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Financial Engineering Explained
Series Editor
Wim Schoutens
Department of Mathematics
Katholieke Universiteit Leuven
Heverlee, Belgium
Financial Engineering Explained is a series of concise, practical guides
to modern finance, focusing on key, technical areas of risk management
and asset pricing. Written for practitioners, researchers and students,
the series discusses a range of topics in a non-mathematical but highly
intuitive way. Each self-contained volume is dedicated to a specific topic
and offers a thorough introduction with all the necessary depth, but
without too much technical ballast. Where applicable, theory is illus-
trated with real world examples, with special attention to the numerical
implementation.
Numerical Partial
Differential Equations
in Finance Explained
An Introduction to Computational Finance
Karel in ’t Hout
Department of Mathematics and
Computer Science
University of Antwerp
Antwerp
Belgium
A few years after Black and Scholes [5] derived their famous par-
tial differential equation (PDE) for the fair values of European call
and put options, Schwartz [78] considered a finite difference discret-
ization for its approximate solution. Today, the numerical solution
of time-dependent PDEs forms one of the pillars of computational
finance. Efficient, accurate and stable numerical methods are imper-
ative for financial institutions and companies worldwide. Extensive
research is performed, both in academia and industry, into their devel-
opment, analysis and application. This book is intended as a concise,
gentle introduction into this interesting and dynamic field. Its aim is
to provide students and practitioners with an easily accessible, prac-
tical text explaining main concepts, models, methods and results. The
text is organized through a sequence of short chapters. The style is
more descriptive than (mathematically) rigorous. Numerous examples
and numerical experiments are given to illustrate results. Only some
elementary knowledge of mathematics, notably calculus and linear
algebra, is assumed.
The numerical solution processes in this book are obtained fol-
lowing the popular method of lines (MOL) approach. Here a given
time-dependent PDE is semidiscretized on a grid by finite difference
formulas, which yields a large system of ordinary differential equa-
tions (ODEs). Subsequently, a suitable temporal discretization method
is applied, which defines the full discretization.
Chapters 1 and 2 introduce financial option valuation and partial dif-
ferential equations. Next, the MOL approach is elaborated in Chapters
3–8. Much attention is paid to studying stability and convergence of
v
vi Preface
vii
viii Contents
Figure 1.1 Payoff functions for call and put options on [0, 3K] ............... 4
Figure 1.2 Exact call and put option value functions on [0, 3K]
for t = T and parameter set (1.8) ....................................... 7
Figure 3.1 Sample grid in the (s, t)-domain, indicated by circles .............. 16
Figure 3.2 Geometric interpretation of the finite difference
formulas (3.3), (3.7), (3.10) for the first derivative f (s) .......... 17
Figure 4.1 Mapping ϕ defined in Example 4.2.1 .................................. 30
Figure 5.1 Spatial error εi (m) versus si for m = 50 (top) and
m = 51 (bottom). Semidiscretization on uniform
grid by second-order central formulas. No cell averaging ........ 39
Figure 5.2 Spatial error e(m) versus 1/m for all 10 ≤ m ≤ 100.
Semidiscretization on uniform grid by second-order
central formulas. No cell averaging .................................... 40
Figure 5.3 Spatial error e(m) versus 1/m for all 10 ≤ m ≤ 100.
Semidiscretization on uniform grid by second-order
central formulas. With cell averaging .................................. 40
Figure 5.4 Spatial grid points corresponding to Example 4.2.1
if m = 50 ...................................................................... 41
Figure 5.5 Spatial error e(m) versus 1/m for all 10 ≤ m ≤ 100.
Semidiscretization on nonuniform grid by
second-order central formulas. Formula A for
convection: bullets. Formula B for convection:
squares. With cell averaging ............................................. 42
Figure 5.6 Spatial errors e(m) (dark squares) and eROI (m)
(light squares) versus 1/m for 100 ≤ m ≤ 1000.
Semidiscretization on nonuniform grid by
second-order central formulas. Formula B for
convection. Linear boundary condition at s = Smax .
With cell averaging ........................................................ 43
xi
xii List of Figures
Figure 6.1 Greeks for a call option for t = T and parameter set (1.8) ........ 46
Figure 6.2 Delta spatial error ed (m) versus 1/m for all
10 ≤ m ≤ 100. Semidiscretization by second-order
central formulas. Formula B for convection. With
cell averaging. Uniform grid: bullets. Nonuniform
grid: squares ................................................................. 48
Figure 6.3 Gamma spatial error eg (m) versus 1/m for all
10 ≤ m ≤ 100. Semidiscretization by second-order
central formulas. Formula B for convection. With
cell averaging. Uniform grid: bullets. Nonuniform
grid: squares ................................................................. 49
Figure 6.4 Vega spatial error ev (m) versus 1/m for all
10 ≤ m ≤ 100. Semidiscretization by second-order
central formulas. Formula B for convection. With
cell averaging. Uniform grid: bullets. Nonuniform
grid: squares ................................................................. 49
Figure 6.5 Rho spatial error er (m) versus 1/m for all
10 ≤ m ≤ 100. Semidiscretization by second-order
central formulas. Formula B for convection. With
cell averaging. Uniform grid: bullets. Nonuniform
grid: squares ................................................................. 50
Figure 7.1 Stability region θ -method with θ = 0 (shaded) ...................... 54
Figure 7.2 Stability region θ -method with θ = 12 (shaded) ...................... 55
Figure 7.3 Stability region θ -method with θ = 1 (shaded) ...................... 55
Figure 8.1 Fully discrete approximation of call option value
function for t = T obtained with the forward Euler
method if N = 75 (top) and N = 80 (bottom) ........................ 62
Figure 8.2 Temporal error e(t;50) versus t for all
1 ≤ N ≤ 100. Backward Euler (dark bullets),
Crank–Nicolson (light squares), Crank–Nicolson
with damping (dark squares) ............................................ 64
Figure 8.3 Temporal error e(t;200) versus t for all
1 ≤ N ≤ 100. Backward Euler (dark bullets),
Crank–Nicolson (light squares), Crank–Nicolson
with damping (dark squares) ............................................ 65
Figure 8.4 Total error E(t;m) versus 1/m with N = m/5
for 10 ≤ m ≤ 1000. Backward Euler (dark bullets),
Crank–Nicolson (light squares), Crank–Nicolson
with damping (dark squares) ............................................ 67
Figure 9.1 Exact cash-or-nothing call option value function on
[0, 3K] × [0, T] with parameter set (9.2) .............................. 70
Figure 9.2 Cash-or-nothing call option with parameter set
(9.2). Total error EROI (t;m) versus 1/m with
N = m/5 for 10 ≤ m ≤ 1000. Crank–Nicolson
method. Cell averaging without damping (dark
List of Figures xiii
Notice that the holder has the right to exercise, but not the obligation.
