4: Speakeasy

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id53.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: New Orleans"><U><B>1:  New Orleans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id54.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: Mary Margaret"><U><B>2:  Mary Margaret</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id55.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Rumrunners Row"><U><B>3:  Rumrunners' Row</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>4:  Speakeasy</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id57.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Sys Deal"><U><B>5:  Sy's Deal</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id58.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: Reunion"><U><B>6:  Reunion</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id59.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: Disaster"><U><B>7:  Disaster</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id60.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: Petofi"><U><B>8:  Petofi</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id63.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Cuddeback"><U><B>9:  Cuddeback</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id64.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="10: Angelique"><U><B>10:  Angelique</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id65.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Making Plans"><U><B>11:  Making Plans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id66.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: Chicago"><U><B>12:  Chicago</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id67.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Nora"><U><B>13:  Nora</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id68.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: The Gypsy"><U><B>14:  The Gypsy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id69.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="15: The Trap"><U><B>15:  The Trap</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id70.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="16: The Gift"><U><B>16:  The Gift</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id71.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="17: Beth"><U><B>17:  Beth</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id74.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="18: Together Again"><U><B>18:  Together Again</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id75.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="19: Petofi Strikes"><U><B>19:  Petofi Strikes</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U><B>Taking Wooden Nickels</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>4:  Speakeasy</B></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div>      Jamison took the news of the loss of the schooner in stride.  He was still too thrilled with being a new father to be very concerned about it all.  Besides, all of them had made so much money from the runs they had made that they were still very much in the red.  In fact, Dave even seemed relieved by it all.  He agreed with Quentin--he felt sure that irritated gangsters had seized the boat.  "Maybe now you'll let the big boys play the game by themselves, " he said hopefully.  He didn't realize that Quentin and Cholly were still plotting.  They were too thrilled by the excitement to just give it up. Besides, Quentin rationalized, he had Jamison's family to look out for.</div> <div>      Jamison came to Greenwich Village to go out with Quentin and Cholly to celebrate Roger's birth.  Quentin suggested Sy's place, but Cholly objected:  "No, the birth of a son is special.  So we need to go someplace special.  The Three Hundred Club."  The other two hadn't been there before, so Cholly became insistent.  "You've got to go for Tex alone," he urged.</div> <div>      The cover charge alone was $25, and Jamison's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say anything.  Because it was just the three of them, they went to the noisy men's barroom.  Cholly whispered to their waiter that they were celebrating the birth of Jamison's son, so they were to be provided with a couple of bottles of scotch --and he wasn't to say anything about cost.  He stuffed $100 into the waiter's hand.   The waiter agreed to be discreet.  When he brought the first bottle, though, he did congratulate Jamison.</div> <div>      "So what did you name this kid, Jamison?"  Quentin asked.</div> <div>      "Roger."</div> <div>      "ROGER?" Quentin repeated.  It was noisy in the bar.  "I'm sure Edward was thrilled."</div> <div>      "Roger Edward," Jamison amended.</div> <div>      "Who's Roger?" Quentin asked.  "Nobody in our family."</div> <div>      "Ruth's father."</div> <div>      Quentin looked impressed.  "Good for you, Jamison!  And good for Ruth!"</div> <div>      "We're having a christening party for Roger next month.  I wish you'd come."</div> <div>      Quentin shook his head.  "I'm sorry, no.  I do want to see the baby, though.  And meet Ruth and the little girl.  Elizabeth?"</div> <div>      "Why don't you come to Collinwood, then?"</div> <div>      "You know why, Jamison.  Bring them to New York."</div> <div>      Jamison shook his head.  "Not until Roger's older."</div> <div>      "Some day you have to tell me what YOU did wrong," Cholly interjected.</div> <div>      "When you tell me what YOU did wrong," Quentin answered.</div> <div>      "Don't," Cholly warned.  "You know it already!"</div> <div>      "What?"  Jamison asked blankly.</div> <div>      "Nothing, I shouldn't have said anything," Cholly said uncomfortably, tightening his jaw.  Under the table, he kicked Quentin's ankle.  "It's just that I don't see my parents anymore, either."  He added sadly, "I have a new nephew, too.  I've never seen him.  Nor the other one.  I only know about them because my sister writes to me in secret."</div> <div>      "This is ridiculous," Jamison said in irritation.  "Families shouldn't be like this."  He thought and then said, "Look, Frank, I know you won't come home while Father is there.  Would you come when Father is away on a trip?  Would you?"</div> <div>      "If you promise me that you won't trick me and have him hiding in the west wing or someplace when I show up," Quentin replied.</div> <div>      "Don't be ridiculous!"  Jamison snapped.  "I just want you to meet Ruth and the children.  I wouldn't do that to you--Frank.  Although I am still hoping to persuade you to reconcile with Father."</div> <div>      "Okay, let's not get into it now, please.  We're supposed to be celebrating."</div> <div>      They were scowling at each other, so Cholly raised his drink and said, "I propose a toast.  Here's to Roger Edward Collins."  