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The Cruise of the Jasper B。 



by Don Marquis 







TO ALL THE COPYREADERS ON ALL THE NEWSPAPERS OF AMERICA







CHAPTER I



A BRIGHT BLADE LEAPS FROM A RUSTY SCABBARD



On an evening in April; 191…; Clement J。 Cleggett walked sedately

into the news room of the New York Enterprise with a drab…colored

walking…stick in his hand。  He stood the cane in a corner;

changed his sober street coat for a more sober office jacket;

adjusted a green eyeshade below his primly brushed grayish hair;

unostentatiously sat down at the copy desk; and unobtrusively

opened a drawer。



From the drawer he took a can of tobacco; a pipe; a pair of

scissors; a paste…pot and brush; a pile of copy paper; a penknife

and three half…lengths of lead pencil。



The can of tobacco was not remarkable。  The pipe was not

picturesque。  The scissors were the most ordinary of scissors。 

The copy paper was quite undistinguished in appearance。  The lead

pencils had the most untemperamental looking points。



Cleggett himself; as he filled and lighted the pipe; did it in

the most matter…of…fact sort of way。 Then he remarked to the head

of the copy desk; in an average kind of voice:



〃H'lo; Jim。〃



〃H'lo; Clegg;〃 said Jim; without looking up。 〃Might as well begin

on this bunch of early copy; I guess。〃



For more than ten years Cleggett had done the same thing at the

same time in the same manner; six nights of the week。



What he did on the seventh night no one ever thought to inquire。 

If any member of the Enterprise staff had speculated about it at

all he would have assumed that Cleggett spent that seventh

evening in some way essentially commonplace; sober; unemotional;

quiet; colorless; dull and Brooklynitish。



Cleggett lived in Brooklyn。  The superficial observer might have

said that Cleggett and Brooklyn were made for each other。



The superficial observer!  How many there are of him!  And how

much he misses!  He misses; in fact; everything。



At two o'clock in the morning a telegraph operator approached the

copy desk and handed Cleggett a sheet of yellow paper; with the

remark:



〃Cleggettpersonal wire。〃



It was a night letter; and glancing at the signature Cleggett saw

that it was from his brother who lived in Boston。  It ran:



Uncle Tom died yesterday。  Don't faint now。      

He splits bulk fortune between you and me。      

Lawyers figure nearly 500;000 each。  Mostly      

easily negotiable securities。  New will made      

month ago while sore at president temperance      

outfit。  Blood thicker than Apollinaris after all。      

Poor Uncle Tom。                                                  



   Edward。



Despite Edward's thoughtful warning; Cleggett did nearly faint。 

Nothing could have been less expected。  Uncle Tom was an

irascible prohibitionist; and one of the most deliberately

disobliging men on earth。  Cleggett and his brother had long

ceased to expect anything from him。  For twenty years it had been

thoroughly understood that Uncle Tom would leave his entire

estate to a temperance society。  Cleggett had ceased to think of

Uncle Tom as a possible factor in his life。  He did not doubt

that Uncle Tom had changed the will to gain some point with the

officials of the temperance society; intending to change it once

again after he had been deferred to; cajoled; and flattered

enough to placate his vanity。  But death had stepped in just in

time to disinherit the enemies of the Demon Rum。



Cleggett read the wire through twice; and then folded it and put

it into his pocket。  He rose and walked toward the managing

editor's room。  As he stepped across the floor there was a little

dancing light in his eyes; there was a faint smile upon his lips;

that were quite foreign to the staid and sober Cleggett that the

world knew。  He was quiet; but he was almost jaunty; too; he felt

a little drunk; and enjoyed the feeling。



He opened the managing editor's door with more assurance than he

had ever displayed before。  The managing editor; a pompous; tall;

thin man with a drooping frosty mustache; and cold gray eyes in a

cold gray face that somehow reminded one of the visage of a

walrus; was preparing to go home。



〃Well?〃 he said; shortly。



He was a man for whom Cleggett had long felt a secret antipathy。 

The man was; in short; the petty tyrant of Cleggett's little

world。



〃Can you spare me a couple of minutes; Mr。 Wharton?〃 said

Cleggett。  But he did not say it with the air of a person who

really sues for a hearing。



〃Yes; yesgo on。〃  Mr。 Wharton; who had risen from his chair;

sat down again。  He was distinctly annoyed。  He was ungracious。 

He was usually ungracious with Cleggett。  His face set itself in

the expression it always took when he declined to consider

raising a man's salary。  Cleggett; who had been refused a raise

regularly every three months for the past two years; was familiar

with the look。



〃Go on; go onwhat is it?〃 asked Mr。 Wharton unpleasantly;

frowning and stroking the frosty mustache; first one side and

then the other。



〃I just stepped in to tell you;〃 said Cleggett quietly; 〃that I

don't think much of the way you are running the Enterprise。〃



Wharton stopped stroking his mustache so quickly and so amazedly

that one might have thought he had run into a thorn amongst the

hirsute growth and pricked a finger。  He glared。 He opened his

mouth。  But before he could speak Cleggett went on:



〃Three years ago I made a number of suggestions to you。  You

treated me contemptuouslyvery contemptuously!〃



Cleggett paused and drew a long breath; and his face became quite

red。  It was as if the anger in which he could not afford to

indulge himself three years before was now working in him with

cumulative effect。  Wharton; only partially recovered from the

shock of Cleggett's sudden arraignment; began to stammer and

bluster; using the words nearest his tongue:



〃You d…damned im…p…pertinent〃



〃Just a moment;〃 Cleggett interrupted; growing visibly angrier;

and seeming to enjoy his anger more and more。  〃Just a word more。



I had intended to conclude my remarks by telling you that my

contempt for YOU; personally; is unbounded。  It is boundless;

sir!  But since you have sworn at me; I am forced to conclude

this interview in another fashion。〃



And with a gesture which was not devoid of dignity Cleggett drew

from an upper waistcoat pocket a card and flung it on Wharton's

desk。  After which he stepped back and made a formal bow。



Wharton looked at the card。  Bewilderment almost chased the anger

from his face。



〃Eh;〃 he said; 〃what's this?〃



〃My card; sir!  A friend will wait on you tomorrow!〃



〃Tomorrow?  A friend?  What for?〃



Cleggett folded his arms and regarded the managing editor with a

touch of the supercilious in his manner。



〃If you were a gentleman;〃 he said; 〃you would have no difficulty

in understanding these things。  I have just done you the honor of

challenging you to a duel。〃



Mr。 Wharton's mouth opened as if he were about to explode in a

roar of incredulous laughter。  But meeting Cleggett's eyes; which

were; indeed; sparkling with a most remarkable light; his jaw

dropped; and he turned slightly pale。  He rose from his chair and

put the desk between himself and Cleggett; picking up as he did

so a long pair of shears。



〃Put down the scissors;〃 said Cleggett; with a wave of his hand。 

〃I do not propose to attack you now。〃



And he turned and left the managing editor's little office;

closing the door behind him。



The managing editor tiptoed over to the door and; with the

scissors still grasped in one hand; opened it about a quarter of

an inch。  Through this crack Wharton saw Cleggett walk jauntily

towards the corner where his hat and coat were hanging。 Cleggett

took off his worn office jacket; rolled it into a ball; and flung

it into a w

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