Hence, the appropriate term “option”. The prescribed price in the op-
tion contract is called the strike price or exercise price and shall be
denoted by K. The prescribed time in the contract is called the matur-
ity time or expiration time and shall be denoted by T. By convention,
the time of inception of the option is set equal to zero and shall be
called today.
The above definition encompasses two basic option types: a call
option, which gives the holder the right to buy the asset, and a put
option, which gives the holder the right to sell the asset.
Example 1.1.1
Consider company A, working in euros (EUR) and producing
certain high-tech machines. Company B, working in US dol-
lars (USD), places an order today with company A for such
a machine to be delivered in exactly one year from now for
the price of one million USD. Since the actual USD–EUR ex-
change rate (the value of 1 USD in terms of EUR) in one
year’s time is unknown, company A faces financial risk in this
deal. It can decide to accept this. Alternatively, it can hedge
this risk by acquiring, for example from a bank, a put option
which gives the right to sell one million USD with maturity
time T = 1 year and a certain preferred USD–EUR exchange
rate K. Thus company A has locked in a minimal amount of
EUR, namely K million, that will be received in one year’s
time. The value of K is usually chosen close to or equal to
today’s exchange rate.
valuation are Bachelier [3], Black and Scholes [5] and Merton [62]. In
their celebrated work, Black and Scholes [5] succeeded in answering
the above question, under a number of assumptions, for call and put
options.
Call option
2K
0
0 K 2K 3K
s
Put option
2K
0
0 K 2K 3K
s
Figure 1.1 Payoff functions for call and put options on [0, 3K]
D(τ ) = D0 erτ .
∂u ∂ 2u ∂u
(s, t) = 12 σ 2 s2 2 (s, t) + rs (s, t) – ru(s, t) (1.3)
∂t ∂s ∂s
for s > 0 and 0 < t ≤ T. Here ∂u/∂t denotes the first-order partial deriv-
ative, in the mathematical sense, of u with respect to the independent
variable t and ∂u/∂s, ∂ 2 u/∂s2 denote the first- and second-order partial
derivatives, respectively, of u with respect to the independent variable
s. The simple change of variable from time τ to time-till-maturity t has
been done to obtain a formulation that is slightly more convenient.
Equation (1.3) is called the Black–Scholes partial differential equa-
tion (PDE). This seminal result was established in [5, 62] in 1973.
Modern texts including derivations of (1.3) are for example [47, 66, 80,
90]. In the following we discuss several observations and subsequent
results related to the Black–Scholes PDE.
First notice that the function u yields the fair option value for any
possible asset price at any given time that the option is in existence. It
can be shown that if the market price is not the fair value, then there
is an arbitrage opportunity.
As a next observation, the drift rate μ from the asset price process
(1.2) does not appear in the Black–Scholes PDE. This is an equally
surprising and fundamental result, which has led to the important so-
called risk-neutral option valuation theory. It is beyond the scope of
this book to discuss this topic, but see for example the books cited
above.
6 Numerical Partial Differential Equations in Finance Explained
The second one follows from the fact that if the asset price is ever
zero, then by the geometric Brownian motion (1.2) it remains zero
until maturity. Hence, the fair value at maturity of a call option is equal
to zero and of a put option equal to K. By the no-arbitrage assumption,
these values are discounted with the risk-free interest rate r to any
given time τ = T – t, yielding the boundary condition
0 for 0 ≤ t ≤ T (call),
u(0, t) = (1.5)
e–rt K for 0 ≤ t ≤ T (put).
ln (s/K) + (r + 12 σ 2 )t √
d1 = √ , d2 = d1 – σ t, (1.6c)
σ t
y 1
1 2
N (y) = √ e– 2 x dx (y ∈ R).
2π –∞
There is a neat relation, the put-call parity, which links the fair put
and call option values on the same underlying for the same strike K
and maturity T:
Call option
2K
0
0 K 2K 3K
s
Put option
2K
0
0 K 2K 3K
s
Figure 1.2 Exact call and put option value functions on [0, 3K] for t = T and
parameter set (1.8)
8 Numerical Partial Differential Equations in Finance Explained
As an illustration, Figure 1.2 displays the graphs of the call and put
option value functions given by the Black–Scholes formula (1.6) on
[0, 3K] for t = T and parameters
∂u ∂ 2u ∂u
(s, t) = d(s) 2 (s, t) + c(s) (s, t) – r(s)u(s, t) (2.1)
∂t ∂s ∂s
for Smin < s < Smax and 0 < t ≤ T. Here Smin , Smax are given real
values or ±∞ and c, d, r denote given real-valued functions where d
is always assumed to be nonnegative. The real-valued function u is the
unknown.
Most of the PDEs that arise in contemporary financial option valu-
ation theory are of the convection-diffusion-reaction kind. Clearly the
choice
yields the Black–Scholes PDE (1.3). Further, one has Smin = 0 and
Smax = ∞ for standard call and put options.
In the literature, often an alternative notation by means of subscripts
is used for the partial derivatives of a function. This gives a slightly
For any given fixed t, the graph of u(·, t) is a shift of the graph of the
initial function u0 with –ct units. If c > 0 then the shift is to the left,
whereas if c < 0 then it is to the right. When s is interpreted as spatial
position and t as time, then –c represents velocity.
∞
u(s, t) = p(s – x, t)u0 (x)dx. (2.4)
–∞
12 Numerical Partial Differential Equations in Finance Explained
Smax – e–rt K for 0 ≤ t ≤ T (call),
u(Smax , t) = (2.5)
0 for 0 ≤ t ≤ T (put),
1 for 0 ≤ t ≤ T (call),
us (Smax , t) = (2.6)
0 for 0 ≤ t ≤ T (put).
The two conditions (2.5), (2.6) are visually in accordance with the
graphs of u in Figure 1.2 whenever Smax is sufficiently large. These con-
ditions only provide approximations, however, to the actual option
2 Partial Differential Equations 13
value function and its first derivative to s. But by taking Smax suffi-
ciently large, the approximation error can be made arbitrarily small.
The conditions (2.5), (2.6) have a natural financial interpretation.
Consider for example a put. If the asset price is ever large relative to
the strike, then it is very likely to remain large until maturity and a
put option will be worthless. This explains the homogeneous (that is,
zero) condition in (2.5). Further, a small change in the asset price will
have essentially no influence on the put option value, yielding the ho-
mogeneous condition in (2.6). These arguments remain valid for many
other asset price processes than the geometric Brownian motion. Thus
(2.5) and (2.6) are generic in this sense.