They all clinked glasses, and Jamison and Quentin stopped glaring at each other.</div> <div>      "HELLO, ALL YOU SUCKERS!"  a loud, brash voice called out.  The woman who seemed to burst into the room was boisterous, cheerful, sporting a large hat, and a huge smile.  Patrons were calling out to her, "Where ya been, Tex?"  and "Now the party can get started!"</div> <div>      "It's too darn QUIET in here!" the woman called Tex called out.  She pulled out a police whistle and blew on it.  "Come on, you guys!  Let's hear it!"  Around them, men began twirling noisemakers.  Quentin began laughing.  This woman was a real card.</div> <div>      "Who is she?"  he asked Cholly.</div> <div>      "She helps run the smartest of the speakeasies," Cholly replied.  "She's always fun.  She tells dirty jokes, she sings, she blows that damn whistle--everyone always has fun at her places.  Her last name is Guinan.  She's got a first name, but I've only heard people call her Tex or Texas."</div> <div>      The woman walked over to the piano and requested a tune.  She began to sing, and many of the patrons cheered and clapped.  Jamison was talking about Harry Houdini and how he wished Houdini would come off the lecture circuit to perform escape tricks again.  He thought Elizabeth would enjoy it.  Jamison himself had seen Houdini in 1913, when he'd escaped from his upside-down water torture cell.  Houdini was lecturing about phony spiritualists, and that was no where near as interesting.</div> <div>      At the next table, a fight broke out.  Jamison, Quentin, and Cholly jumped up and got out of the way as the men involved in the brawl struggled and threw punches, knocking over several tables.  The bouncers moved in quickly and grabbed the brawlers.  Once the men were ejected, Tex called out, "A fight a night or your money back!"</div> <div>      Jamison roared.  "Ruth would like her!"</div> <div>      "She visits all the rooms," Cholly said.  "Bring your wife next time.  She'll have a good time."  He looked at Quentin.  "You'll have to get a date, though, if you want to get in with Jamison and Ruth."</div> <div>      "Yes, I know.  I'm sure I can think of someone," Quentin replied.  There was always Ann, the redhead.  He still looked her up every once in a while.  She was giddy but fun.  She was also very free in her lovemaking, and she was one of the few girls that used her own birth control method.  She'd shown Quentin--he'd never seen anything like it.  She'd explained she'd gotten it from one of Margaret Sanger's clinics.</div> <div> Progress was wonderful.</div> <div>      Sometime toward the beginning of October, Jamison told Quentin he was bringing Ruth and the children to Glen Cove, which was where her brother and sister-in-law lived.  He'd convinced Ruth to come into town with him to meet Quentin at the Three Hundred Club.  Quentin wanted to meet Ruth alone first, so he asked them to come to Greenwich Village.  Then he could take them to pick up Ann on their way to the club.  Cholly made other plans so that Quentin could be alone during his visit.  "I'm glad you're getting together with your family again," he told Quentin.  "Maybe I'll see some of mine before I die."  Quentin felt sorry for him.</div> <div>      Ruth Healey Collins was one of the most beautiful women Quentin had ever met. It wasn't just her looks because she still had some of the plumpness left over from her pregnancy.  It was the fact that her personality seemed to emanate from all her features. She had large, expressive eyes and her thick dark chestnut hair was wavy in spite of the bob. She had a radiant smile that seemed to bring out golden flecks to accent her hazel eyes, especially when she laughed.  Her open friendliness was infectious.  She was young; at least 10 years younger than Jamison, and Quentin thought how lucky his nephew was as he took Ruth's hand and kissed it.</div> <div>      Ruth was charmed.  "You didn't tell me Frank had such courtly manners," she said.</div> <div>      "Ha!  I'm not a lady," Jamison scoffed teasingly.  "I wouldn't know if he had any manners or not!"</div> <div>      Making small talk, Quentin asked about the baby and Elizabeth.  "He's gaining a pound every day, I swear," Ruth declared.  "And Elizabeth dotes on him.  Really, you must come out and see them.  I'd like you to."</div> <div>      "I would too."     </div> <div> "Will you come to Collinwood?" Jamison asked.</div> <div> Quentin gave him a dirty look.  "I thought you meant while you were here on Long Island."</div> <div> "Oh, but you must, of course," Ruth put in smoothly.  "I understand from Jamison that you play the piano, too, Frank.  You know that we have one at home?"  When Quentin nodded, she went on, "Well, you must come and play for me and I will play for you.  Wouldn't you like that?  And Elizabeth loves to sing.  She has a dear, sweet little voice."</div> <div> "Well, I'd like to, but--"</div> <div> "I told you, darling," Jamison interrupted.  "I told you that is why we can't tell Father about him."</div> <div> "Let's not get into all of that," Quentin said irritably.  He didn't want to spoil the evening with talk of Collinwood and family. </div> <div> Ruth, responding to his irritated tone, said gently: "I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Frank, but I really don't understand why you don't want to see Edward.  He is such a dear old gentleman!"</div> <div> Quentin gave Jamison another dirty look.  "Ruth, you haven't seen him in a room with me.  Trust me, it's not a good idea.  We really don't get along at all."</div> <div> Ruth looked genuinely puzzled.  "I can't imagine not speaking to any of my family."  That was just about what Dave had said.  Quentin sighed.  "Please don't think I'm being critical, Frank.  You seem so nice, and Edward is such a sweet old bird.  I just can't imagine the two of you not getting along."  </div> <div> Quentin started laughing.  Even Jamison had to smile at that.  "You haven't seen the two of them, circling each other like Dempsey and Firpo," he explained.</div> <div> "Oh, please!" Quentin said sarcastically.  "You've got to give Edward more credit than that Jamison.  That was the fastest fight on record-it didn't even go a whole round.  I'd say Edward would go the distance with me."</div> <div> "Oh, and you see yourself as Jack Dempsey?" Ruth put in, amused. "Well, I still would like you to come to Collinwood.  It's your home, and I really would like to hear you play the piano.  Would you come up in the beginning of November?  Cousin Edward will be away on business--to London."</div> <div> Quentin considered.  "Sure," he agreed.  Why not?  They talked a little more, and Quentin decided he liked Ruth very much.  She was probably the best thing that had ever happened to Jamison and even if a small portion of what she said about Edward was true, then she was probably the best thing that had happened to the Collins family in thirty years, period.  