are the stamps.'

‘Hmp,' said Robert York, and he began to read.

‘Oh!' he said after a second.

‘Oh …' he said, after a minute.

Then he looked up, his skin tighter than usual, his barely bluish lips puckered with the bitter taste of crow.

‘I said that if this report proved the stamps genuine, I should owe you an apology. You have it.'

‘Thank you.'

‘Mr. Archer, I meant what I said when I made your resignation contingent upon this.' He tapped the report.

‘I am quite aware of that, sir.'

‘Had it proved that you made a mistake, I should have insisted upon it. Since it's I who was mistaken I feel I must offer, rather than demand, the same thing.'

‘I don't understand, Mr. York.'

‘Then I shall explain,' said Robert York stiffly. ‘It may well be that after what has happened you will no longer wish to be associated with me. If that is the case, I shall certainly understand it; and to do what I can to right the injustice, I shall give you the finest possible recommendation.'

‘Mr. York,' Archer began.

‘And perhaps a little more than the usual, ah, notice. In fact, if you'd like to stay on here while you look for something else —' He stopped to open the left-hand top desk drawer, frowning, then suddenly smiled a wan, pathetic smile, for even as he reached into the drawer, Archer had spun to the cabinet behind him, opened it, plucked a stack of tissues from a box and placed them on the desk beside the mail — all in the time it took Robert York to restore his reaching hand to the
status quo ante
.

York took two tissues, folded them once and blew his nose hard. ‘Mr. Archer, thank you. You're — you've been a good chap.' It was as if Mahomet had gone to the mountain.

‘Mr. York,' said Tom Archer, at sea level, ‘I should never have spoken to you as I did, and it won't happen again. As for leaving you, I'd rather stay on.'

‘Indeed? Yes. Well.' Robert York's museum features hardly reflected the gratification he felt; but his hand, as if by its own volition, folded another two tissues and brought them to his nose for another sharp, brief blow.