For exotic options, deducing accurate Dirichlet or Neumann con-
ditions at the truncated boundaries can be a difficult task. A popular
alternative is to impose the linear boundary condition,
This is also called the zero gamma condition (compare Chapter 6).
Clearly, (2.7) states that the second derivative of the option value to s
vanishes at s = Smax . This represents a linear dependence of the option
value on the underlying asset price and holds for a broad variety of fin-
ancial options whenever Smax is sufficiently large. Figure 1.2 illustrates
this for call and put options.
The actual choice of the truncated domain is often done heuristic-
ally in practice. It should be large enough such that the approximation
errors at the truncated boundaries have a negligible effect on the op-
tion values in the region of interest (ROI). The latter is a subdomain
of underlying asset prices S0 = s that is of actual, practical interest.
For example, for call and put options, a possible region of interest
is 12 K < s < 32 K. A common choice for Smax in the Black–Scholes
framework is then
1 √
Smax = se(r– 2 σ
2 )T+ασ T
(2.8)
H. C. WITWER
FOREWORD
MONEY TO BURNS[6]
By H. C. WITWER
"When fortune favors a man too much, she makes him a fool!"
Neither Napoleon, Nero, Alexander, Jack Johnson, Mark Antony
nor Bill Hohenzollern was the composer of that remark, though,
honest, I bet they all thought it about the time the world was giving
them the air. However, the boy who originally pulled the above wise
crack was Mr. Publius Syrus, a master mind current in dear old Syria
during the fiscal year of 77 B.C. Two thousand annums after Publius
gave up the struggle, Jimmy Burns, a professional bellhop—age,
twenty; color, white; nationality, Broadway-American—decided to
find out for himself whether or not Pubby's statement was true. It is!
Loll back in the old easy chair for about approximately a half-hour
and I'll do my stuff. Perhaps you don't know me, as Eve coyly
remarked to Adam, so taking advantage of your good nature I'll
introduce myself. I'm Gladys Murgatroyd, a switchboard operator at
the Hotel St. Moe. I was slipped into the cradle under the name of
Mary Ellen Johnson, but as that smacks more of the kitchen than the
drawing-room, I changed that label some time ago to the Gladys
Murgatroyd thing, which I admit sounds phony—still, I'm a phone
girl, so what could be sweeter?
However, one morning during a slight lull in the daily hostilities
between me and the number-seeking guests, I am reading my
favorite book—the Morning Squawk, the newspaper that made the
expression "It is alleged" famous, or maybe it was the other way
around. Spattered all over the front page is a highly sensational
account of the latest adventures of one of these modern prodigal
sons—in round numbers, Carlton Van Ryker, whose father celebrated
his ninety-fifth birthday by entering a tomb in a horizontal position
and leaving his only progeny two paltry $500,000 bank notes. The
young millionaire with the name like a Pullman car and a soft collar
had been stepping high, wide and fast with his pennies and at the
time of going to press was the plot of an "alienation of my wife's
affections" suit, a badly mismanaged shooting affair, and various
other things that would keep his mind off the weather for quite a
spell. While I'm drinking all this in with my lustrous orbs, along
comes Mons. James Joseph Aloysius Burns, who was either the hero
of this episode in my exciting career, or else he wasn't.
Although I've known Jimmy Burns for the worst part of two years,
we're still good friends, both of us being refugees from the land of
Utah. My home town was the metropolis of Bountiful, where I once
won a beauty contest single-handed, and James fled from Salt Lake
City, where smoking cigarettes is the same as throwing rocks at the
President, in the eyes of the genial authorities.
But to get to the business of the meeting—Jimmy sported a
sarcastical sneer as he approached my switchboard on this particular
morning.
"Kin you feature a cuckoo like this dizzy Van Ryker havin' all that
sugar," he snorts, nodding angrily at the newspaper, "whilst us
regular white folks is got to slave like Uncle Tom or we don't eat? Is
that fair?"
"Cheer up, Jimmy," I says with a smile. "We don't get much
money, that's a fact, but then we can laugh out loud. That's more
than Van Ryker can do! Look at the pushing around he's getting
because he hauled oil and inherited a million, poor fellow; he——"
"That mug was ru'ned by too much jack!" butts in Jimmy. "He's
what you call a weak sister. He wasn't built to handle important
money—you got to be born that way! Knowin' how to spend money
is a gift. I got the gift, but I ain't got the money!"
"And you never will have the money, frittering away your life
hopping bells in a hotel, Jamesy—not to give you a short answer," I
says. "When they assembled you they left out the motor—ambition!"
"Blah!" says Jimmy courteously. "That's what you think. I got
plenty ambition. My ambition is to wake up every morning for the
rest of my life with a twenty-dollar bill in my kick! Believe me, Cutey,
I often wish I was a Wall Street bond messenger, a bootlegger or
even a professional reformer—but I ain't never had a shot at no big
dough like that. Why, if it was rainin' tomato bouillon, I'd be there
with a knife instead of a spoon!"
"As if that would stop you!" I remark sweetly. I once saw James
eat. "It seems to me you're always craving excitement," I went on,
dealing out some wrong numbers. "Only last week you told me you
had a massage."
"Go ahead and kid me," says Jimmy. "You should bite your nails—
you're a woman, a good looker with more curves than a scenic
railway, and they ain't no way you kin lose! But it's different here. It
seems to me I beep workin' for a livin' since the doc says 'It's a boy!'
and the chances is I'll be workin' for a livin' till the doc says 'Get the
embalmer'!"
Don't you love that?
"Why don't you check out of the bell-hopping game and try your
luck at something with a future in it?" I ask him, though, really, I'm
about as interested in Jimmy's biography as I am in the election
returns at Tokyo. "If I was a man, this town wouldn't have me
licked!"
"Apple sauce!" sneers Jimmy politely. "A guy without money has
got the same chance in New York as a ferryboat salesman would
have on the Sara Desert. It takes jack to make jack. With a bank roll
I could make my name as well known as Jonah's, and I'd spot him
his whale!"
"What do you do with your nickels?" I ask him. "I don't doubt that
Chaplin and Fairbanks get more wages than you bellboys, but I
thought your tips ran into better figures than they have in the
Follies."
"Say, cutey, be yourself!" says James scornfully. "Most of the eggs
in this trap is as tight as the skin on a grape—they wouldn't give a
thin dime to see Tut-ankh-Amen walk up Fifth Avenoo on his hands!
I could be railroaded to Sing Sing for what I think of them babies.
Why should I have to carry suitcases and hustle ice water for a lot of
monkeys like that?"
