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Updated: June 9, 2025
"Humph!" he grunted, after the fifth puff. "Wellmouth Development Company, eh? You're interested in that, are you?" "Why ah yes, yes. To a certain extent, yes, Mr. Pulcifer." "Humph! What d'you mean, interested? How interested?" "Why, as ah as an investment, you know. As something to put one's money into." "Humph! Was you thinkin' of puttin' some of yours into it?" "Why, not exactly.
He lowered his voice a very little and asked, casually: "Still holding on to your two hundred and fifty shares, are you?" "Why, that was what you told me to do, wasn't it?" "Yes, yes. I believe it was. Humph! Just so, yes. So you've still got those shares?" Martha smiled. "I haven't sold 'em to Raish Pulcifer, if that's what you're hintin' at," she said. He seemed a bit embarrassed.
If there had been no other reason, close proximity to a Raish Pulcifer cigar was, to a sensitive person, sufficient cause for nervousness. Mr. Pulcifer continued to talk and talk and talk, of the weather, of the profits of the summer season just past, of all sorts of trivialities. Mr. Bangs' nervousness increased. He fidgeted in his chair. "Really," he stammered, "I I fear I must be going.
Bangs, the feelin' has been growin' on me that you were probably the wisest man in the world about some things and the most simple and impractical about others. Over there in Egypt you know everything, I do believe. And yet right down here on Cape Cod you need somebody to keep Ras Beebe and Raish Pulcifer from cheatin' you out of your last cent. That's what I thought. 'Mr.
Pulcifer, rubbing his bumped head and puffing from surprise and the exertion of stooping, stared wide-eyed at the speaker. The latter was no one he knew, so much was sure, to begin with. The first impression Raish gained was of an overcoat and a derby hat. Then he caught the glitter of spectacles beneath the hat brim.
"I thank you for the compliment, Captain Hallett," he said, "but my intuition cannot keep pace with Mr. Pulcifer's ah calculations. No, indeed." Jethro pulled his beard. "I asked you," he said, solemnly, "what Raish Pulcifer cal'lated he was doin' buyin' up Development stock? Do you know?" "No. Is he buying it?" "If you ain't heard that he is, you're about the only one in East Wellmouth.
But I wish you would let us know before you sell Pulcifer your holdings. It might I can't say positively, you know but it MIGHT be worth your while." Martha, of course, made no promise, but she thought a good deal during her walk homeward. She told her lodger of the talk with the Trust Company official, and he thought a good deal, also.
The Pulcifer mouth opened and the Pulcifer finger pointed. "Say," commanded Raish. "Say you!" And as this seemed to have little or no effect upon the individual toward whom the finger pointed, he added: "Say, you er What's-your-name Bangs." Galusha, who had been absently playing with his napkin, twisting it into folds and then untwisting it, looked up. "Eh?" he queried. "Oh, yes yes, of course.
Pulcifer leaned forward and gesticulated with the cigar just before his visitor's nose. The visitor leaned backward. "If if you don't mind," he said, desperately, "I really wish you wouldn't." "What?" "Put that thing that cigar quite so near. If you don't mind." Raish withdrew the cigar and looked at it and his companion. "Oh, yes, yes; I see!" he said, after a moment.
His companion's laugh was not enthusiastic. It was as near a groan as a laugh could well be. He put the yellow suitcase down in the mud and looked wearily up and down the fog-draped road. There was little of it to be seen, but that little was not promising. "Dear me!" he exclaimed. "Dear me!" And then added, under his breath: "Oh, dear!" Mr. Pulcifer regarded him intently.
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