Later, they left to pick up Ann and go to the Three Hundred Club.  Ruth was excited; she hadn't been to a really nice club in years--not since before Elizabeth was born.  She wore her feelings on her face, Quentin thought.  She the most gorgeous and appealing woman he'd met in a long, long time.  Much more so than Mary Margaret.  Ann wasn't even in the running.</div> <div> Arriving at the Three Hundred Club, they went in for dinner and cocktails first.  The hours passed swiftly as they talked and enjoyed each other's company.  It was after midnight before they made their way to the clubroom reserved for partying couples.</div> <div>      The door opened to admit the two couples to the main room.  Although dimly lit, there was a lot of music, laughing, and dancing.  Perched on top of the piano was the famous Texas Guinan, wearing a necklace around her neck dangling with miniature padlocks.  She swung a whistle on a cord and kicked her legs gaily.  "Hello, suckers!"  she called out to the newcomers and waved. Ruth laughed and waved back.</div> <div>      They were shown to a table and asked for a bottle of champagne to share.  Upon hearing the price was $25 for the solitary bottle, Jamison muttered, "'Hello suckers' is right!"  Quentin wanted a bottle of scotch and didn't flinch when he heard it would cost another $35.  He was used to it.</div> <div>      "When it comes, hold it up to the light to make sure it's the good stuff and not something cheap," Quentin advised.  "Although I heard in this place, the owner doesn't skimp."</div> <div>      Ann giggled.  Ruth and Jamison looked at her and then at each other.  She was a "showgirl" type but necessary so that they would all be admitted to this part of the establishment, Quentin had explained.  There was another lounge on the floor below for  the men without partners.  They were kept segregated so that there would be no disputes over the ladies.  The single men were welcome to stay as long as the place was open, but they weren't permitted into the upper establishment without a female companion.</div> <div>      The band began to play, and Quentin saw Dave. Quentin had gotten to know members of the band, jamming with them on occasion and mentioned Dave's name as well as the others as fill-ins.  He was glad to see someone had called on his friend. "You see that man over there in the band, the one with the trumpet?" Quentin asked.  "That's my friend, Dave Fisher."</div> <div>      "Really?" Ruth said.  "He's in this band, is he?"  She waved and smiled at Dave.  He just inclined his head politely to acknowledge he'd seen her.  </div> <div> The bottle came, and everyone took a drink.  "Gee, look at the Prince of Wales over there," said Ann, giggling again.</div> <div>      "Oh, really?"  Quentin asked indulgently, looking where she indicated.  When she turned her head to show him, he glanced at Jamison and Ruth and rolled his eyes.  Ruth had a hard time trying not to laugh.  He looked at the gentleman and lady at the table across the room.  They were quite elegantly dressed and COULD have been royalty, but lots of rich people looked like that, Quentin thought.  This Ann was a real ding-a-ling, but she would be fun later when she'd had enough to drink.</div> <div>      Everyone was having a good time, with Texas Guinan playing the role of emcee.  She told dirty jokes and sometimes would blow her police whistle when the door opened to admit more couples.  "She's really a character," Ruth commented, laughing.  Just then, the woman cried out:  "Curfew shall not ring tonight!"</div> <div>      "There's plenty of other places," Ann said, "but this place is the most fun."</div> <div>      The door opened to admit two very heavy men accompanied by equally hefty female companions.  The whistle blew very shrilly, and Quentin took a good look at the men.  He grabbed Jamison by the arm.  "This is a raid!" he warned in a whisper.</div> <div>      Jamison blanched.  "WHAT?"</div> <div>      "Ssh!  That's Izzy and Moe!"</div> <div>      "Who're they?"</div> <div>      "Prohibition agents.  I've seen them before.  We gotta get out of here."  Quentin whispered urgently to the two women.  "Why don't you two go visit the ladies' for awhile?   They won't go in there."</div> <div>      "C'mon, sugar," Ann said calmly, and led the wide-eyed Ruth  off toward the ladies room.</div> <div>      "Jamison, come on," Quentin said.</div> <div>      "Where are we going?"</div> <div>      "Let's see what's in the back."  They got up quickly and walked quickly in the opposite direction of the women.  The two fat couples had waddled into the room, nodding at their hostess.  The door was opening again.  "Go, go," Quentin urged, pushing Jamison through the a door.  They were in a kitchen.  There was a cook and several helpers there, gawking.  "Listen, the cops are here," Quentin explained rapidly.  "Let me have your  jacket," he went on, holding out a ten dollar bill to one of the cook's helpers.  The man was only too happy to give it up and gave his white jacket to Quentin.  He was out the back door and down the stairs.  Jamison got a white jacket in the same way and the two men began chopping vegetables.  </div> <div> .      Outside, real police whistles began to go off.  "Raid!"  someone shouted.   They could hear band members singing and playing "The Prisoner's Song."</div> <div>      "This is crazy, Quentin," Jamison exclaimed, and then began to laugh.</div> <div>  Quentin began laughing too.  "Get serious, will you?  We have to make this look good."</div> <div>      "I never cut a carrot before in my life!"</div> <div>      "Just don't chop any onions!"</div> <div>      The two men were laughing almost out of control when the door burst open and Texas Guinan strode in, leading the distinguished looking gentleman Ann had pointed out.  She went directly to the cook, who was staring open-mouthed as he scrambled a large bowl of eggs.  "I want you to twenty-three skidoo," she said to the cook, "but give me your jacket first."  The cook obediently removed his coat and gave it to his boss and went right out the back door.  "Here," she said to the gentleman.  "Put this on and scramble the eggs.  And for crying out loud, don't open your mouth!"  She  looked at Quentin and Jamison curiously.  "Who are youse two?"</div> <div>      "Oh, we're just the help," Quentin said deprecatingly, smiling charmingly.</div> <div>      She looked him up and down lewdly and then winked.  "I have good taste," she said and went back out into the outer room.</div> <div>      The three men looked at each other.  "I say," the other man said finally, "I must say this is rather awkward."  He was most definitely not American.</div> <div>      "Rawther," Quentin answered.  "Listen, pal, the lady was right.  If the cops come in here, keep your mouth shut."  