"Don't put on dog, Jimmy," I smile. "The guests of the St. Moe
are every bit as good as you are, even if you are a haughty bellhop
and they are lowly millionaires. Suppose you had a million, what
would you do with it?"
"Well," says Jimmy thoughtfully, "the first thing I'd do wouldst be
to get me a education—not that I'm no dumb Isaac by no means,
but they's a few lessons like algeometry, matriculation, mock
geography and the like which I could use. I wouldn't get all tangled
up with no wild women or pull none of the raw stuff which this Van
Ryker jobbie done, that's a cinch! They'd be no horseplay what the
so ever, as far as I was concerned. What I'd do wouldst be to crash
into some business, make my pile and my name and not do no
playin' around till I was about fifty and independent for life. Ain't it a
crime when I got them kind of intentions to make good and no
nonsense about it, that somebody don't slip me a million?"
"It's an outrage, Jimmy," I agree, allowing a giggle to break jail.
"Still, all men are born equal and if it's actually possible that you
haven't got a million, why, you must have thrown your chances
away. When Eddie Windsor was your age, for instance, he had made
himself Prince of Wales!"
"Me and him begin life in a different type of cradle!" says Jimmy.
"And that stuff about everybody bein' equal when they're born is the
oyster's ice skates. The only way me and them wealthy millionaires
was even at birth is that we was all babies!"
This debate between me and Jimmy was about like Adam and a
monkey arguing over which of 'em was our first ancestor—we could
have found plenty of people to side with both of us. Then again, the
customers was beginning to snap into it for the day and craved the
voice with the smile. I got as busy at the switchboard as a custard
pie salesman on a movie comedy lot, so I gave the money-mad
James the air for the time being.
A couple of weeks later, or maybe it was a jolly old fortnight, Hon.
Guy Austin Tower returns from a voyage to Europe, and then the fun
began! Maybe you all haven't had the unusual pleasure of meeting
my boy friend, so with your kind permission I'll introduce him.
This handsome young metropolitan sheik is a millionaire of the
first water, a full-blooded playwright, one of my wildest admirers,
and a guest at the Hotel St. Moe. Guy would be a face card in any
deck—he's a real fellow, no fooling. Even the parboiled Jimmy Burns,
who thinks everybody guilty till proved innocent, is one of Guy's
fans. Guy just sprays Jimmy and the rest of the hired help with
princely tips and doesn't dime them to death, as most of the other
inmates do.
Like Carlton Van Ryker, Guy was left about everything but Lake
Michigan when his male parent entered the obituary column, but
unlike Van Ryker, Guy didn't let his millions make him a clown. He
wanted to carve his own way on our popular planet, so he simply
forgot about his warehouse full of doubloons and took up the trade
of writing plays. As he's got two frolics running on Broadway now,
you could hardly call him a bust.
Well, when Guy came back from overseas he got a welcome from
the St. Moe staff that would have tickled a political boss. Honestly,
he brought something back for everybody! What he brought back for
me was some perfectly gorgeous Venetian lace and his sixty-fifth
request that I renounce the frivolous pleasures of the telephone
switchboard and enter matrimony.
I accepted the lace, which drove my girl friend, Hazel Killian, wild
with envy, but on the wedding bells I claimed exemption. I like Guy,
but I'm by no means in love with him—or with anyone else! From
what I've been able to observe on my perch at the St. Moe
switchboard, there's a bit too much "moan" in matrimony, and,
really, I get no more thrill out of contemplating marriage than Noah
would get out of contemplating Niagara Falls. I've seen too much of
it! I do get a kick, though, out of my daily struggle to remain a
campfire girl and still keep from dying of too little fun. The swarming
lobby of any costly Gotham hotel is the favorite hunting grounds of
snips that pass in the night, always looking for the best of it—lounge
lizards, synthetic sheiks of all ages and others too humorous to
mention. Any young, well dressed member of my much advertised
sex who doesn't resemble a gorilla is their legitimate prey, and trying
to discourage 'em is like trying to discourage the anti-drys. But I got
their number—being a phone girl, that's my job, isn't it? I meet five
hundred representatives of the sillier sex every day, and it's a hobby
of mine to treat 'em all with equal chilly politeness till they get out of
line. Then I turn off the politeness, just giving 'em the chill, and
honest, when I want to be cold—which is generally—I'd turn a four-
alarm fire into an iceberg with a glance!
However, there are a lot of yawns connected with plugging a
telephone switchboard day by day in every way, and now and then a
male will come along sufficiently interesting for little Gladys to
accept temporarily as an accomplice in the assassination of time.
Dinners, dances, theaters, this and that—nothing my mother and
I couldn't laugh over, so don't curl your lip!
Well, Guy Tower hadn't been back in the St. Moe a week when he
began showering attentions on me from the point where he left off
before he sailed away. Honestly, he dinnered and theatered me silly!
Hazel Killian watched me carelessly toy with this good-looking young
gold mine with unconcealed feelings of covetousness. She simply
couldn't understand why I didn't grab this boon from Heaven and
marry him while he was stupefied with my charms. Hazel, who is an
artists' model and no eyesore herself, is suffering from a lifelong
ambition to become a bird in a gilded cage. She craves a millionaire,
and in desperation she offered to match coins with me for Guy, but I
indignantly refused. I know Hazel—she's a dear, but she'd have
Rockefeller penniless in a month and every shop on Fifth Avenue
sporting a "Closed to Restock" sign. She's just a pretty baby who
loves to go buy and she makes 'em give till it hurts, don't think she
doesn't!
Another person who got upset over Guy's inability to keep away
from me was Jerry Murphy, house sleuth at the St. Moe. Jerry's so
big that if he had numbers on him he'd look like a box car, and he's
just another male I can get all dizzied up with a properly
manipulated eye and smile. Really, he's not a bad fellow, but as a
detective he's a blank cartridge. He couldn't catch pneumonia if it
was against the law not to have it. Jerry don't know what it's all
about and never will, because he's too thick between the ears to ask
and nobody will tell him. He hangs around my switchboard like a
hungry collie around a kitchen and he's just as eager; but I'm not
collecting losers, so Jerry's meaningless to me. My bounding around
with Guy fills Jerry with pain and alarm and he keeps me supplied
with laughs by constantly warning me of the pitfalls and temptations
that surround a little telephone girl who steps out with a millionaire.
"If 'at big mock orange makes one out-of-the-way crack to you,
cutey, just tip me off and I'll ruin him!" says Jerry with a menacing
growl. "I can't cuddle up to the idea of you goin' out with him all the
time. Don't let him go to work and lure you somewheres away from
easy callin' distance of help!"
