“Were there any others mentioned in your uncle’s will?” asked Old Bryson.
“None.” said Gillian. “There is a Miss Hayden. My uncle was responsible for her. She lived in his house.
She’s a quiet thing …musical …the daughter of somebody who was unlucky enough to be his friend.
“I forgot to say that she was in on the ring and $10 joke, too. I wish I had been.
Then I could have had two bottles of wine, given the ring to the waiter and had the whole business off my hands.
Now tell me what a man can do with $1,000.”
Old Bryson rubbed his glasses and smiled. And when Old Bryson smiled, Gillian knew that he intended to be more offensive than ever.
“There are many good things a man could do with $1,000,” said Bryson.
“You?” he said with a gentle laugh. “Why, Bobby Gillian, there’s only one reasonable thing you could do.
You can go and buy Miss Lotta Lauriere a diamond necklace with the money and then take yourself off to Idaho and inflict your presence upon a ranch.
I advise a sheep ranch, as I have a particular dislike for sheep.”
“Thanks,” said Gillian as he rose from his chair. “I knew I could depend on you, Old Bryson. You’ve hit on the very idea.
I wanted to spend the money on one thing, because I have to turn in a report for it, and I hate itemizing.”
Gillian phoned for a cab and said to the driver: “The stage entrance of the Columbine Theatre.”
The theater was crowded. Miss Lotta Lauriere was preparing for her performance when her assistant spoke the name of Mr. Gillian.
“Let it in,” said Miss Lauriere. “Now, what is it, Bobby? I’m going on stage in two minutes.”
“It won’t take two minutes for me. What do you say to a little thing in the jewelry line? I can spend $1,000.”
“Say, Bobby,” said Miss Lauriere, “Did you see that necklace Della Stacey had on the other night? It cost $2,200 at Tiffany’s.”
Miss Lauriere was called to the stage for her performance.
Gillian slowly walked out to where his cab was waiting.
“What would you do with $1,000, if you had it?” he asked the driver.
“I’d open a drinking place,” said the driver, quickly.
“I know a place I could take money in with both hands. I’ve got it worked out — if you were thinking of putting up the money.”
“Oh, no,” said Gillian. “I was just wondering.”
Eight blocks down Broadway, Gillian got out of the cab.
A blind man sat on the sidewalk selling pencils. Gillian went out and stood in front of him.