★ 3 ★::A Gentleman of Leisure
Mr. McEachern
At the time when Jimmy slept in his chair, previous to being from his by the of Spike, a Mr. John McEachern, Captain of Police was seated in the of his up-town villa, reading. He was a man on a large scale. Everything about him was large—his hands, his feet, his shoulders, his chest, and particularly his jaw—which in his moments of was aggressive, and which out, when anything to him, like the of a battleship. In his days, which had been passed mainly on the East Side, this of his had a from Park Row to Fourteenth Street. No gang-fight, absorbing, the attention of the blood of the Bowery when Mr. McEachern’s in sight, with the of his person in close attendance. He was a man who no fear, and he had gone through like an east wind.
But there was another to his character. In fact, that other was so large that the of him, his in and his in up public disturbances, might be said to have been only an offshoot. For his was as large as his and as as his jaw. He had entered the Force with the single idea of rich, and had set about his object with a that was as as his locust-stick. Some are grafters, some graft, and some have upon them. Mr. McEachern had by being the first, had to the second, and for some years now had been a of the small and hugely-prosperous third-class, the class which not go out graft, but at home and lets come to them.
Though neither his name his financial methods it, Mr. McEachern was by birth an English gentleman. His complete history would take long to write. Abridged, it may be told as follows. His name was John Forrest, and he was the only 22son of one Eustace Forrest, at one time a major in the Guards. His only other relative was Edward, Eustace’s brother, a bachelor. When Mrs. Eustace died, four years after the marriage, the widower, having eighteen months at Monte Carlo out an for the bank, to the great of M. Blanc and the management in general, to the gardens, where he himself in the way, many liabilities, no assets, and one son.
Edward, by this time a man of in Lombard Street, John, and sent him to a series of schools, with a and with Eton.
Unfortunately, Eton had from John a higher of than he was prepared to supply, and a week after his eighteenth birthday his career as an Etonian closed prematurely. Edward Forrest delivered his ultimatum. John choose the smallest of small in his uncle’s and £100 in bank-notes, with the hand-washing and disowning. John had out for that money almost the had left his uncle’s mouth. He left for Liverpool that day and for New York on the morrow.
He his hundred pounds, his hand without success at one or two odd jobs, and in with a policeman, who, the man’s physique, which then was impressive, that he should join the Force. The policeman, name was O’Flaherty, having talked the over with two other names were O’Rourke and Muldoon, that he should his name to something Irish, the to him for his new profession. Accordingly, John Forrest to be and Patrolman J. McEachern was born.
In his search for he had been to his time. He did not want the which every New York acquires. His object was something bigger, and he was prepared to wait for it. He that small were an but to all great fortunes. Probably Captain Kidd had started in a small way. Certainly Mr. Rockefeller had. He was to in the of the masters.
A patrolman’s opportunities of are not great. Mr. McEachern had the best of a job. He had not the which came as single than in 23battalions. Until the time should arrive when he might for he was prepared to catch sprats.
Much may be done, on a small scale, by perseverance. In those early days Mr. McEachern’s had not failed to notice who the traffic, who did the same by the pavement, and restaurant-keepers not a with a for at one o’clock in the morning. His in this were not unprofitable. In a space of time he had put by the $3,000 which were the price of his promotion to detective-sergeant. He did not like paying $3,000 for promotion, but there must be of if an investment is to prosper. Mr. McEachern “came across”, and one more step up the ladder.
As detective-sergeant he his enlarged. There was more scope for a man of parts. Things moved more rapidly. The world full of to “dress his front” and do him other little kindnesses. Mr. McEachern was no churl. He let them dress his front; he the little kindnesses. Presently he that he had $15,000 to for any small that might take his fancy. Singularly enough, this was the necessary to make him a captain.
He a captain. And it was then that he that El Dorado was no poet’s dream, and that Tom Tiddler’s Ground, where one might up gold and silver, was as a as Brooklyn or the Bronx. At last, after years of patient waiting, he like Moses on the mountain, looking into the Promised Land. He had come to where the big money was.
The book he was reading now was the little note-book in which he a record of his investments, which were and varied. That the were satisfactory was at a glance. The on his face, and the position of his were proof of that. There were notes to house property, shares, and a dozen other things. He was a rich man.
This was a which was by his neighbours, with he relations, no and none. For Mr. McEachern was playing a big game. Other in his walk of life had been to be rich men in a where means were the rule. But about Mr. McEachern there was a 24touch of the Napoleonic. He meant to into society—the of England. Other people have noted the fact—which had itself very on the policeman’s mind—that England and the United States there are 3,000 miles of water. In the United States he would be a retired police-captain; in England an American of large and means with a daughter.
That was the in his life—his Molly. Though, if he had been a bachelor, he would not have been satisfied to a career from graft; on the other hand, if it had not been for Molly he would not have felt, as he in his wealth, that he was a of Holy War. Ever since his wife had died, in his detective-sergeant days, him with a year-old daughter, his had been with Molly.
All his were on the future. This New York life was only a for the to come. He not a unnecessarily. When Molly was home from they together and in the small house which Molly’s taste so comfortable. The neighbours, his and the on which he lived, told each other that here, at any rate, was a hands were clean of graft. They did not know of the that week by week and year by year into his bank, to be at into the most channels. Until the time should come for the great change, economy was his motto. The of his home were the of his official salary. All to his savings.
He closed his book with a and another cigar. Cigars were his only personal luxury. He nothing, ate the food, and a of last for an length of time; but no for economy make him himself smoke.
He sat on, thinking. It was very late, but he did not for bed. A great moment had in his affairs. For days Wall Street had been one of its of jumpiness. There had been and counter-rumours, until from the there had up like a the one particular stock in which he was most interested. He had that morning, and the result had left him dizzy. The main point to which his mind was that the time had come 25at last. He make the great now at any moment that him.
He was clouds of and over this when the door opened, a bull-terrier, a bulldog, and in the wake of the a girl in a and red slippers.
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