"Cut yourself a piece of cake!" I says. "Mister Tower is a perfect
gentleman, Jerry, and it would be impossible for him to act like
anything else if he and I were alone on an island in the middle of the
Pacific."
"Say, listen, cutey,'" says Jerry, wincing, "don't mention 'at alone-
on-a-island stuff in my presence! 'At's what I been dreamin' about
me and you for a year. If we ever get on a ship together, I'll wreck it
as sure as you're born!"
Now, isn't he a scream?
Well, at one of our dinner dates about a month after his return,
Guy shows up haggard and wan and apparently all in. Generally a
fellow who couldn't do enough for his stomach, he ordered this night
with the enthusiasm of a steak fiend week-ending at a vegetarian
friend's. When the nourishment arrived, Guy just dallied and toyed
with it. Afterwards we favored the dance floor with a visit, and
instead of tripping his usual wicked ballroom he acted like he had an
anvil in each of his pumps. A dozen times during the evening he had
to tap back a yawn, and really I began to get steamed up. I'm not
used to seeing my boy friends pass out on me!
"I hope I'm not keeping you awake, Mr. Tower," I remarked
frigidly as we returned to our table and the nineteenth yawn slipped
right through his fingers, in spite of his well meant attempt to push
it back.
"Forgive me!" says Guy quickly, and a flush brings some color to
his face for the first time that night. "I—the fact is, Gladys, I don't
believe I've had a dozen hours' sleep in the past week!"
"Then you've been cheating," I smile, "for you've always left me
around midnight. Is she a blonde or a brunette, or have you
noticed?"
Guy laughs and, leaning over, pats my hand.
"As if I would ever notice any girl but you!" he says, getting
daringly original. "Oh, it isn't a girl, Gladys—though there is a
woman at the bottom of the thing, at that. I'll explain that
paradoxical statement. Rosenblum wants my next play to open his
new Thalia Theater, which will be completed within two months—
and I haven't the ghost of an idea, not the semblance of a plot! I've
paced the floor like a caged animal, smoking countless cigarettes
and drinking oceans of black coffee. I've written steadily for hours at
a stretch and then torn the whole business up in disgust. That's
what's kept me awake at night—that and my daily battles with this
infernal Rosenblum!"
"How come?" I ask him in surprise. "I don't see the percentage in
battling with the man who puts your plays on Broadway, Guy."
"He wants me to write a risqué farce, one of those loathsome—er
—pardon me—bedroom things for Yvette D'Lys," says Guy angrily,
"and I ab-so-lute-ly will not do it! I refuse to prostitute my art for
the sordid box office! I——"
"Hold everything!" I butt in. "Shakespeare wasn't below writing
bedroom farces, and I think even you'll admit that he got some
favorable mention as a playwright."
"Shakespeare write a bedroom farce!" gasps Guy. "Why, my dear
girl, you—which of his marvelous plays could you possibly twist into
that?"
"Othello," I says promptly. "In act five they clown all over the
boudoir! You should go to the theater oftener."
For a second Guy looks puzzled, then he grins and the lines
around his navy-blue eyes relax.
"You are delightful," he says. "If I cannot get mental stimulus
from you, then I am indeed uninspired! Nevertheless, I am not going
to do as Rosenblum requests. I have never written anything
salacious or even suggestive, and I never will! Furthermore, I don't
believe Miss D'Lys or any actress likes to play that kind of a part. It
is managers of the Rosenblum type that force those rôles on them—
callous, dollar-grabbing, cynical pessimists, who take it for granted
that all women are bad!"
"Any man who takes it for granted that all women are bad is no
pessimist, Guy," I says thoughtfully. "He's an optimist!"
"Great!" says Guy, slapping the table with his hand. "May I use
that epigram in my play?"
"I'll loan it to you," I tell him. "If I break out with the writing rash
myself some day, I'll want it back. And now let me hear some of the
ideas you tore up in disgust—maybe one of them is the real McCoy.
Trot 'em out and I'll give you my honest opinion."
Well, he did and I did. Guy rattled off a half-dozen plots, which
failed to thicken and merely sickened. Honestly, they had everything
in 'em but the Battle of Gettysburg, and really they were fearful—
about as new and exciting as a beef stew, which is just what I told
him, being a truthful girl.
Guy sighs and looks desperate.
"Gladys," he says, "I simply must have a play ready to open the
Thalia in less than eight weeks! You know that my interest in
playwriting is anything but mercenary—good heavens, I have more
money than I know what to do with. What I want is to see my name
on another Broadway success, and I'm absolutely barren of ideas!
I've simply struck a dry spell, such as all writers do, occasionally. At
this moment I'd give twenty-five thousand dollars for an original
plot!"
I drew a deep breath and stared at him.
"Don't kid about that kind of money, Guy," I says solemnly. "And—
don't tempt me!"
"I never was more serious in my life!" he quickly assures me.
"Why, have you an idea? By Jove, Gladys, if you if have—you are the
goddess from the machine——"
"Be of good cheer," I interrupt. "I'll go home and sleep over
matters, which is what you better do, too—you look like you fell out
of a well or something, really! I'll see you tomorrow. I don't think I'll
have a plot for you by then, but——"
"Naturally—still, if you even have a suggestion that I might use,"
says Guy eagerly, "I——"
"I say I don't think I'll have a plot by then, I know I'll have one!" I
finish.
And I did, really!
When I got home that night I went right to bed, but somehow Mr.
Slumber and me couldn't seem to come to terms. My brain just
refused to call it a union day but kept mulling over Guy and his
magnanimous offer of twenty-five thousand lire for a plot. Good
heavens, he could buy a plot with a house and barn on it for that!
Then my half-sleepy mind turns to Jimmy Burns, the gloomy bellhop,
whose deathless ambition is to corral a fortune and dumfound
Europe with his progress from then on! Suddenly these two trains of
thought collide with a crash and out of the wreck comes an idea that
I think will make Jimmy Burns famous and give Guy Tower his play!
That trifling matter being all settled, I turned over and slept the
sleep of the just.
The very next evening I propositioned Guy, who listened with
flattering attention. After telling him I had his play all set, I furnished
him with a short but interesting description of the life, habits and
desires of James Joseph Aloysius Burns. I then proposed that Guy
place his twenty-five thousand to the bellboy's credit for one month,
James to be allowed free rein with the jack. If Burns has increased
the amount at the end of thirty days, he is to return the original
twenty-five thousand to Guy. If not, he must give back whatever
amount he has left. All the principals are to be sworn to secrecy and
that's all there is to my scheme—it's as simple as the recipe for hot
chocolate!
"If Jimmy Burns is really miscast in life and has a brain and
business ability far above hopping bells," I explain, "why, the use of
twenty-five thousand for thirty days might make him one of the
world's most famous men! It's a sporting chance, Guy—will you
gamble?"