The man nodded and began scrambling busily.</div> <div>      Jamison was poking Quentin.  "Isn't that-"</div> <div>      "Shut up, wouldya?" Quentin snapped.  There was a  good deal of screaming and protesting going on outside.  The kitchen door opened again, and the Prohibition agent named Izzy strolled in as easily as his bulk would allow.  He and Quentin looked at each other.  Quentin hoped Izzy wouldn't recognize him.  He hated sleeping in jail cells.</div> <div>      "Youse aren't drinking back here, areya?"  Izzy asked.</div> <div>      Jamison gulped.  "Uh, no, we're cooking-"</div> <div>      "Yeah?  Well, youse are done now.  Party's over.  Place is shut down, officially, as of now," Izzy said, in an almost bored way.  He turned and walked back out.  Jamison followed him to the door and opened it part way, peeking out.  Quentin and the gentleman joined them, peering over Jamison's shoulder.</div> <div>      There were police everywhere, leading men and women out.  Texas Guinan announced, "Well, boys, I won't argue with you, but a good hostess always waits until her last guest has left."   Jamison was looking around for Ruth, Quentin realized, and he put his hand on Jamison's shoulder.  She seemed like a very level-headed young woman, and Ann had street smarts if nothing else in her head.  They would probably stay put.  The band members were up on their feet, showing the police that THEY didn't have any liquor.  Quentin didn't see Dave, and he figured his friend had already fled.</div> <div>      "Don't worry, Jamison," Quentin said, "I'm sure Ruth is all right."</div> <div>      "Geez, uh, Frank, how'd you know who they were?"</div> <div>      "Well, I recognized that taller fat guy."</div> <div>      "Taller?" the gentleman asked, looking at the two fat men.  "Is one really taller?"</div> <div>      "Well, the wider one, then," Quentin amended.  "His name is Izzy Einstein, and his partner's name is Moe Smith.  They're really getting wise to be able to get into a nice place like this."</div> <div>      "How do you know them?"</div> <div>      "Well, I had the displeasure of meeting good old Izzy once a few weeks ago," Quentin began and explained what happened at the little bar on the east side. "So he tells the guy he's a hard working prohibition agent and can he have a pint?"</div> <div>      "He said that? And he was sold a pint?" the gentleman said, shocked.</div> <div>      "Well, I guess the guy couldn't believe what he was hearing," Quentin said ruefully.  "Anyway, he comes in and goes up to the bar and orders the pint.  Well, Cholly and I were sitting right there when the pint came out, so we all went to jail and spent the night." Jamison turned and looked at him, wide-eyed.  "Well, thank you for sparing us that!  I can just hear Father now!"</div> <div>      "Me, too," Quentin said and made a face.</div> <div>      "Jail!  How humiliating!" the gentleman exclaimed.  He had gone very pale. </div> <div>      "That guy is really clever, but now that I know what he looks like, I get out when I see him.  Cholly and I were at another place, and they showed up there, too.  One comes in with a trumpet, like he's going to play in the band.  The other guy tells the bouncer he's parched from the heat on the street--he's been working so hard arresting people.  I can understand the one getting in because he had the instrument.  But why they keep falling for that line--anyway, as soon as we saw them, Cholly and I were out the back door."</div> <div>      By now, most of the place had been cleared out.  There were no more patrons left in the room.  Holding her head high, Texas Guinan held her hands out for her wrists to be cuffed.  She allowed herself to be led out.  She left her whistle on the piano top.  Izzy looked back at the kitchen and saw the three men watching.  "Go home!"  he ordered.</div> <div>      "Yes, sir, as soon as we clean up here!" Quentin answered, and they shut the door.  He and Jamison looked at each other.  </div> <div>      "Do you think they'll leave soon?"  Jamison asked.  "I'm really worried about Ruth."</div> <div>      The back door opened and closed again.  Another very elegantly dressed man came in.  He was hawk thin, with slicked back hair.  He looked at the three men coolly.  He addressed the gentleman.  "I'm glad you weren't inconvenienced, sir," he said, very politely.  "I have a cab waiting downstairs.  I would be glad to have the driver take you back to your hotel."</div> <div>      "Thank you, Mr. Fay," the gentleman answered gratefully.</div> <div>      "No trouble, sir.  I apologize for the inconvenience."</div> <div>      "Ahem, yes, well, it did prove to be quite a lively evening," the gentleman answered with a smile.  The man called Fay escorted the gentleman out the back door.</div> <div>      Jamison immediately turned to Quentin.  "I think that really was the Prince of Wales, wasn't it?"</div> <div>      "Um, well, he sure looked like it," Quentin answered.  They were about to check and see if the police had left when Mr. Fay returned.  They looked at him, unsure what to do.</div> <div>      Mr. Fay approached Quentin.  "You're friends with that spade horn player, aren't you?  I've heard you play with some of the fellas after everyone's gone.  You're a pretty decent piano player."</div> <div>      "Thank you," Quentin answered warily.</div> <div>      Fay held out his hand.  "Larry Fay."</div> <div>      "Frank Scott," Quentin said, shaking hands.  Fay looked at Jamison expectantly.</div> <div>      Jamison held his own hand out.  "Jamison Collins."</div> <div>      Fay's eyebrows shot up.  "From Maine?  Long way from home, aren't you?"</div> <div>      "Well, we're just here for some laughs, you know," Jamison answered.  </div> <div>      Fay looked pleased.  "So you came here, huh?"  He nodded his head.  "First time here?"</div> <div>      "I'm afraid so," Jamison answered.</div> <div>      "Well, again, I apologize for the inconvenience.  Why don't you gentlemen join me for a drink-if they haven't destroyed it all?"</div> <div>      "Well, thanks, but, uh, I need to find my wife," Jamison said.</div> <div>      They heard Ruth calling from outside.  "Jamison?"</div> <div>      "Let's go see if she's all right," Mr. Fay said.  They went from the kitchen into the once lovely clubroom.  It was a shambles.  Ruth and Ann stood in the middle of the room, alone, looking around in wide-eyed wonder.  Ruth ran to Jamison when she saw him, obviously very relieved.  "So is everyone safe and sound?"  Fay asked Quentin. Ann moved to his side.  </div> <div> "Apparently so.  So-do you think you have anything left to drink?"  Quentin asked rather boldly.</div> <div> Fay looked at him and laughed.  "Well, let's see what we have."  He went behind the bar, seeming to be searching behind the cash register.  To everyone's surprise, part of the wall behind the register slid back.  