Guy looks somewhat perplexed. He stares into my excited face
and clears his throat nervously.
"Well—I—of course, I am interested in anything you suggest,
Gladys," he says. "I—eh—suppose I am unusually stupid this
evening, but I cannot see how my dowering this bellboy will assist
me in writing my play."
"Listen," I says. "You claimed you'd put out twenty-five thousand
for a plot, didn't you? Well, believe me, the movements of Jimmy
Burns with twenty-five thousand dollars to do what he wants with
will supply all the ideas you can handle—if you don't think so, you're
crazy!"
"But——" begins Guy.
"Don't butt!" I cut him off, impatiently. "You're not the goat yet
and you won't be if you listen to teacher. All you have to do is give
Jimmy the sugar, watch his stuff for the next thirty days, and you'll
get a true-to-life masterpiece for your drama—probably a play that
will show the making of a financial, scientific or artistic Napoleon! If
you can't get a play out of the effect of sudden wealth on a lowly
bellhop, then you got no business In the same room with a
typewriter!"
Guy rubs his chin, smooths back his wavy hair and gazes out of
the window at New York City.
"By Jove!" he busts out suddenly, slapping his hands together.
"The thing is fantastic—grotesque—but I'll do it!"
So it came to pass that the next day Guy, Jimmy Burns, and
myself met by appointment in the cashier's office of the Plumbers &
Physicians National Bank. As I was on my lunch hour and minutes
were at a premium, there was little time squandered on
preliminaries, Guy making his proposition to the thunderstruck
James in simple words of one syllable. At first M. Burns refused to
believe he wasn't being kidded, then he got hysterical with delight.
When the startled cashier solemnly asked for his signature and
handed him a bank book showing there was $25,000 to his credit in
the vaults, Jimmy broke down and cried like a baby!
"Now listen to me, young man," I tell the panting Burns when he
has hid the bank book in his shoe to the open amusement of Guy
and the wondering cashier. "You want to get an immediate rush of
brains to the head and make that twenty-five thousand mean
something, because that's the last you get if you cry your eyes out!
That's all there is, there isn't any more, get me? You been going
around squawking about what a world-beater you'd be if you had
money. Well, now you got plenty of it and we look for big things
from you. No clowning, remember, you must make good! Is all that
clear?"
Still in a happy trance, Jimmy Burns removes his cap with a start.
"Ye-ye-yes, ma'am!" he gulps, the first time he was ever polite to
anyone, before or since.
Well, really, the effect of that $25,000 suddenly showered on
Jamesy was every bit as startling as I expected—only in a slightly
different way than I fondly hoped! Those pennies went right to his
shapely head, and instead of stimulating his brain, why, they just
removed it altogether. First of all, Jimmy got a wild and
uncontrollable desire to leave the art of bell-hopping flat on its back.
Not satisfied to resign his portfolio in a dignified way, he kidded the
guests, insulted the manager, rode Jerry Murphy till Jerry wanted his
heart, and wound up by punching Pete Kift, the bell captain, right on
the nose. By an odd coincidence, these untoward actions got Jimmy
the gate.
The plutocrat bellhop's next imitation was to apply for the most
expensive suite in the hotel. They just laughed Hon. Burns off, telling
him there was nothing but standing room left in the inn and try to
get that! But Guy Tower came to the rescue and got Jimmy the
suite, as Guy wanted to keep his experiment under as close
observation as possible while making notes for his play. Once settled
in his gorgeous apartment, Jimmy swelled up like a mump and run
his former colleagues ragged getting him ice water, stationery,
telegram blanks and drug-store gin. He staggered around in the
most fashionable lobby in New York making cracks like "Hey, d'ye
think Prohibition will ever come back?" to astounded millionaires and
their ladies. Honestly, he was a wow I When one of the fellows he
used to work with called him "Jimmy," the nee bellboy angrily insists
that the manager fire him for undue familiarity, remarking, "A guy
has got to keep them servants in their proper places!"
He sent a wire to the Standard Oil Company asking if they
couldn't use a younger man in Rockefeller's place, paid the dinge
elevator pilots a dollar twenty times a day to stop the car and tie his
shoe laces, panicked the highest priced tailor in Manhattan by
ordering seven suits of "mufti," having read that the King of England
occasionally dresses in that, and generally misplayed his hand till
everybody was squawking and in no time at all Jimmy Burns was
about as popular as a mad deg in the St. Moe hotel. He failed to go
through college like he promised he would, but he certainly went
through everything else, and only for Guy, Jimmy would have been
streeted fifty times a day!
The next desire that attacks James is the ambition to see his
name in the newspapers, so he advertises for a press agent. The
first publicity purveyor who showed up made James think he was
good by using nothing but adjectives in his conversation and asking
for a honorarium of $250 the week. Mr. Burns thought the salary
was more than reasonable, but as he's the type that would ask
President Coolidge for a reference, he demanded one from the
candidate for the job. "You have asked the man who owns one—just
a minute!" says the press agent cheerily, and not at all abashed he
dashes out of the room. I heard all this when he stopped at my
switchboard with Jimmy and asked me where the writing room was.
In five minutes he's back, waving a paper in Jimmy's face. "Look
that over!" he says.
James read it out loud for my entertainment. According to this
testimonial, the bearer had did about everything in the publicity line
but act as press representative for a school where middle-aged
eagles are taught how to fly. James seems to get quite a kick out of
it.
"I think I'll take this guy," he remarks, as he looks up from the
reference.
"Fine!" says the delighted applicant. "That's a good thought. I'll
snap right into it and——"
"Tomato sauce!" butts in James sneeringly. "I don't wish no part
of you, the baby I want to hire is the bozo which wrote this
recommendation of you. He's good, what I mean, a letter-writin'
idiot!"
"A bit odd that we should both be thinking the same thing," says
Mr. Press Agent coolly. "As a matter of fact, I wrote that
recommendation myself. So now that I'm engaged as your publicity
expert, let me have a few of your photos and——"
The following morning nearly every front page in town displayed a
picture of James Burns and this glaring headline:
That was the press agent's first effort and, as far as I was ever
able to see, his last. But it got ample results, as with your permission
I'll be glad to show you.
Within a week, Jimmy Burns had discovered what millions have
discovered before his little day—that the mere possession of lucre
does not mean happiness, and for some it means positive misery!
Not only did James become the prey of the charity solicitors,
confidence workers, stock swindlers, "yes men," phony promoters
and other parasites that infest the hotel, but he was constantly in
boiling water through his cuckoo escapades growing out of sudden
wealth that sent his brains on location. After purchasing a diamond
as big as Boston, only brighter, he bought the highest priced
horseless carriage he could find in the market and the same identical
day it slipped out of his hands and tried to climb the steps of the
Fifth Avenue library. The gendarmes pinched him for reckless
driving, though Jimmy protested that it wasn't really "wreckless" as
he had plenty wreck, and his worship tossed the trembling James
into the hoosegow for three days, remarking, "I'll teach you rich men
a lesson!" Then the income-tax beagles read that newspaper
headline and came down on Burns like a cracked ceiling. So all in all,
Jimmy was finding few chuckles connected with his pieces of eight.
When the rich but unhappy James got out of the Bastille, he
decided to throw a party in his costly suite at the St. Moe for his
former associates of the bellhops' bench. As Jimmy confided to me,
apparently his only friend, he felt the immediate need of mixing with
people who spoke his language. He wanted to forget his troubles
and get back on a friendly footing with the boys, who had severed
diplomatic relations with him on account of his acting like he was
Sultan of Goitre or something when he became a thousandaire
overnight. Jimmy felt that a first-class soiree would do the trick.
The party came off as advertised, but all it meant to the poor little
rich man was more grief! It was really a respectable enough affair,
no hats being broken or that sort of thing, and a pleasant time was
had by all with the slight exception of the charming host. Our hero
made two fatal mistakes. The first was not inviting Jerry Murphy and
the second was laying in a stock of canny Scotch for medicinal
purposes, in case any of his guests should get stricken with the
dread disease of thirst. The result was that an epidemic of parched
throats broke out early in the evening and pretty soon the other
habitues of the St. Moe began complaining bitterly about the
unusually boisterous race riot that was being staged with a top-
heavy cast on the sixth floor. Mr. Williams, the manager, who liked
Jimmy Burns and arsenic the same way, called upon Jerry Murphy to
quell the disturbance and Jerry licked his lips with delight. The man-
mountain house detective run all the way upstairs, figuring the
elevators too slow to whisk him to a job as tasty to him as cream is
to puss. Jerry pounded on the door of Jimmy's salon and demanded
admittance. Recognizing his voice, James climbed unsteadily on a
chair, opened the transom and peered with a rolling eye at Jerry.
"Go roll yer hoop—hic—you big shtiff, thish is gen'lemen's—hic—
gen'lemen's blowout!" says Jimmy, carelessly pouring a pitcher of
water, cracked ice and all, on Jerry's noble head. "Hic—shee kin you
laugh off!"
Foaming at the mouth and uttering strange cries, the infuriated
Jerry broke through the door and the panic was on! The beauty and
chivalry present fled before the charging sleuth like they'd flee
before a charging hippo, but the unfortunate Jimmy got left at the
post. After cuffing him around the room till the sport palled on him,
Jerry dragged James off to durance vile and once again Jamesy is
put under glass, this time credited with illegally possessing spirits
frumenti. They held him under lock and key all night and it took all
of Guy Tower's influence and quite a few of his quarters to get Jerry
to withdraw the charge and free Jimmy the next morning.
Well, honestly, I felt sorry for Jimmy Burns, who was certainly
taking cruel and unusual punishment and being made to like it. I
thought perhaps if I injected a lady into the situation it might make
things a bit more pleasant for him, so I introduced Hazel Killian to
the "millionaire bellboy," as the newspapers were still calling James.
O sole mia! as they say in Iowa, what an off day my brain was
having when it cooked up that idea! With visions clouding her
usually painstaking taste, of the Riviera, Paris, Monte Carlo, gems,
yachts, Boles-Joyce limousines or what have you, Hazel took to
Jimmy like a goldfish takes to a bowl and our evening expeditions
now consisted of your correspondent and Guy, assisted by Hazel and
Jimmy. We went everywhere together, with James insisting upon
paying most of the bills. But while Jimmy was civil enough to the
easy-to-look-at Hazel, he simply showered his attentions on your
little friend Gladys, grabbing every chance to make the most violent
love to me. This greatly annoyed Guy and Hazel and equally greatly
amused me—Jimmy was just a giggle to me, not a gasp!
In the meanwhile, Mr. Williams and Jerry Murphy had banded
together to make James sick and tired of living in the Hotel St. Moe.
He seldom found his room made up, there was always something
wrong with the lights, the water and the steam, none of the help
would answer his bells, and when he hollered for service he was told
he would find it in the dictionary under S. But Pete Kift pulled the
worst trick of all on him. With the radiant Hazel on his arm and Guy
keeping military distance behind, Jimmy was proudly strutting
through the lobby one fine evening. All were resplendent in evening
clothes, and to show you I'm not catty I'll say that Hazel in an
evening gown would attract attention away from the Yosemite. As
the party neared the desk, Pete Kift suddenly looks at Jimmy and
bawls "Front!" at the top of his bull elephant's voice, and
mechanically responding to the habit of a lifetime, poor Jimmy Burns
grabs an amazed guest's suitcase and hastily starts for the elevator!
The witnesses just screamed when they grasped the situation and
recognized James as the ex-bellhop. Even Guy smiled, but it was
different with Hazel, who could have shot down Mr. Burns on the
spot in cold blood. As for Jimmy, well, honestly, he would have
welcomed the bullet!
Nevertheless, in spite of this fox pass Hazel believed Jimmy had
actually inherited an even million, and evidently James had not gone
out of his way to make her think different. So one day Hazel tells me
she's all through posing for artists and is determined to make Jimmy
her very own. When she adds that he has sworn to star her in a
musical comedy or back her in a movie production, I nearly passed
out! Can you imagine Jimmy, with only a few thousand left, making
any such maniacal promises as that to a girl with a memory like
Hazel's? Oo la la, what a fine disturbance James was readying
himself for!
As I had vowed to say nothing about how Jimmy got his bankroll,
I couldn't very well give the ambitious Hazel the lowdown on
matters, but I did try most earnestly to lay her off him. I got
nowhere! Refusing to be warned, Hazel point-blankly accused me of
having a yen for Jimmy myself, and then she set sail for this gilded
youth in dead earnest.
Well, knowing nothing of Hazel's plans with regard to himself, the
doomed Jimmy kept on entertaining like his first name was Astor, his
middle name Vanderbilt and his last name Morgan. He took me,
Hazel and Guy to the races at Belmont Park and stabled us all in a
box. As James had loudly declared that he knew more about horses
than Vincent Ibanez, we all played his-feed-box tips for five races
and we learned about losers from him. When the sixth and last
scramble arrived, Guy had donated $1,500, I had sent in $50, and
Hazel had parted with $80 to the oral books and was fit to be tied I
What Jimmy lost, nobody knows. Anyhow, he gazed over the
program for the sixth race, a mile handicap, and suddenly let out a
yell.