Fay reached in and pulled out a bottle, turning around and holding it up triumphantly.  He walked toward them and stopped to put one of the over-turned tables back on its feet.  Quentin watched him admiringly, and he and Jamison helped pick up enough of the chairs for them all to sit.  Quentin was burning with questions he wanted to ask Fay but knew he had to curb his curiosity and wait for the right time.</div> <div> "Mr. Fay, I'd like you to meet my wife, Ruth," Jamison said.  Fay took her hand and kissed it in the European style.  Ruth smiled, charmed.  "Ruth, this is Mr. Fay."</div> <div> "Please.  Call me Larry."</div> <div> "And this is Ann Dorsey," Quentin added.  He was impressed that Fay extended the same cordial courtesy to Ann.  They all sat down.</div> <div> "Well, folks, sorry about all this.  I have another excellent club called El Fay on East 45th Street.  This place will be closed for the time being, but you might try visiting there.  It's another fine establishment, and it's better protected," Fay said.  Quentin understood him to mean that the police were bribed not to go into that particular club.  "I'm going to need to go down to the station and rescue Tex," Fay continued.  "Before I go, I wanted to extend an invitation to you all to come to my home in Great Neck.  Every once in a while, I like to have parties, and I'd be happy if you and Mrs. Collins would be my guests."  Jamison and Ruth looked flattered and pleased.  Fay turned his attention to Quentin.  "Young fellow, I've heard you playing the piano here after hours.  And I know your pal plays the trumpet.  You think you could put a group together and come play at my house?"</div> <div> This was better than Quentin could've hoped for.  "Sure, I could.  Thanks," he said.</div> <div> "Your lady friend is welcome, too," Fay added finally.  There was something in his tone that made it plain that Ann really wasn't welcome.  Everyone picked up on it but no one said anything.  Ann's mouth tightened resentfully, but that was all.  After they'd finished their drinks, Fay excused himself to go to the police station.  Everyone got up and left with Fay so that he could lock up.</div> <div> On the street again, Quentin took one look at Ann's face and knew he'd struck out for the night.  Oh, well, he thought, I want to go and see if Dave is okay anyway and talk to him about moonlighting for Larry Fay.  "There's another place we could try-" Quentin began.</div> <div> "Not tonight, Frank.  Another time.  I think we've had enough excitement for one night," Jamison said.</div> <div> "Yes, we're not footloose and fancy free like you are," Ruth said teasingly.  "We're just an old married couple with children and we must be in early.  Otherwise, what would my brother think?" </div> <div> "As if Johnny and Ellen didn't do the same doggone thing," Jamison said, laughing.  "Still, I don't think I could handle any more excitement tonight, Frank.  Let's make it tomorrow, before Ruth and I go back to Collinsport.  By the way, I think Mr. Fay is a social climber, don't you?  Did you see how his eyes lit up when I said `Collins'?"</div> <div> "Maybe so," Quentin agreed.  "It'd be fun, though."</div> <div> "Yes, he seems to be a very interesting character," Ruth put in.  "I hope he invites us soon, darling.  I can't wait to see who turns up at his fete!"  When Quentin looked at her, startled, she laughed and said, "Why, Franky, don't you suppose a man like that would know the most INTERESTING people with the most INTERESTING connections?  I'm just curious, that's all!"</div> <div> Jamison exchanged an uncomfortable look with Quentin.  "Well, we'd better go for now," he said, taking Ruth's arm and steering her away.</div> <div> Quentin caught up with Dave again at the Fishers' apartment. He was a little worried about waking Ethelette or finding Mary Margaret here alone, and no Dave.  However, Dave opened the door. They talked quietly in the front room.  "Well, he asked for me so I guess he don't mind," Dave said.  "Okay, well, we got our group-you, me, George, Jack and Cholly.  Might want to throw in a couple other guys too and really impress the man."</div> <div> "I was thinking about asking him where he gets his booze from," Quentin said tentatively.</div> <div> "Boy, you don't give up, do you?  You get burned by police in Mississippi and by mob boys on the North Shore.  But you still want to do this?"</div> <div> "I have a feeling he's got his own operation," Quentin said.  "Maybe he can give me a little advice."</div> <div> "He'll probably tell you to leave it to the big boys.  You're just a kid in what you think is a playground."</div> <div> Quentin looked at Dave resentfully.  "So let him tell me that."</div> <div> Dave sighed.  "Look, Franky, here is a little different from New Orleans.  There's bigger, more important guys involved in this stuff up here, you understand?  You just want to be very, very careful.  You helped me out down south.  Let me help you here, okay?"</div> <div> "Yeah, okay," Quentin agreed sullenly.  He was still irritated at Dave's attitude.  What was wrong with running in a little booze from Canada for his friends?  He didn't think those "more important guys" would care about that.  He didn't say anything more about it.</div> <div> The next day, Quentin took the train to Glen Cove and was met by the station by Jamison and his family.  The little girl, Elizabeth, was dancing up and down with excitement--especially when she realized Quentin had brought her a present.  When he was introduced to her, Quentin got down so he could look Elizabeth in the eye and gravely shook her hand.  "Congratulations on becoming a big sister," he told her, handing over the doll, a dark haired, blue-eyed beauty like Elizabeth.</div> <div> Elizabeth flung her little arms around his neck.  "Oh, thank you cousin Frank!" she cried, excitedly.  He hugged her back.  Elizabeth had thick dark hair like Ruth, but her eyes were bright blue.  Edward's eyes were blue, and so were his own, but these eyes reminded him of the brilliant blue of another pair of eyes.  Someone else who had had thick dark hair.  Edith, he realized, looking into the child's face again.  She looked a lot like his sister, Edith.</div> <div> When he stood up again, Ruth moved forward to show him the baby.  "Would you like to hold him?" she asked.</div> <div> Quentin was eager to, but it felt awkward holding the tiny little bundle.  It was hard to tell who Roger looked like yet; he was only about twelve weeks old and was just beginning to look like a baby and not a dried tomato.  Roger was sound asleep and didn't even notice he was being passed to Quentin.  "Are his eyes blue, too?"  Quentin asked.</div> <div> "When you can see them," Ruth answered.  "All babies' eyes are blue at this age, Frank.  They may change later."</div> <div> Jamison led them to their car, a sleek Rolls.  "Ellen's making a fancy dinner for us."</div> <div> "This is nice of your family," Quentin said.</div> <div> "This is nothing, Franky, dear.  They look for any excuse to have a party," Ruth laughed.</div> <div> "Guess what, Cousin Frank," Elizabeth bubbled.  "I can climb the apple tree in the backyard.  I'll show you!"</div> <div> "Maybe I'll climb up with you," Quentin offered, handing the baby back to Ruth.  "Is he ever awake?"</div> <div> "All night," Ruth answered ruefully.</div> <div> "That's because he's too little to know what time it is," Elizabeth explained, with all the confidence of an expert on babies.  "And because he keeps his eyes shut most of the time.  When he opens his eyes, he'll see the sun is out and he'll know to stay awake.  He only sees the back of his eyelids, and he thinks it's dark and it's time to sleep."</div> <div> Quentin stifled a laugh, and Ruth said in all sincerity, "You are so smart, Elizabeth!  You'll make one good mommy when you grow up!"   Elizabeth drew herself up, straightening up her shoulders proudly.  Yes, Jamison was a lucky man.</div> <div> John and Ellen Healey and their four children were very friendly, loud people.  They weren't rich, compared to the Collinses, not by any means; however, they were very comfortably well off.  Their house had a huge wrap around porch for the grown-ups to sit on while the children tore around the yard playing tag.  Johnny had brought home some of the good scotch that Quentin and Jamison had recently supplied to him.  He was hoping the new venture would go off well, too.  Quentin listened to them talk for awhile and then got up and strolled around the porch to the backyard, feeling restless.</div> <div> Watching the children, he wondered how his own grandchild was. He knew he had a grandchild because of the information inadvertently passed on by his investment attorney in Collinsport, Fred Bishop--who, by coincidence, was married to his daughter Lenore. He'd never even seen the little girl; he'd never even seen what Lenore looked like over the years.  All he knew was the little bits and pieces Bishop had mentioned in his letters.  Even Jamison didn't know about Lenore.  Sighing, he watched Elizabeth pull herself up onto the lowest branch of an old crab apple tree.  It had several sturdy limbs to climb on, and the little girl moved upward steadily with ease.  She was pretty high into the tree now--at least 10 feet.  Was she going to stop?  He watched Elizabeth edging bravely out along a limb. He wondered if his grandchild looked like her; this one was really was going to be a heart breaker.  He saw her little foot slip, and she lost her balance.  Losing her grip on the branch above, she fell.</div> <div> Even as Quentin jumped off the porch and began running, he knew he'd never be in time.  Elizabeth seemed to float downward in slow motion; she was a good ten feet off the ground and fell with her arms outstretched, face downward.  Quentin had a vision in his head of a split skull, smashed face, broken nose….she landed with a sickening thump and lay still.  The other children screamed.  Quentin grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, looking at her.</div> <div> Miraculously, she seemed to be uninjured, just stunned.  She'd landed right on her face, too.  She'd also missed hitting several large stones by just a fraction of an inch.  They looked at each other; Elizabeth was as white as a sheet.  Quentin pulled her into a hug as she regained her voice and shrieked, "Mama!" into his ear.</div> <div> "Hey, are you okay?" he asked her soothingly, picking her up and carrying her toward the back porch.  He was aware of the other children crowding around him and chattering in all the excitement.  "I'll take you to your Mama."  Elizabeth had stopped shrieking but was still crying, frightened.</div> <div> Ruth and the other adults met them at the back steps.  "What happened?"  Ruth asked, her face as white as Elizabeth's.</div> <div> "Well, she was up in the tree, lost her balance, and fell," Quentin explained.</div> <div> Jamison tried to take her, but she clung tightly to Quentin and sobbed, "Mama!"</div> <div> "I think she's all right, just frightened," Quentin said to Jamison.</div> <div> "Bring her into the kitchen and we'll have a look," John Healey said.  So Quentin carried her inside to the kitchen table and sat down with her in his lap.  Only then would she let go of his neck and allow herself to be examined and fussed over.  When Ruth sat down across from Quentin, Elizabeth slid off his lap, ran to her and climbed into her lap for comfort.</div> <div> "She seems to be all right, you're right," Jamison said, relieved.</div> <div> Ruth soothed and patted Elizabeth, rocking her gently.  "That must've really scared you!"  Elizabeth nodded.</div> <div> "I don't think you ought to be climbing trees, honey," Jamison said in a mildly reproving voice.</div> <div> "Oh, come on, Jamison," Quentin said.  "Remember how you broke your arm?"</div> <div> "That's different," Jamison objected.  "After all, I was a boy.  Nora didn't climb trees."</div> <div> "Yes, she did.  You don't remember.  She fell out of a tree, too."</div> <div> "Ohhh, that's right," Jamison remembered.  "Father was so angry with me for letting her climb…"</div> <div> "Well, my brave girl went just a little bit too high, didn't she?" said Ruth.  Quentin was impressed.  He wondered if his own mother had been anything like that.  He couldn't remember her at all.  He had a pretty good idea what Grandmama or Edward or Judith would've said.</div> <div> Now that the excitement was over, the children ran back outside.  Elizabeth, feeling better, slipped off Ruth's lap and ran out the back door with her cousins.  The kitchen began to smell wonderful with the smell of the traditional Irish dinner that Ellen was preparing.  Roger began wailing from the other room.  Ruth laughed and got up.  "It's always something," she said, and went into the other room.  </div> <div> John went to the refrigerator for and retrieved three bottles of good beer while Ellen checked the dinner.  He and Jamison were talking about opening another tap room/restaurant in another town and which of the cousins might be prevailed upon to run it.  And would Jamison and Quentin be able to get all the liquor they needed?</div> <div> "Absolutely," said Quentin.  He got up with his beer and went to look for Ruth.  She was sitting in a rocking chair in the living room, murmuring to the baby.  "How did you get to be such a good mother?"  he asked her.</div> <div> She laughed.  "Frank, you don't 'get' to be a 'good' mother.  I guess either you are or you aren't.  I love children.  I guess that helps."</div> <div> "You love Jamison, too, very much, don't you?"  He sat down on a chair across from her.