"Hot dog!" he says, much excited. "Here's where we all get
independent for life. They's a beagle in this dash by the name of
Bellhop and if that ain't a hunch then Pike's Peak's a pimple. Get
down on this baby with the family jools and walk outa here rancid
with money!"
We split a contemptuous grin between us and presented it to
Jimmy before getting down on the favorite in a last attempt to break
even on the day. Jimmy milled his way back to our box, flushed and
panting, and gayly announced that he had shot the works on
Bellhop's nose. He said we were all paranoiacs for not doing the
same. Well, it was all over in a twinkling! The favorite found the
handicap of our bets a bit too much and finished an even last.
Bellhop tripped the mile in something like 0.96 and won from here to
the Ruhr, clicking off $15,000 for Mr. James Joseph Aloysius Burns.
James then announced his intention of buying the horse and
presenting it to Hazel for Arbor Day, and it was only with the
greatest of difficulty that me and Guy talked him out of it. Hazel
gave us a murderous glare and for the rest of the day you couldn't
have got a nail file between her and Jimmy, honestly!
Whirling back to New York in Jimmy's car, now steered by a
uniformed chauffeur, I began to reprove James for this gambling and
stepping out when he should be using his money and time to secure
his future. What about all his promises to me? How about all the big
things he was going to do? When was he going to enter business, or
whatever he thought he could do best?
"Don't make me laugh!" says Jimmy, tapping an imported
cigarette on a solid gold case. "I'm sittin' pretty. What a sucker I'd be
to pester myself about work when I got all this sugar!"
"Of course," says Hazel, nestling closer to him. "Imagine a
millionaire working!"
And the only thing that really burned me up was Jimmy's grin at
Guy and the sly dig in the ribs he gave me, the little imp!
Well, from then on Jimmy had lots of luck and all of it bad. The
fellow who invented money was a clever young man, but he really
should have stayed around the laboratory for another couple of
hours and invented an antidote for the trouble it brings. The well-to-
do ex-bellhop used his jack as a wedge to get into one jam after
another, till finally came the worst blow of all, and Miss Hazel Killian
delivered it.
It seems that Hazel got fatigued waiting for Jimmy to unbelt the
roll and star her in a musical comedy or a super-production, so she
requested a showdown. Jimmy checked up and discovered he had
blown all but about five thousand of his ill-gotten gains, and as
trustworthy reports had reached him that it would take about ten
times that much to group a show around the beauteous Hazel, he
calmly told her all bets were off. Hazel promptly fainted, but Jimmy's
idea of first aid being an alarmed glance and a dash for the door,
she quickly snapped out of it and demanded ten thousand dollars for
the time she put in entertaining him.
"Aha—a gold digger, hey?" says Jimmy indignantly. "So you wish
ten grand for entertainin' me? Where d'ye get that stuff? They ain't
no ten thousand dollars' worth of laughs in you for me, I'll tell the
world! Take the air!"
Infuriated beyond speech, Hazel brought suit for $100,000
against James the following day, charging that promising young man
had promised to wed her. Further, deponent sayeth not!
That was the end of the high life for Jimmy Burns. Honestly, he
was scared stiff and he got little comfort from me, for I was
absolutely disgusted with the way he had carried on from the time
Guy gave him that money. Opportunity had knocked on this little
fool's door and he had pretended he wasn't at home. Not only that,
but I felt he had got me in wrong with Guy Tower, whose $25,000
investment for a plot now seemed a total loss. I told Guy tearfully
how sorry I was that my scheme had failed to pan out, but he cut
me off in the middle of my plea for forgiveness, his face a mass of
smiles.
"My dear girl, you owe me no apology," says Guy, patting my
shoulder. "It is I who owe you a debt of gratitude. I've written a
farce-comedy around Jimmy's adventures with the twenty-five
thousand, and Rosenblum predicts it will be the hit of the season!
I've never seen him so enthusiastic. Your idea was more than
successful, and Jimmy is welcome to whatever he has left of the
money when the time limit expires!"
Wasn't that lovely?
In the meantime, the miserable Jimmy had tried to forget his
worries again by mixing with his former fellow workmen about the
hotel. Jerry Murphy and Pete Kift wouldn't give him a tumble, so he
sat on the bellhops' bench all night, trying to square things with his
ex-playmates. But now that he was a "millionaire" they put on the
ice and treated him like a maltese would be treated at a mouse's
reception. A great longing comes over Jimmy to be a care-free
bellboy again, without the burden of wealth. He felt the irresistible
call of the ice water, the stationery and the tip! So, unable to lick the
temptation, he sneaked the baggage of a few guests upstairs and
was promptly run out of the hotel by the other boys for poaching on
their preserves. To make things perfect, a couple of days later he
was served with the papers in Hazel's suit.
Unable to cope with the situation and hysterical with fear, Jimmy
rushed to the switchboard and made an appeal to me that would
have melted a Chinese executioner. He placed the blame for the
trouble he was in on my georgetted shoulders—manlike—and
insisted that I had to get him out of the mess. The legal documents
Hazel had him tagged with smacked to the terrified Jimmy of pitiless
judges, stern juries, jail—perhaps even the gallows! Honestly, James
was in fearful shape, no fooling. I shut off his moans finally, and told
him to get rid of whatever money he had left and I would take on
myself the horrible job of explaining everything to Hazel. With a wild
whinny, Jimmy dashed out of the hotel without even thanking me,
gambled his remaining ducats in one wild stock-market plunge—and
two days later the ticker informed him that he was worth $25,000
again!
But money was now smallpox to Jimmy Burns. It was just three
weeks and four days since Guy Tower gave him the original $25,000,
and under the agreement Jimmy still had three days left to splurge.
Nothing stirring! What he wanted to do now was to get rid of his
wealth, as I had told him Hazel's barristers would never let her sue
him should they find out the defendant had no more nickels. Jimmy
wanted to go to law with Hazel the same way he wanted to part
with his ears, so he busts in on Guy and tells him to take back his
gold because he don't wish any part of it. Before the astonished Guy
can open his mouth, Jimmy hurls twenty-five one-thousand-dollar
bills on the table and flees the room!
Well, being an important customer of the St. Moe, Guy got Jimmy
back his old job hopping bells, broke, but happy for the first time in
a month. Then Guy insisted on me accepting a small royalty from his
play for producing Jimmy Burns as the plot. That left everybody
taken care of but the raging Hazel, who declared herself off me for
life and was packed and ready to leave me alone in New York. Guy
solved that problem and made Hazel crazily happy by engaging her
to play herself in his comedy, "Money to Burns." Merry Flag Day!
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