</div> <div> "With all my heart, and these are his children as well as mine, so of course, I love them as well," she replied, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.</div> <div> "Jamison is so lucky he found you, you know," Quentin began.  He heard a sucking sound, wondered what it was, and suddenly realized that Ruth was nursing Roger.  He went beet red.</div> <div> Ruth noticed.  "What's wrong, Frank?"</div> <div> "I--I--I didn't you were busy--" Quentin stuttered.  "I'll leave you alone."  He started to get up.</div> <div> "Don't be silly, sit and talk with me," Ruth answered.  "You haven't been around very many families, have you?"</div> <div> "None."</div> <div> "Don't be embarrassed.  You can't see anything, can you?  Just relax, please, Frank."  </div> <div> Quentin gulped.  He tried to think of something to say and couldn't.</div> <div> "So, Jamison tells me that you are related through his mother," Ruth said helpfully.  He did?  "His mother was your aunt?"</div> <div> "Umm, yes," Quentin agreed.  Actually, that was pretty good.  "You see, that's the problem between 'Uncle' Edward and me.  You know that my 'Aunt' Laura left him?"</div> <div> "Yes, Jamison finally let me in on that little secret."</div> <div> "Yes, well, he has hard feelings because she--"</div> <div> "But, Frank, I can help you reconcile with your uncle.  After all, there's no need for him to blame you.  You're not responsible for what your aunt did!"</div> <div> Uh-oh.  "Um, well, he doesn't approve of me, anyway," Quentin said, trying to think up a good story.  "I mean, he didn't care very much for the Murdochs anyway because of how my 'aunt' treated him.  But then, well, my parents needed money to send me to school, and he generously did give it to them.  I was supposed to go to a fine school with the money, but I--I sort of--well, squandered it."  Ruth was looking at him with compassion, and he was ashamed of himself for lying to her.  He couldn't meet her gaze anyway; not with Roger sucking away like that.  "So there was this big scene.  My father was mad at me, and 'Uncle' Edward was mad.  You might say I am the black sheep of the family."  At least that part was true.</div> <div> "What did you do with all that money?"</div> <div> "Um, well, I traveled a lot.  I drank some of it away, and I gambled some of it away," Quentin answered.  This was true.  He'd spent a lot of money travelling, drinking, and gambling.</div> <div> "Everyone makes mistakes when they're young," Ruth said, with understanding.</div> <div> "Gee, you'll make a swell mother.  You should've been mine."</div> <div> Ruth laughed.  "I hardly think so!  I suppose we're the same age.  I am 28.  How old are you?"</div> <div> He tried to remember how old he'd been when he stopped aging.  "Around 25."</div> <div> "Around?"</div> <div> "Um, my next birthday."</div> <div> "That must've happened years ago--five?" Ruth guessed.  "Have your parents forgiven you?"</div> <div> He wondered.  "Yes, I think so," he answered cautiously.</div> <div> "I really wish you'd let me work on Edward for you.  I'm sure I could bring him around," Ruth urged persuasively.</div> <div> "Here, here," Jamison agreed, entering the room.</div> <div> "We'll see.  Don't gang up on me, okay?"</div> <div> "Well, at least 'we'll see' is no longer an emphatic NO," Jamison said triumphantly, winking at Ruth.  "She is something, isn't she Frank?"</div> <div> "Yes," Quentin agreed softly.  "She sure is."  This time, Ruth blushed.  </div> <div> Elizabeth skipped in, hugged her father, and then tiptoed over to her mother and her baby brother.  She kissed Roger on top of his head and looked at Quentin.  "Mama says he eats like a horse!" she exclaimed, and her parents burst out laughing at the look on Quentin's face.</div> <div> Looking at Ruth and the children, he felt a pang of regret for what he'd lost.  After Jenny died, there were no second chances because of the curse.  Beth was dead, and Amanda…well, there'd be no children, anyway.  Although he'd missed his own daughter's growing years, maybe he could be part of those of his nephews' children.  That would almost make up for it…</div> <bR> <div> The first time they went to Great Neck, everyone in the little band was very impressed-except Quentin.  He'd lived at Collinwood and while this great house was nice, it wasn't nearly as large or imposing as Collinwood.  Still, the lawns were lovely and inviting, and the windows of the great house were huge and let in a lot of light.  Fay had an outdoor bandstand erected, and the band began to assemble their instruments and practice. It was the last weekend in October and very possibly the last warm weekend before the cold set in.  The trees, with their red, golden, and orange leaves were at their peak of beauty.</div> <div>  Quentin noticed Fay strolling around, checking and making sure everything was going well.  Everything about the man's attitude told him that Jamison had been right-Fay wanted to climb the social ladder and wanted to make a good impression.  He was impeccably and tastefully dressed.  He never seemed to be involved deeply in every conversation.  He always seemed to be watching everyone, possibly secretly pleased at who and how many people were there.  </div> <div> There were some men there that Quentin recognized from some of the places he frequented; he understood that they were in "the mob" but he hadn't been introduced to any of them.  He was aware that it had probably been the henchmen of some of these men that had taken the <I><U>Beth C.</U></I> from him and his partner.  He observed them surreptitiously from his place on the bandstand.  These men were very well dressed, like Fay, and none of them seemed to be carrying any weapons.  They didn't look particularly dangerous; they looked like regular businessmen.  They looked very much like Jamison.</div> <div> After awhile, the guests began to gather.  Jamison and Ruth came, and so did Johnny and Ellen.  Another Healey relative had been recruited to watch the children so that the parents could come to the party.  Other well respected businessmen arrived with their wives, as well as the mayor and city council members with their wives.  They mingled freely with the men in "the mob".Quentin watched Jamison and Ruth out of the corner of his eye.  Jamison was so lucky, he thought.  If Edward had had such a wife and Judith had had such a husband, maybe they wouldn't have turned into such sourpusses.  He was glad that his nephew had stubbornly refused to be like his father, even if it did cause contention between the two.</div> <div> The party had been underway for a couple of hours; the guests enjoyed themselves.  Fay seemed to spare no expense with food and drink.  The band took a break, and Quentin saw a familiar figure weaving toward him, drink in hand.  "Hullo, Evan!" the man called, leaning up against the piano.  He set the drink on top and smiled crookedly.  "Long time, no see.  Since when do you play in a band?"</div> <div> "Actually, this is the first time out," Quentin answered, smiling.  "How are you doing, Scott?  Still writing?"</div> <div> "Christ, yes, it earns me my bread and butter.  See that house across the way?  Look-through the trees."  Quentin looked at where Scott was pointing and nodding.  "That's where I live.  Zelda and Scottie and I.  That's thanks to the writing." Quentin was impressed.  He became aware that Dave was watching them, curiously.  He felt torn.  He wanted to introduce Dave, but he knew how Scott felt about black people.  He didn't want to embarrass Dave if Scott chose to snub him-which he might, depending on how much he'd had to drink.  Fortunately, Scott's attention was distracted and before he moved off, he said over his shoulder, "You must stop in and see us, Evan.  See you later."</div> <div> Dave waited until Scott was out of earshot and then asked, "Evan?  Your name is Evan, too?"</div> <div> "I told you I had a lot of names," Quentin explained.  Suddenly he laughed, remembering something.  "Dave, you remember telling me that `Frank Scott' wasn't the name of some rich white boy?"  Dave nodded.  "Well, I took the name after THAT rich white boy."</div> <div> "My, my.  Well, who is that guy?"</div> <div> "Him?  He's a writer, Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald.  He wrote a couple of books and he's making lots of money, I guess.  Look at that house of his.  He's the only man I ever met that drank more than me.  We were drinking pals before he married his wife, Zelda.  One time, we took a cab and he climbed up on top of the roof right there on Fifth Avenue.  And he was laughing like a lunatic.  If you think I take risks, you really haven't seen anything until you go around with him!"</div> <div> Larry Fay walked by.  He looked at Quentin, obviously impressed.  "You a friend of his?"</div> <div> "Yes, from way back," Quentin answered.</div> <div> "C'mere.  You're on a break now, right?  Let's take a walk."</div> <div> This was just the chance Quentin had been waiting for.  He glanced back at Dave and winked at him, then strolled across the lawn with Fay.  Fay stopped once to snag two drinks from a waiter and handed one to Quentin.  "How'd you meet him?"  Fay wanted to know.  Quentin explained, and they continued to make small talk.  </div> <div> Quentin finally worked up the courage to ask, "I was curious about something.  I wonder if I could ask you-"  He stopped.  Fay was looking at him with a cautious expression, but there was nothing in it to indicate that Quentin should stop.  Quentin took a deep breath and plunged in.  "I wondered if you supply the liquor for your places yourself."  Fay didn't answer.   A little unnerved, Quentin went in, "You see, I'd like to be able to get my own stuff, too, and I'm trying to figure out the best way to go about it.  Boats didn't work for me."</div> <div> Fay laughed shortly.  "No, they wouldn't, sonny.  Are you looking to get into the business?  You don't seem the type, kid."</div> <div> "No, no, it'd be just for me and my friends.  Maybe my family.  I want to be able to get good stuff, you know, `the real McCoy'?  I don't like bathtub gin, and I don't always want to pay $25 for a bottle of scotch."</div> <div> "Kid, you got balls, and I like that," Fay said admiringly.  "Either that, or you are incredibly stupid.  But I don't think you are."  He considered.  "Okay, listen, I'd like to help you out, do you a little favor.  I don't really get into that end of it anymore myself-other people do it for me, you follow?  But I'll tell you how I used to do it.  Started out with a taxicab and made a false bottom.  Drove it to Canada, loaded up, and came back across the border.  You see?  That's where most of the money came from, but now I'm going legit, see?  I run a taxicab company in the city, that's my legit business.  I could lend you a cab, but you take all the risks.  And if you ever get caught, you don't ever say where the cab came from, follow?"</div> <div> "Yes, sir," Quentin agreed.  He was thrilled.  He knew all about Fay's taxicabs.  The man hired the biggest, toughest drivers he could find.  Those drivers intimidated the competition and sometimes eliminated it.  Quentin didn't care about that.  He was thinking about the thrill of making a run up to Canada and coming back with some quality scotch.  He'd bet there were some little places on Long Island that would appreciate the liquor, places too small for Fay and his type to concern themselves with.</div> <div> "Meantime, you'd like to keep playing here, right?  All I ask is you remember me when you go for your stuff.  Bring me something for my parties-you know, as a tribute?  And I see you know some people and you've got some family connections.  Make sure I know who they are so I can invite them out here."  Quentin understood.  Fay really did want to climb the social ladder, without a doubt.  He couldn't wait to tell Dave and Jamison and make plans for their first run into Canada.  They went over the details about borrowing the cab, then Fay said:  "Break's over, sonny.  Better get back to the band.  I'll talk to you again, later."</div> <div> Quentin explained how the smuggling would work using the taxicab.  George and Jack decided that they'd had enough and begged off, but Cholly was still interested.  Dave said he'd help once in a while, otherwise he wanted to stay in the background as much as possible.  "I still think this isn't a good idea, Franky," he warned.</div> <div> Jamison would set up the business connections in Canada.  He wanted to go along on a couple of the trips, he explained, but thought it would be better to stay in the background making the arrangements most of the time.  "You guys are more the Douglas Fairbanks types than I am," he explained.  The thrill in this new operation, of course, was travelling back and forth across the U.S.-Canadian border, fooling the border police, outrunning the agents, and smooth talking any cop or agent who did manage to stop them.  No one discovered the false bottom in the taxi.</div> <div> In this way, they ran a small but lucrative business, continuing to supply friends and family with small businesses.  It would become more interesting--but not impossible--once winter came with its snows.  Quentin and Cholly looked forward to it as children would look forward to a toboggan ride.  There were also now visits to Collinwood to look forward to--whenever Edward was away.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id55.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Rumrunners Row"><U>3:  Rumrunners' Row</U></A>    <A HREF="id57.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Sys Deal"><U>5:  Sy's Deal</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U>Taking Wooden Nickels</U></A>    <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>